What Hurts Can Help

“I have learned things in the dark I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so there is only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light…

     Most of the books on the New York Times “How To” bestseller list are about how to avoid various kinds of darkness. If you want to learn how to be happy and stay that way, how to win out over your adversaries at work, or how to avoid aging by eating the right foods, there is a book for you. If you are not a reader, you can always find someone on the radio, the television, or the web who will tell you about the latest strategy for staying out of your dark places…”

     When she refers to darkness, author Barbara Brown Taylor isn’t writing about the absence of physical light, the kind of darkness that descends upon the earth when the sun goes down or when we turn out the lights as we leave a room. Rather, Taylor is referring to those heavy, confusing, heartbreaking feelings that we all experience from time to time resulting from the likes of illness, loss, failure, and fear. Who wouldn’t want a fix when feeling lost and alone in the dark? Taylor’s conclusion that she needs darkness as much as light is a radical affirmation of the truth that what hurts can help.  

     It is nothing less than courageous to be patient and open to being schooled by darkness. Conventional wisdom tells us to run the other way, to find immediate answers to our questions, solace in our grief, and clarity in our confusion. As natural and healthy as this is, because wandering in the dark can be a place of intimate encounter with the divine, it may be important not to run too soon, or too fast, or too far.

     When we are “in the dark” we realize that we aren’t in control, that we don’t know which way to turn, and that we need to rely on something other than our own devices in order to find our way. At such times, along with seeking the help of others, it may be good counsel to settle into rather than try to escape the darkness. What Taylor learned by doing this is that there is a benevolence that holds and enfolds us all, a peace-filled, consoling Presence that can make the darkness a little less scary.