In thinking about the section of my homily for today in which I mentioned trusting God when you can't see past your present difficulties, a couple of things come to mind. First, I don't think God so much lifts me up out of the darkness as much as pulls me through it. This pulling culminates in miraculous popping me through the little pinprick of light I can see as I make my way.
Second, I was reminded of something from Eugene Peterson's remarkable Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology: "When nothing we can do makes any difference and we are left standing around empty-handed and clueless we are ready for God to create. When the conditions in which we live seem totally alien to life and salvation, we are reduced to waiting for God to do what only God can do, create." This is the beginning of hope.
Finally, there is a hymn in Volume III (Lenten Season/Easter Triduum/Easter Season) of the African edition of the Liturgy of the Hours I use that I keep circling back to for use in Evening Prayer. Actually, it is designated as a hymn for Night Prayer. For those who get really hung up on rubrics (I used to be one of you), there is a footnote stating "These hymns may be used also at Morning or Evening Prayer" (I even put it in red for you).
Having just finished Evening Prayer, thus bring the Lord's Day to a formal close, I want to share the words:
When from the darkness comes no light,I pray a good, fruitful week for each and every one of you. Believe it or not, this is a wrap for February 2021 or, perhaps more accurately, Second February 2020. As Red Green used to say, "Remember I'm pullin' for ya--we're all in this together."
When from the weeping comes no laughter,
When in the day we hope for night
Nor any comfort coming after:
Grant us your peace.
When in our confidence our fears
Clutch at the heart and make us tremble;
When in our joy we weep cold tears,
And in our frankness we dissemble:
Grant us your light.
When in our love there is not care,
And in our yearning we are dullness;
When what we know we cannot dare,
And are nothing that is fullness:
Grant us your truth