Darkness is a liar;
it tells you the room has changed.
But the switch is where it’s always been—
pinned between your faith
and your memory.
You are not lost.
You are just fumbling
until your hand remembers
exactly where the Light resides.
Darkness is a liar;
it tells you the room has changed.
But the switch is where it’s always been—
pinned between your faith
and your memory.
You are not lost.
You are just fumbling
until your hand remembers
exactly where the Light resides.
Lord, keep me different,
‘cause I already tried normal
and honestly…
It was exhausting.
Keep me laughing at the wrong times
(not too wrong, I still want friends),
tripping over my own feet
but calling it choreography.
When everyone zigzags,
keep me confidently zigging,
even if I forget why I started zigging
halfway through.
Keep my weird thoughts weird,
my jokes slightly delayed,
and my personality
a little hard to explain.
If I mess up—
which I will, repeatedly—
keep me humble enough to laugh
and wise enough not to tweet about it.
Lord, keep me different,
not chaotic enough to cause concern,
just unique enough
that people say,
“Yeah… that’s very you.”
And if being myself
makes life awkward sometimes,
keep me remembering
awkward is way better
than boring.
Amen…
and also sorry in advance.
Lord—
keep me different.
Because every time I try to blend in,
I stick out harder.
Like a highlighter
in a black-and-white textbook.
Keep me weird but approachable.
Not “lock the doors” weird—
more like
“oh… you’re like that” weird.
When everyone follows the trend,
keep me five steps behind,
asking questions like,
“Wait—why are we doing this again?”
Keep me confident enough
to laugh at myself
before anyone else can.
Save me from taking life too seriously—
I already do that by accident.
If I trip in public
(and I will),
keep me bowing like it was planned.
Standing ovation in my head.
Lord, keep my jokes landing…
eventually.
Even if they arrive late
and need explaining.
Keep me different,
not because I’m better,
but because pretending
is way too much work.
Let my life be proof
that awkward can still be joyful,
that strange can still be kind,
and that being myself
is not a flaw—
it’s the punchline and the point.Amen.
And thank You
for not making me normal.
What activities do you lose yourself in?
Listening to old school R&B, playing game apps and watching farming videos on YouTube.
The Muscle Memory of Light
In the middle of a dark room, even one we have lived in for years, there is a momentary panic that sets in when the lights go out. For a second, the familiar becomes alien. We reach out, hands grazing cold air, fumbling along the walls for the switch or the base of a lamp. In that moment, the darkness feels absolute, as if it has always been there and will never leave.
But this feeling is a deception.
The truth is that the darkness hasn’t changed the layout of the room. The chair is still where it was; the door remains in its frame; the lamp is exactly where you left it. The “fumbling” we do isn’t a sign that we are lost; it is the process of our internal map catching up to our external reality. Those who know their homes intimately eventually find the switch because they don’t need their eyes to tell them where the light is—they have the muscle memory of having been there before.
The Source in the Shadows
This serves as a profound analogy for the spiritual journey. When life’s circumstances dim the lights—be it through grief, uncertainty, or exhaustion—it is easy to believe the darkness has won. Yet, for those who have cultivated an intimate relationship with God, the darkness is merely a temporary veil.
• Intimacy as a Map: Knowing the Source of light means that when the world goes dark, you aren’t a stranger in a foreign land. You are in a “home” you recognize.
• The Fumble is Part of the Process: We shouldn’t be discouraged by the moments we spend reaching into the void. Fumbling for the switch is a testament to our belief that the switch exists. It is an act of faith to keep reaching when you cannot see.
• The Inevitable Return: Just as the sun does not negotiate with the night, light does not ask permission to exist. It simply arrives.
Finding the Switch
The “dark days” are inevitable, but they are not the destination. They are simply the tunnels we pass through. By leaning into the intimacy of a relationship with the Creator, we find that our hands are guided. We find that the Source of light isn’t something we have to create ourselves—it is something we simply have to reconnect with.
Even in the thickest gloom, the switch is right where it has always been. You know this room. You know the Way. And soon, the light will reign again.
A Prayer for the Fumbling Heart
“Heavenly Father, Source of all Light, I come to You in the midst of the shadows, acknowledging that while the darkness feels heavy, it is not sovereign. When my eyes cannot see the path and my hands are fumbling for the switch, remind my heart of the ‘layout of the room.’ Remind me of the many times You have met me in the dark before.
Strengthen my spiritual muscle memory so that I may navigate by faith and not by sight. Grant me the peace that comes from knowing my Home—and knowing that You are the Lamp that never flickers. Even when I am reaching in the void, I thank You that Your hand is already reaching for mine. I trust that the light is coming, and that the morning is inevitable. Amen.”
Affirmations for the Dark Days
• The darkness is a season, not a destination. I am passing through this room; I am not a permanent resident of the shadows.
• My intimacy with the Source is my map. I do not need to see the whole staircase to take the next step in faith.
• Fumbling is an act of seeking. My search for the light is proof that I know the light exists and is within my reach.
• The light does not need permission to return. Just as the sun rises without fail, the peace of God will break through this current gloom.
• I am safe in the ‘Home’ of my faith. Even when I cannot see the walls, I know the Foundation beneath my feet is secure and unshakable.