SAFE IN THE DARK [M, 1-13-25]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Musings of an Old Man—SAFE IN THE DARK [M, 1-13-25]

 

Now that the light is lingering a bit longer each day, I’m not sure that’s a good thing. As a child, when it was dark, I was not as afraid. Oh, yes, I knew there could be dangers hidden in the dark, but I was hidden in the dark, too. In the light, it was easier to see the dangers, but they could see me, too. I was safer in the dark. There were dangers in the darkness, but the darkness itself was a friend

So I roamed the dark, winter streets of Indianapolis, when I was 8 and 9, extending trips to Cub Scout den meetings or to a grocery, staying on familiar streets, but going where no one knew me as the scared little kid. It gave me control in a world that seemed out of control. Later, as an older child and as a teen, I walked back and forth to Oakland City from our farm, in ditches beside the highway, on narrow dirt roads, afraid but confident. I could see the lights of town in the distance, but I was safe in the dark.

In the light of town, I could say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. In the darkness, I might not be safe from the monsters that hide in the dark, but I was safe from my own discomfort and inadequacies.

I have gone to several psychological therapists over the years. Usually because I was unsure of my call to ministry. I wanted someone to tell me it was okay to quit ministry so that I could actually make some money. I think the counselors saw through that, though. I had no skills for anything but preaching, so they weren’t willing to agree to the illusion that I could do something else.

When I had cancer, Vernie Barnett, the head of our pension and health system, said that there was provision in our health insurance to get counseling, so…why not?

I had a friend who was a therapist, and I enjoyed talking to her, so I went. She didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. “You are so good at using words to avoid… I’m exhausted by the time I’ve spent an hour with you.” I took that as a compliment, because I had managed to stay in the dark. I don’t think she meant it that way.

It was kind of like the time we heard one of our young daughters say to the other, “I was so bad Mommy had to get out the child psychology book.” Something to be proud of.

The point of therapy is to get you to come into the light. Looking back, I realize my modus with counselors was to try to make them think I was spilling my guts while telling them nothing. I felt safe in the dark.

At the same time, I would tell a group of total strangers about anything and everything in my life. Even in high school, but later, I’d be at some professional conference, and we’d be divided into small groups, and I’d start by telling about all my fears and hopes. People would be astounded at my openness, but it caused them to open up, too. Soon, they’d forget about me, so eager were they to tell their own stories.

In the early days in those settings, I didn’t know why I was so open. It wasn’t a plan to create a better group experience, even though it worked that way. Being open seemed the opposite of what a person who was safest in the darkness should do. Then I realized that I had created so much light that I was in the dark…and safe.

I concluded that the point of counseling was not to get people to face reality but to help people feel safe, be it in the light or in the dark. It took me too long to stop trying to solve people’s problems for them, but eventually I felt comfortable if the other person wanted to come into the light, but I also felt comfortable just sitting in the dark with them.

If I were to give you counsel, I would say: when things get to be too much, just go to where you feel safe. Not the false safety of addictions and anger, but the real safety of your own darkness.

You don’t necessarily need to “know yourself.” That might be disappointing, anyway. You do need to know where you feel safe.

John Robert McFarland

“The safest place to be is in the center of God’s will.” Corrie ten Boom