Heidi Viars

Recently, my thoughts and I moved to the basement. For months, we had crept across the dinging room table, unintentionally and slowly swallowing up more and more space with papers and books. I reluctantly agreed with my husband. He thought it might be good to make room so the family could sit and eat, not having to worry about spilling pasta sauce on my bright ideas. At first, I was cranky about moving, uneasy about the change. I felt a bit unappreciated in my need for wide open spaces and light for inspiration. But, since I have not yet found a way to monetize my creativity and build me a writing shack, I complied for the sake of the family.

But then something happened.

Here in the basement, where I can only see a small piece of sky peeking through layers of blue spruces and bare oaks, I find myself overwhelmed by God.

Here, where I have to look up to see the ground, and down to see the sky reflecting on my glass-top desk, I realize how contrary God’s works are to mine. I often think “more” of something is the solution. God happens to think that “less” makes us see better.

I think it might have been the best idea in a long time for my thoughts and I to move into the darkness. I have come to appreciate even hints of light here. Ideas have flooded my mind of how to create more light and how to make even the smallest flicker seen.

How great of an opportunity we have today, at a time where the light of many churches has gone out for a time, to be the light from a seemingly dark place. Light cannot be intimidated by darkness, but instead becomes more and more visible. Even the smallest, even the weakest glimmer, will be seen. 

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:4-5
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In the same way, let your light shine before others,
so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.
Matthew 5:16
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(Heidi Viars, 2020)