Walking in Darkness

Walk location: the neighborhood
Walk time: early morning
Skies: unseen
Temperature: 58 degrees
Steps: 3,700
iPod: Speaking of Faith, "The Origins and Impact of Pentecostalism"

As a Christian, and as a pastor, I have read for years about "walking in darkness," the spiritual equivalent of trying to find one's way in a darkened, windowless room. This morning I walked in darkness, but physically. As my faithful walking companion Gizmo and I slipped into this morning's darkness, I had little hope of being out long enough to capture any photos. This time of year there is simply too much early morning dark, and the iPhone doesn't do much for pics in the dark.

Instead of being watchful for a good photo opportunity, I decided to hunker into my Podcast and consider my physical surroundings in a spiritual way. I'll have to admit, there are some apparent positives to walking in the darkness. There is the shield of anonymity. As I passed the occasional pedestrian on the sidewalk, I could not see their facial features, nor could they se mine, although we were aware of one another's presence and exchanged cursory greetings. They could not seen my unshaven face, my unwashed hair or the bag in my hand containing my pet's "litter." Walking in the darkness provides one the ability to hide.

Darkness has a certain lulling enticement, as well. The shadowed homes, the distant glow of a street light, the dewy grass, the chirp of early morning insects and birds lure one to complacency. In such a veiled existence, who needs to consider change of any type? Who will know? Who will care?

As alluring as darkness is, there are some pitfalls, too. Walking in the darkness requires a sense of misplaced trust that one's feet are on a path of some type, and it doesn't really matter which one. Because there is not enough light to discern better from worse or safe from treacherous, the walker keeps putting his foot forward uncertain of what is ahead. Because of dark's beckoning call to passivity it is a surprise, sometimes a shocking one, when sometimes interrupts that revelry.

As I walked this morning in darkness, one foot rapidly moving ahead of the other, I came upon an especially shadowed sidewalk where I did not see the objects beneath my feet. Even now I do not know what they were because it was just that dark. They were, however, big enough to cause me a slight stumble in my movement. My feet slipped, just a bit, and though I did not fall I felt the impression of something bigger than acorn and smaller than a stone beneath my shoes. It was unnerving, but not enough to keep from further walking in the dark.

One of most annoying parts of walking in darkness is having to confront bright lights. Some bright lights are sudden and immediate, like the homeowner arising and flicking a switch which then bathes the walkway in a sudden burst of power. As the darkness is instantaneously dispelled there is shock to the physical system as eyes, accustomed to the shadow, experience the impact of precision. Some bright lights, though, can be anticipated because they are far enough in the distance to recognize and prepare for. Walking the sidewalk with early morning traffic allows one to see the distant luminescent glow of headlights, and by the time the car passes you can either look away to avoid the glare or have prepared well enough not to be so surprisingly impacted.

Which is better ... walking in darkness or walking in light?

It depends, I guess, on what you want to see and whether you want to be taken aback or prepared for what is to come.