discernment – Growing Up in the Lord

From Scared to Sacred

Angela — Thu, 05 Feb 2026 04:04:46 +0000

In the darkness, alone, terrified that my vision would never return, I prayed, desperately clinging to hope in the Great Physician. I asked for miracles, but I also bargained, “Show me what to let go of and where to focus.” Each time I opened my eyes and saw less, panic increased. I searched my memory for anything to fight against the anxiety and depression waiting to consume me, from song lyrics to Scripture. I prayed continuously. Some moments, panic took the driver’s seat, but I fought back through faith and prayer. I am still surrounded by an army of people praying with me. Fear cannot remain where gratitude and faith hold center stage.

Vampire Ways

In general, I prefer softer lighting. Some friends joke that my house is too dark and call me a vampire. The living room has dark green walls, wood floors, and the blinds usually stay closed since the windows face due east. When the door is open, it creates a blinding glare, even on cloudy days. In that darkness, humor surfaced as a way to cope. I joked, “I may need to rethink my vampire ways.”

As the light returns, I still find myself retreating to those vampire ways. I dim lamps. I seek quieter, darker spaces. Light often feels too bright, distorting colors and shapes, causing strain and fatigue. My eyes and brain tire more quickly in this stage of recovery. Healing does not always look like charging into the light. Sometimes healing looks like learning how much light the body can tolerate and when rest is required.

Those thoughts led me to consider why stories about vampires, light, and darkness have appeared across centuries and cultures. While the stories vary by era and author, many share common themes. Harsh light overwhelms what is unprepared for it. Survival requires awareness of limits and intentional movement. These stories reveal more about human vulnerability than about monsters, reflecting how people respond when light feels overwhelming or absent and when answers remain out of reach.

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Fear of the dark itself seems nearly universal. Darkness represents uncertainty. People fear what they cannot see, predict, or control. Doctor Who captures that fear clearly in the episode Silence in the Library. The Doctor observes, “Almost every species in the universe has an irrational fear of the dark. But they’re wrong.”

The fear isn’t irrational, because something unseen really is waiting in the darkness: the Vashta Nerada, microscopic creatures that live in shadows and devour anything in their path.

The characters fear the dark not because darkness itself is evil, but because something unseen waits within it. Panic increases as certainty disappears. Survival depends on light, awareness, and staying together.

The Light in Darkness

Scripture does not promise the absence of darkness. Scripture promises the presence of God through it. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me” (Psalm 23:4). God does not wait on the other side of fear. He walks before, beside, and behind us. He surrounds us with His presence and care. Darkness does not limit His ability to guide, protect, or restore. His sight remains unlimited.

This season continues to teach discernment. Retreat is not rejection, boundaries are not failure, and rest does not signal resistance to healing. Healing includes learning when to step back, when to dim the lights, and when to allow the body and mind to catch up to the progress already underway.

For now, I retreat to the comfort of my cave, listen to my body’s need for healing, and rest in God’s peace. I trust a Big God who sees clearly, even when I do not. “The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1) I pray that these limitations remain temporary, but that the lessons endure long after my sight fully returns.

An Awkward Fit

Angela — Wed, 31 Dec 2025 19:14:45 +0000

Some nights, getting comfortable takes longer than others. Many nights when I lie down to go to sleep, my arms get in the way. They feel cold when the rest of me is warm. They seem to be in the way and out of place. I shift and adjust, yet my arms become obstacles to rest. This problem seems a little silly, but one night I realized how this discomfort resembles life in the body of Christ. Scripture tells us we are one body with many parts. Each part is necessary, with a designated purpose. Every member has been placed with intention, yet many believers quietly live with a sense of awkwardness, like they never quite fit. No matter how they shift, they cannot find their place. What if that awkwardness exists because we are striving to fit into a place that was never shaped for us? Our discomfort is not always a sign of rebellion or reluctance. It may be a sign of misalignment. The apostle Paul describes the church as a collection of parts, a living body shaped by intentional diversity. The placement of each part matters for purpose and function. “For just as the body is one and has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also is Christ…. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact, God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, according to His will.” 1 Corinthians 12:12, 17–18 God Himself arranged the body this way. Each part matters, but each part also has limits. These limits are not weaknesses. Just as an ear cannot see or a foot cannot hear, we each have a purpose that fits our God-given abilities. Effort alone does not change design. Good intentions can blur an important distinction. Willingness does not mean every role belongs to us. My grandfather once said that God’s church is perfect, even though its people are not. The more I learn and grow, the more I see the wisdom in that statement. We bring our fears, insecurities, blind spots, and unmet longings with us into every relationship and situation, even into the body of Christ. We desire to matter, to be seen, and to fit. None of this surprises God, but it does shape how we relate to one another. The problem isn’t always the body. It may be where we’re trying to fit. Saying no can feel unfaithful, especially when we are asked to fill a specific need. Yet Scripture teaches us to serve with wisdom. Faithfulness does not mean personally responding to every need in the congregation. Even during His earthly ministry, Jesus did not respond to every demand. He withdrew to pray and sometimes left crowds behind, following the Father’s direction rather than every expectation around Him. If Jesus did not allow every demand to determine His direction, we cannot expect to do so either. Saying no is not necessarily a refusal to serve. It can be a decision to serve where we are actually equipped. Healthy bodies do not require every part to be loud or visible. They require honesty, discernment, and faithfulness. The goal is not for each member to prove their value, but to live faithfully within the Designer’s purpose. Maybe the goal isn’t to make ourselves fit wherever there is an empty space. Maybe it is to discover where God has equipped us to serve. The most faithful thing we can do may be to stop trying to be a part we were never meant to be.

When You Can’t See the Road Ahead

Angela — Fri, 20 Mar 2015 19:22:00 +0000

Driving down an unfamiliar highway in the fog, with only my GPS to guide me to my destination, I saw a clear metaphor for life. With such poor visibility on a road I didn’t know, I relied on the navigational system to safely get me where I needed to be. Then the fog gave way to heavy rain. At one point in the deepest fog, I saw what appeared to be billowing smoke, but as I drew closer, I realized I was seeing trees through the fog.

In life, we also have a reliable navigational system if we choose to follow it: God’s Word. His directions are infallible, although they may not always lead where we expected to go.

Life is full of unfamiliar paths. Sometimes those paths greet us with less-than-ideal conditions: roadblocks, bad weather, poor visibility, or construction. Detours along the way may sidetrack us, but they don’t have to change our ultimate destination.

Things are not always what they seem. Sometimes what seems good may really be not so good. Other times, what frightens us from a distance looks entirely different when we draw close enough to see clearly. Sometimes smoke means there is a fire on the side of the road, and sometimes it turns out to be a tree looming in the fog.

Discernment requires careful observation and attention to detail.

Sometimes, the best course of action is simply to keep going. When we don’t know the road or the lay of the land, we can trust the Guide even when we cannot see very far ahead.

Truth be told, I don’t blindly rely on my GPS. I look at the map beforehand. I know I can call people who know the road I’m traveling if I have any problems.

Most importantly, I pray. A lot.

Through the many miles, and even the short ones, I give that time to the God who knows the hairs on my head (Matthew 10:30) and knit me together in my mother’s womb (Psalm 139:13). He knew my days before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:16).

He is more reliable than any man-made navigational system.