LEARNING TO WALK in the Dark
“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark...”
~ JOHN 20:1
LEARNING TO WALK in the Dark
"I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really only one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light."
~ Barbara Brown Taylor
References to light fill the pages of scripture. They bear witness to the brilliance and brightness of God’s presence.
And yet. The truth is that we human beings spend much of our time walking in the dark. Our faithfulness is fleeting. Our wisdom wanes. Our understanding is always incomplete.
The sacred season of Lent offers us an invitation to experience the darkness and ask what it might have to teach us. This year at Second, we’ll be exploring the truth of human limitation and the gift of our fragility—lessons best learned in the darkness that precedes the dawn.
All the while, we lean toward the horizon, trusting that Easter begins in the dark.
SENIOR PASTOR
Lenten Worship Schedule
ASH WEDNESDAY • MARCH 5
7 PM • Sanctuary
MARCH 9
Weary to the Bone • Jeremiah 20:7-18
MARCH 16
Who’s Afraid of the Light? • John 3:16-21
MARCH 23
Dark Night of the Soul • Job 3:1-9, 20-26
MARCH 30
Before You Give Up... • Psalm 139
LAKE FELLOW SUNDAY • APRIL 6
A Whisper in the Dark • 1 Kings 19:1-18
PALM SUNDAY • APRIL 13
Protest of Palms • Luke 19:28-40
MAUNDY THURSDAY • APRIL 17
Service of Tenebrae & Communion 8 PM • Sanctuary
GOOD FRIDAY • APRIL 18
Meditations on the Seven Last Words of Christ 12-3 PM • Chapel
Easter Sunday
APRIL 20 • EASTER SUNRISE
7 AM • Labyrinth (McFarland Hall contingency)
9 & 11 AM • SANCTUARY
It Was Still Dark • John 20:1-18
INVITATION TO A PRACTICE OF Digital Sabbath
From its earliest days, the Christian movement has encouraged practices of fasting, repentance, and self-discipline during the season of Lent as part of our preparation for the celebration of Easter. Many of us are familiar with the notion of “giving something up” for Lent—practices that help us make space, claim time, and cultivate a deeper awareness of God’s presence.
In today’s world, much of our time and attention is occupied by digital engagement—our screens, notifications, and social media feeds. While technology offers connection, it can also become a source of distraction, anxiety, and noise. As part of our focus on Learning to Walk in the Dark, we invite you to consider a Lenten practice of Digital Sabbath—a time to step away from devices and step into intentional spiritual renewal.
Throughout Lent, we will walk this journey together, setting intentions, supporting one another in our commitments, preparing for this sacred act of self-denial, and exploring alternative spiritual practices. We will also reflect on how this practice shapes our individual and congregational lives. The goal is not perfection, but a deepened awareness of God’s presence and a renewed experience of Sabbath rest.
Join us in this Lenten journey—one of stillness, presence, and rediscovering the sacred in the spaces we so often fill with artificial light and manufactured noise.
WEEK 1 • MARCH 9
WEARY to the BONE
"If I say, 'I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,' then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot."
~ Jeremiah 20:9
Jeremiah is a man with his back against the wall, and it seems God is the one holding him to it.
In Jeremiah 20:1-2, the priest Pashhur puts Jeremiah in prison inside the temple of God for preaching God’s own message. After this ordeal, Jeremiah goes to God directly, with the impassioned claim, “You have deceived me, Lord! . . [your word] has brought me insult and reproach.” Jeremiah looks into the heart of his situation and tells God the truth of how he feels; “You did this to me!” Perhaps this doesn’t seem like what a good man of God ought to say, but it is, in this moment, his most honest truth. He is angry with God. He wants to be done with this prophesying business altogether.
But verse 9 reveals his inner conflict. Jeremiah may want to hold in the word God has given him, but he cannot. He may wish to run from telling the truth to those in power, but it burns like a fire deep in his bones. This conflict runs throughout his entire prayer (Jer. 20:7-18). In one verse he says, “Sing to the Lord!” In the next, “Cursed be the day I was born!”
