The Sea of Darkness

Imagine a man drowning in a deep, dark sea. He dimly perceives light
coming from above and dimly hears sound coming from above the surface
of the water. He floats upward, closer to the light, but then is carried back down by the currents that carry him deeper and farther from the light.

Again he rises higher and comes nearer the light, not understanding the
attraction but definitely drawn to the light.

Finally, he rises high enough to penetrate the surface of the dark water, the
barrier or dividing line between the darkness of his world and the light from
above.

The penetration is only for a brief moment before the currents once
again pull him back into the darkness and yet he carries within him a taste of the light. He wants more but the darkness is great in his mind.

It is as though a shepherd is calling to his sheep to come to him but the sheep are far away and not hearing.

Finally, he finds himself again near the surface and again rises just enough
to penetrate the barrier between himself and the light. Now he can see
more clearly and better hear the voice that speaks to him.

He struggles to keep his head above the surface even as the currents contend to drag him back into the depths of the darkness.

In desperation he flings up his hand, reaching for the light, hoping to find
something solid to grasp, to lay hold of, that he might pull himself higher. He cries out, “Help me! The current is strong, pulling me back into
darkness.”

Then he hears the words being spoken. The words begin to make sense. He
wants more and the words become a lifeline that he can hold onto and the light grows brighter. The voice tells him that he is in the darkness but not “of” the darkness and that he must cast off the things that are weighing him downward.

He wonders how it is, how it can be, that he sees the light and hears the
voice when he has only ever known darkness. And he realizes that he had
eyes to see the light and ears to hear the voice, eyes and ears that had
never been used but were now opened and receptive.

The voice tells him many things. It tells him that he must remain in the
water for a time but not be “of” the water.

Instead, he must learn to be of the light. To learn to be of the light, he must maintain the connection to the light. He must keep his head above the surface of the water so that his eyes can see and his ears can hear. And he must apply, as best he can, the words that he hears to his life in the water. In this way the voice will make him strong enough to resist the currents of the darkness that seek to pull him away from the light.

It’s a heart matter.