We always walk home on Wednesday nights after church. I guess it's an unintentional tradition. Goodness, we've even walked home in the rain. The mossy oaks and feathered palms take on a much different appearance in the darkness than they do in the light. At times they are beautiful. At times they are terrifying. I think it has much to do with the frame of mind of the viewer. As is true with most good art, the beholder will see a truth about himself reflected in the medium. Tonight I saw darkness. The smears of Spanish moss seemed to be tear-stains, but the light that shined behind the cobwebs of concern was oh-so bright. Even when the path ahead stretches out dark and foreboding, we know that there is a perfect light that casts out all fear and doubt! "...I walked through darkness by his light." Job 29:3.
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