A Smog-Filled City and a Murky Pond

This is (finally) the first guest post from my insightful wife, Dee. Hopefully lots more to come! – Dónal

I sit on a swing in the park, as I do every morning, gently rocking back and forth. I look out through the grey haze and through the tree branches, towards the murky green lake in the centre of the park.

The water is greyish-green, so discoloured that there is no reflection of the trees above. Whitish scum covers parts of the surface. Pieces of rubbish and debris float along gently. “Nothing could live in there,” I think to myself.

But I am wrong. Somehow it does. Looking more closely at the pond’s surface, small bubbles appear as the fish that swim in that dark place come up to nibble on a passing insect. As they do, the ripples on the water’s surface spread outwards for all to see.

My gaze shifts towards the sky. In the wintertime, smog perpetually chokes the city. In the early morning, I can barely make out the outline of the tress on the other side of the small lake. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at the sun. I can look at it for far longer than I should be able to. It is a deep orange ball, hanging suspended in the thick haze, flickering slightly, like a candle about to be extinguished. I sigh slightly. “The light will never pierce through.”

But I am wrong. Somehow it does. As the day goes on, the light becomes stronger. It transforms from a wobbling ball into a blazing fire, too bright to look at. The fog persists, but it is less oppressive as the day goes on. Slowly, the sun overpowers it and is seen in all its glory.

Living here in South Asia, it can feel like a dark, lifeless place. Injustice and suffering are all around. The majority religion looms large, a mosque on every corner, women covered head to toe, men’s beards dyed to show their piety. The church is small, often fractured, often invisible. Persecution is rife. How can life come in this place? How can light pierce through?

And yet it will. Though we see little of it yet, we trust that the Lord is at work. This land has seen little gospel fruit until now. Nonetheless, life is here. Light is here. And like the fish, we see the ripple effects around those who choose to follow Jesus, difficult though it may be.

Right now, the witness in much of this country feels like a feeble one. But Jesus has said, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it”. Just as the sun burns brighter as the day goes on, so also with the Son. The sun will break through the smog, and the Son will break though the darkness, bringing light and life. We pray for this country. We pray in faith. The work is only just beginning. But as Paul writes to the Philippian church, I pray over the church here, “I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”  

I think about my own life. A recent battle with feelings of anxiety has left me feeling shaken. My own brain has been a murky pond, my own heart a smog-filled city. Life and light have felt distant. I have been trying to tease this out – how much is mental, physical, spiritual? I have tried to solve the problem – what can I do differently, to make this go away?  But today, a team member read Psalm 46 at our morning devotion time. The whole Psalm encouraged me, but I will share just the last two verses here:

“Be still, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!”

The LORD of hosts is with us;

The God of Jacob is our fortress.”

Regardless of our feelings and experiences, he says, “I am God”. He is with us. He is our fortress. So now, I will be still, and know. Though the feelings and fears have not gone away, I will be still, and know. I will wait. I will wait to see the rays of sun slowly pierce through the mist until I see it in all its fullness.

Life will flourish, and light will break though. For this country, and for me.