nighttime

“Don’t worry, Mr. Phillips. You’ll be asleep through the whole process.”

I think she meant it to be reassuring. No, I’m sure she did.

I’m not all that reassured.

I like being awake. I’ve spent most of my life being awake. I remember things that have happened when I’m awake better than otherwise.

I don’t sleep much—a habit the man who’s doing the procedure in a day or two says I need to break. Come to think of it, that may be what he’s trying to help me with by having me sleep while he works. He’s going to give me a jump-start on breaking the habit of not sleeping.

It’s a habit I’ve cultivated over a lifetime, one I don’t wish to have meddled with.

A few years ago, my young son-in-law sat at the dinner table one day and voiced his complaint. The month-old baby in my daughter’s arms was the object of the young father’s concern.

“He just won’t go to sleep. It’s like he’s afraid he’ll miss something while he’s out.”

All of us gathered at the table chuckled sympathetically, but the words rattled around in my head and hit a little closer to home than he intended.

I don’t want to miss anything!

I don’t.

Oh—in a day or two, I’ll lie down and let them put the IV into my arm and I’ll sleep. I really don’t think I need to be awake while that nice man runs a probe through my arteries. I actually believe that may be one of the few things I’d like to miss.

But the rest of it? The conversations, the mealtimes, the concerts, the bike rides, the hugs, the tears, the singing, the soccer games, the shopping trips, the weddings, the funerals, and all the other events that make up a lifetime?

Those I don’t want to sleep through.

It’s time to be awake.

I remember sitting in the pew as a boy and singing at the top of my lungs (I always did) as the song leader swung his arm in that familiar 4 beat pattern.

Work, for the night is coming,
When man’s work is o’er.

It’s a great hymn, reminding us that we need to be up and doing while we have time. The figurative night is the end of our life.

But, I have a problem.

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me it’s pretty dark in the world now. The shades of night are all about us.

Is it time to sleep yet?

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In what we once called the Dark Ages, people gathered together in walled cities for protection against each other, closing the gates to any who were outside. Inside lay safety.

Religious factions disparaged each other from the safety of their fortresses. Petty kings and rulers did the same from theirs.

Outside, chaos ruled. Fear was the law of the land. Those with power took whatever they wanted. The common man survived, but only just.

Somehow today, it seems dark to me again. Nighttime, one might say.

Still, it’s not time for sleep yet. Now is the time to be up and doing.

In the dark.

We’re not home yet.

It’s time to shake off the sleep. Time to drink another cup of coffee or splash cold water on the face.

Whatever it takes.

Perhaps, Mr. Frost said it better than I can. If it comes to that, I’m sure he did.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. *

I’m still awake.

I want to keep my promises.

You?

This is all the more urgent, for you know how late it is; time is running out. Wake up, for our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is almost gone; the day of salvation will soon be here. So remove your dark deeds like dirty clothes, and put on the shining armor of right living.
(Romans 13:11-12 ~ NLT)

*(from Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening ~ Robert Frost)

A giant in the world of rock music died yesterday.

The tributes to David Bowie have filled the pages of social media. Videos have been shared, stories told, organ solos have even been performed in cathedrals. And now, the questions are being raised.

Is David Bowie in heaven? Did he become a believer in the waning days of his life?

I’m not going to talk about him. Not exactly, anyway.

You will find the discussion of his final destination in the days to come upon the sensational pages of other blogs. Anger and name-calling will follow—both by believers and non-believers alike. I choose not to participate.

Still, in the quiet of this night, I consider the possibilities. For him—and for all of us.

I wonder—what about these quiet hours, the lonely time between times, when no one else is stirring? They are some of the most soul-searching intervals I have experienced. Surely, there’s a chance?

I’m aware that I’m a man of strange habits—late-night writing sessions, followed by wandering through the house speaking to shadows and arguing with the walls. Not everyone spends their nights in the same fashion.

But, many who are creatures of habit, making their way to bed at regular hours and planning for early morning arising, sometimes find themselves at the mercy of the night.

For some, when life is proceeding smoothly and all is well in their world, the nights are blissful oblivion. No questions are whispered into the dark; no prayers are addressed to the ceiling (and beyond).

But life is not all smooth lanes and well-oiled machinery.

Trouble will come. Sleep will flee. Rest will escape.

Pleas will be delivered to Heaven and promises made. Tears will be shed.

I don’t suppose it’s true for all, but I suspect it happens to more than will admit it.

And finally, in the receding years of my life, I have discovered a truth I never imagined.

Those times in the quiet hours are precious. They are life-changing. They are priceless.

When all is as we imagine it should be, we have no time for God. We have no need for God. Rich in things, we fill the days with noise and commotion, and exhausted, fall into our beds, never giving a thought to the poverty of our souls.

Yet, in our darkest night, He will be found. It seems it’s always, finally, in our darkness that we seek His light.

He’s there waiting, too. (Psalm 139:11-12)

When the one who slept beside you in your bed all those years never will again and you cry for them in the night, He will be found.

When disease tears at the body of your child and you scream silently into the dark, He hears.

When the emptiness of life on your own drives you, at last, to give it all to Him, He’s waiting.

He’s always been waiting. (Revelation 3:20)

Did David Bowie find Him in the darkness of his night? Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

I don’t know.

But you can.

I have.

Again and again.

You, Lord, keep my lamp burning;
my God turns my darkness into light.
(Psalm 18:28 ~ NIV)

But something tells me that you hide
When all the world is warm and tired
You cry a little in the dark, well so do I.
(from Letter to Hermione ~ David Bowie ~ English singer/actor ~ 1947-2016)

He's Taken Leave

Random wanderings with Paul Phillips

Before I Sleep

In Quiet Places