In all of his conflicted, tormented prayer, Jeremiah tells the truth. He does not hold back his deepest pain from God’s hearing. He does not pretend to love the job of Prophet when he does not. Nor does he collapse into despair, as he holds out hope that God is still guiding him. What Frederick Buechner says of Shakespeare we could also say of Jeremiah; “He looked into the dark heart of things, which is to say into his own heart, and our hearts, too, and told as close to the whole truth as he was able.” (Telling the Truth, pg. 6)
We, too, can tell God the whole truth. In fact, it is critical that we try. This truth may not be polished or polite. It may not sound like what a good Christian ought to say. But God does not clutch God’s pearls at our prayers. God wants our whole selves, including the parts we would rather keep hidden in the dark. God welcomes our despair as well as our hope, and walks with us even on our darkest, most conflicted and painful days.
This week, consider Jeremiah’s prayer, or slowly read through Psalm 22. Are there parts of these prayers you would be uncomfortable praying to God? What parts do you resonate with? Are there corners of your life or your pain you are keeping in the dark?
Rev. Audrey Thorne
LAKE FELLOW IN PARISH MINISTRY
Reflection
WEEK 2 • MARCH 16
WHO’S AFRAID of the LIGHT?
"And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil."
~ John 3:19
Do you ever feel like the darkness beckons you in? Perhaps you’re more comfortable in the quiet solace of the dark. Or maybe you even seek to create darkness that calls for the practice of avoiding light in the world. This light and darkness can be both physical and metaphorical. We may shut our curtains to take a mid-afternoon nap or perhaps we seek metaphorical darkness to avoid the hard conversations or harsh realities living among us. As Christians, we often find ourselves choosing paths of darkness like division, judgment, and other forms of sin instead of witnessing the light that has come into the world, the light of Jesus Christ.
This is the message that the Apostle John gives us in today’s devotional text of John 3:19. We, meaning our ancestors and us today, have loved darkness rather than the light of Jesus Christ in our lives. We are and have been tempted by the pulls of technology, social and cultural division, and all the worldly happenings that so easily pull us toward the solitude of darkness. However, as John rightly names with his words from so long ago, this is not the path we should seek. We are called to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16) that we need and that our neighbors, nation, and world so desperately need. We are called to be like mirrors, reflecting the light of Christ into our lives and the world around us. We are called to seek light in this world even when darkness beckons us in.
It is not a matter of if the darkness will call out to us but rather how we will respond when this moment comes. When the darkness calls out to you, how will you respond with light? In what ways has the light of Christ walked before, beside, and behind you before quipping you to challenge darkness? Trust and believe that Christ’s light in this world is holy and good and that following this light is a calling we must follow.
Rev. Hannah Ostlund
LAKE FELLOW IN PARISH MINISTRY
Reflection
WEEK 3 • MARCH 23
DARK NIGHT of the SOUL
"Let the stars of its dawn be dark; let it hope for light, but have none; may it not see the eyelids of the morning—"
~ Job 3:9
Seventeen shooting stars—that’s how many brilliant blazes of light we counted shooting across the sky on a late August night outside of Yosemite National Park. My friend Taylor and I were on a twoweek-long road trip out West, traveling and sleeping in his maroon 2008 Ford Taurus X. That night, the stars were brighter than we had ever seen. After a day of hiking, we climbed to the top of the car to lay on our backs on the roof and count the stars. We didn’t need a flashlight to see; the night sky lit our surroundings. But when we woke up the next morning, we looked up to see dark clouds and a hailstorm covering the once glowing stars.
The truth is that we don’t see seventeen shooting stars every night. In fact, we often can’t even see the sky. There are stretches or seasons where it seems as if we cannot escape the thick cloud cover of a gray January day. The sun sets, the clouds close in, and we are left alone in darkness. This is what it feels like to walk in the biblical metaphor of the wilderness. To fumble, trip, and stumble in the darkness as we cry out, echoing the words of the Psalmist: “How long, O Lord, will you hide your face from me forever?” (Psalm 13). I wonder if you’ve ever experienced this kind of “dark night of the soul,” or a time when it felt like you were wandering in the darkness, grasping for something to guide your path, squinting for any sign of light.
In Scripture, the story of Job’s life is a clear example of the dark night of the soul. Job certainly knew what it was like to feel surrounded by darkness. Pain and suffering enclosed Job to the point where he cursed the day he was born, crying out that the stars would be dark and never shine. He had lost all hope and felt the thick darkness closing in. Yet, what we learn from Job is that even in the midst of excruciating suffering, God is faithful, steadfast, and present. So often, our most transformative formation happens when we feel trapped, isolated, and alone. God works in these moments, forming us even amid pain and confusion. Job, in the midst of his suffering, could not see God; yet God was with Job. When the clouds come, the stars still shine, even if we don’t have eyes to see them. In the darkness of night, God is transforming us, teaching us to walk in the dark.
