Even the dark is light to him
Even the dark is light
The journey inward is not all radiance. There are dark stretches — rooms where God seems hidden, seasons of confusion and shadow when the soul cannot feel its way and fears it has lost the path. Teresa knew these darknesses well and did not pretend they away. But she anchored the soul in a truth that holds when all the lights go out.
The psalmist names it: even the darkness is not dark to you; the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are alike to you. Our darkness is not darkness to God. What feels to us like impenetrable shadow is, to him, as bright as noon. He sees perfectly, works freely, and remains fully present in the very places where we can see nothing at all.
This changes how we endure the dark rooms. The darkness we feel is real to us but not to God, and he is no less near, no less at work, for our inability to perceive him. Light dawns in the darkness for the upright, says the psalm. So when the journey leads through shadow, do not assume God has gone. He is as present in your darkness as in your brightest day — and to him, your night already shines.
“Even the darkness doesn't hide from you, but the night shines as the day. The darkness is like light to you.”
— David — Psalm 139:12 (WEB)
Trust that even your darkest stretches are light to God — that he sees, works, and abides in the shadow as freely as in the day — so you do not despair when the journey leads through the dark.
“Light dawns in the darkness for the upright, gracious, merciful, and righteous.”
When the path drops into shadow — confusion, the sense that God has gone quiet, a stretch we cannot find our footing in — we read the blackout as a verdict that he has slipped away or that we have wandered off course. The interior work is to anchor in what the psalmist saw, that to him the night shines as the day, and to hold the steady distinction between feeling abandoned and being abandoned — staying put in the dark room rather than bolting from it, because the One our eyes cannot find has not gone anywhere.
This week, if you are in a dark stretch, preach the psalm to yourself: even this darkness is light to God, and he has not moved. Keep showing up to him in the shadow, trusting his presence and work where you cannot perceive them.
The enemy reads the dark stretch to you as desertion, hoping you will conclude God is gone and quit before the light returns. But a soul that keeps walking toward him when it cannot see proves the very thing the darkness denied — that even the night he meant for despair shines as day to God.
When the spiritual journey leads through darkness — confusion, the felt absence of God, shadow we cannot see through — we instinctively conclude that God has withdrawn or that we have lost our way. The darkness feels like proof of his absence. The psalmist insists it is nothing of the kind: our darkness is simply not dark to God, who sees and works and abides in it as freely as in full light.
This is a lifeline for the dark rooms. The God who is present in your brightest moments is exactly as present in your blackest ones; your inability to perceive him is not his absence. He is at work in the shadow you cannot see through, and light will dawn in due time. So when you find yourself in the dark, hold this and do not despair: even now, the night that blinds you shines as day to him, and he has not moved.
- Do I read the dark stretches as proof that God has withdrawn?
- Can I trust that my darkness is not dark to him?
- How would I endure the shadow differently if I knew he was fully present in it?
Lord, when the journey leads through darkness I assume you have gone. But even the darkness is not dark to you; the night shines as the day. Help me trust your presence in the shadow I cannot see through, and wait for the light you will surely dawn. Amen.