When You Can’t See the Stars

I’ve grown tired and my throbbing head rests wearily on shoulders knotted by the week’s concerns.  Night begins to fill the sky with its inky fingerprint and I notice there aren’t any stars.  Even the smallest shaft of light has been snuffed out by the encroaching darkness.  My heart drums a muffled song of sorrow.  Where are the lights that once sparkled brilliantly?  How has the promise of the day faded so quickly?  Will night’s oppression be forced to stop its silent, creeping, Joy-Thievery?

I turn to the Word as a sanctuary from the fear that always comes in the dark.  Except now?  Instead of trembling because of the monster beneath my bed, I tremble at the reality of the spiritual battle being waged for those I love.  Words of encouragement speak to me as if they were breathed into my ear.  Cast your burdens upon the Lord.  
But, these concerns are heavier than any I’ve ever carried.  My body aches to be rid of them…my soul cries out for relief…and I pray.  Yet, I clutch the worries tightly to myself like an animal whose burden has been pressed close by the cinching of a strap to which it is bound.
Cast your burdens…cast your burdens…cast your burdens.  The words echo in my head as I reach awkwardly toward the invisible worries.  I pull one out–crushed beneath the layers–and lift it toward heaven.  Then, I throw it to the Only One able to take the weight of the darkness.  It belongs to Him.
I still don’t see the stars, but I know they exist.  And one day, the Light will blot the Darkness from the sky.  The promise for every day will be fulfilled and there will be no more Joy-Thievery–only Joy-Giving.  And the invisible Worry?  The one that rested on God’s shoulders?  Worry will be made new and transformed for His glory.  Amen.
 
Scripture for Reflection (selected verses from Psalm 55 MSG)
1-3 Open your ears, God, to my prayer;
don’t pretend you don’t hear me knocking.
Come close and whisper your answer.
I really need you.