I’ve been lying on the rug near the porch door a lot lately… watching the world go by.
The nights feel longer than they used to.
The shadows stretch out earlier, and the dark seems thicker somehow.
Even an old dog like me can tell—this present darkness isn’t just about the sun going down.
It’s about hearts growing dim…
Voices growing harsh…
Hope getting harder to spot.
John says it plain and simple, and I like that:
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” - John 1:5
Now that’s a verse an old dog can lean on.
Darkness makes a lot of noise.
It growls
It snaps
It struts around like it owns the place.
It tells us the light is weak,
… that truth is outdated,
… that kindness is naïve.
But John doesn’t say the light fights the darkness or even argues with it.
He says it shines.
And the darkness—no matter how loud—cannot overcome it.
I’ve noticed something about light.
It doesn’t panic.
It just shows up and does what it does best.
Still, we’ve got a part to play.
God told His people long ago:
“If my people, who are called by my name, humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land.” - 2 Chronicles 7:14
That’s not a word for them out there.
That’s a word for us right here.
When darkness presses in, our first instinct is to bark at it—
Post about it
Argue with it
Blame somebody else for it.
But the Lord says the healing doesn’t start in the streets or the courts or the headlines.
It starts on the porch…
On our knees…
In hearts willing to humble themselves.
An old lazy dog knows this much:
The porch light only helps if it’s turned on.
And repentance is the switch.
So maybe in this present darkness, the call isn’t to curse the night, but to tend the light we’ve been given.
To pray instead of posture.
To seek His face before we point fingers.
To not just talk about... but to turn away from the things that dim our witness.
The darkness is real.
I won’t pretend it isn’t.
But it’s not in charge.
The Light has already come.
And it’s still shining.
I think I’ll stay right here on the rug a little longer tonight
Eyes open
Waiting on the Master.
I know His footsteps.
And I know this—when He shows up, the dark never stands a chance.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
