Writings of a Beholder 🌿 12.22.23

On The Day After Winter Solstice

At the end of 2022, I sat on my couch cloaked in the darkness of an early morning whispering prayers that sounded more like wrestlings and questions. I was nursing old, familiar wounds that I had lost hope of ever healing when I stumbled upon the words of Isaiah 9:2.

“The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned.” (NIV)

Now, on the day after Winter Solstice — the longest and darkest day of the year and also the start of the winter season — I hold in my hands and my heart the mysterious paradox that light cannot exist without the dark. The entirety of 2023 showed me this, as I clung to the hope of healing and discovered that darkness doesn’t just hold grief and pain, but also the promise of light.

I’m learning that not all darkness breeds evil. It can, and for me, I had left some soul wounds hidden away in the dark for too long where they grew and festered and became unbearably painful and infected.

But sometimes, darkness acts more like a womb where we’re invited to rest as hidden things grow slow and steady. Where things are reoriented and healed and made right again. It can be a secret, sacred place where we experience Immanuel — God With Us — in a very real and intimate way that might not be possible elsewhere. This kind of darkness invites us to obscurity and simplicity as we find ourselves stripped of all falsity.

This is the darkness I’ve become most familiar with this year, and this kind of darkness — this womb of hiddenness and healing — was only made possible once I brought my whole, wounded self into the Light.

One cannot exist without the other.

I think there’s a difference between hiding what we would rather no one else see and hiding within the shadows of the Almighty’s wings. The first kind of hiddenness grows shame and self-hatred while the other invites us to lay it all down in God’s presence and rest, trusting that what’s broken and hurting can and will be redeemed, somehow, some way.

What’s hard about the second kind of hiddenness is that we don’t always know how, when, or what God will use to bring it all full circle. And maybe that’s why darkness, hiddenness, and waiting require faith in something — Someone — greater than ourselves.

What’s harder still is living under the insidious weight of shame and self-loathing. I can say that because I’ve lived it. And the more hidden it remains the stronger it grows before it encompasses everything.

So here I am — here we all are — on the day after Winter Solstice, having lived through the darkest and longest day of the year. The sun rose, morning light broke out over a gray sky, and I’m thankful that darkness and light gently dance together, each inviting us to something different, but something good all the same.

This paradox is still a mystery to me, and perhaps it’s supposed to stay that way. Maybe darkness exists to provide rest and hiddenness while light makes room for what comes next, whatever and wherever that may be. Both refine, can be painful, and lead to freedom. Either way, I’ll take my time here, learning to hold and make space for both.

Grief and joy.

Darkness and light.

Pain and healing.

All of it wrapped up in Immanuel — Jesus — the very Hope Incarnate.

Wherever you are in the world, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and I pray that amidst the holiday madness, you find time to pause and notice where the light is leaking in and where darkness still needs to have its gentle, healing way with you.

With you on the journey,

Celia

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A Breath Prayer for Your Weekend

Inhale: You, Lord.

Exhale: Keep my lamp burning.

(adapted from Psalm 18:28)

*If you’d like to learn more about the practice of breath prayer, download this complete digital guide to practicing breath prayer.

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Resources & Good Things to Pick Up

My Etsy shop, The Beholding Co., offers contemplative resources to help you slow down, seek still moments, and behold God’s presence with you in the everyday. Purchase some breath prayer cards, a Lectio Divina bookmark, and more.

Grab a copy of my Bible study, You Are Beloved: a 21-day study on how to root your identity in the love of God, over on Amazon. If you’d like a free 3-day sample of the study, reply to this email and I’ll send it right over!

My friend and licensed spiritual director, Kari Bartkus, offers an 8-week journaling program for those who want to process their grief and trauma with God within the safety of blank journal pages. I’ve completed the program myself and can say confidently that it was incredibly impactful and healing: Journal Gently

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An Invitation to Pause & Reflect

A regular practice of reflection helps us recognize what’s going on beneath the surface of our souls so we can name it in the Lord’s presence. Because as we learn to name what we feel, what we need, and what we long for, we’re also learning to discern the Spirit’s sweet, gentle voice within our hearts and lives.

Take a few moments today or this weekend to journal or contemplate with the Holy Spirit the following question(s) or prompt(s):

What areas in your life are aching for Light?

What areas in your life need the hidden womb of darkness?