As we journey with Christ to the cross this Lenten season, take a moment to pause, leave the technology inside, and look up. Look up at the stars and see the wonder of light surrounded by darkness. Even when you don’t see the stars, they still shine. Even when you can’t seem to see God, trust that God is with you, transforming you in the darkness as you learn to keep walking.
Rev. Danny Carpenter
LAKE FELLOW IN PARISH MINISTRY
Reflection
BEFORE YOU Give Up...
"Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you."
~ Psalm 139
I was raised by a busy, single mother of three children who shuttled us from dance to debate to church. Now and then, as they do in any home of elementary age kids and working parents, things slipped. One day I was at the ballet studio and noticed that everyone else had been picked up so, not wanting to burden my dance teachers for a ride home, I shouted to the back office, “She’s here!” and slipped out the doors to the other side of a gas station so they wouldn’t see my escape. I was confident I could walk the 1-mile route primarily through neighborhoods, but once I had left the lights of the shopping center behind, I quickly grew scared. I ran for a bit but lost steam. I darted my head around, on high alert. And then I got an idea. I looked up at the stars and that’s when I began to sing,
“Jesus loves me, this I know, For the Bible tells me so Little ones to him belong…”
I wanted to trust then in the truth of the words Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “When light fades and darkness falls—as it does every single day, in every single life—God does not turn the world over to some other deity. Even when you cannot see where you are going and no one answers when you call, this is not sufficient proof that you are alone… darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day.”
I’ve learned since that experience, in my own losses and longings, it is usually best to have a childlike faith, to lift one’s head, sing a hymn, and walk headlong into the dark. After all, the darkness is where Jacob wrestled for his blessing, where the Magi could see the star, where Jesus plunged himself into our peril, and where Mary discovered and proclaimed, “He is risen.”
Our discomfort and dis-ease with darkness can lead us to miss the accompaniment of God we can only feel there. It can also cause us to miss the opportunity to be with other children of God in their pain and suffering, just as Christ is with us in ours. The Rabbi Sharon Brous writes, “Sometimes the holiest work is not to pray [people] into the light, but instead to join them in the dark.”
If you tend to slip out the door to avoid letting others see your pain or are prone to avert your eyes, look busy, or offer advice to the suffering rather than accompaniment, perhaps this practice of braving the darkness is for us. It could look like an evening walk in the dark (alone or with a friend) or an honest conversation that has long been delayed. In pushing back against despair’s companion of detachment, we remember God has never detached God’s self from us. In Jesus Christ, we are never alone.
May we look to this Light, lift our song, and journey bravely into the night. The blessing remains to be seen…
Gracie Payne
ASSOCIATE PASTOR OF ENGAGEMENT
Reflection
WEEK 5 • APRIL 6
A WHISPER in the DARK
"After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper."
~ 1 Kings 19:11-12
Thomas Keating, an American Trappist priest, once wrote, “Silence is God’s first language; everything else is a poor translation.” We often expect God to speak with grand displays—through the rush of wind, the tremor of an earthquake, or the blaze of fire. Yet, in this story, God’s voice is heard in a quiet, almost imperceptible whisper.
Not long after the glorious display of God’s power at the altar on top of Mount Carmel, Elijah felt alone and despondent when Jezebel threatened to take his life. Retreating into the wilderness and then to a dark cave, he experienced powerful wind, an earthquake, and a fire—but the Lord was not in these dramatic displays this time. Instead, God’s presence emerged in a “gentle whisper,” restoring Elijah’s sense of purpose. God sent him back to continue his prophetic mission, along with another surprise: seven thousand faithful souls still remained. After all, Elijah was not alone.
I vividly recall the evening I was consumed by fear as a tropical typhoon approached, at a time when everything still felt foreign to me in the Philippines. A fierce storm knocked out the power in our neighborhood for hours. At first, I panicked, fumbling through the darkness with no sense of direction. But as my eyes adjusted to the faint glow of candlelight, I became acutely aware of every subtle sound: the soft patter of rain, the rustle of wind in the trees, the rhythmic beat of my own heart. Later, when the rain finally stopped, I noticed a comforting stillness that seemed to cradle me in the dark.
In that silent darkness, for the first time since moving into the neighborhood, I met my next door neighbors. As we share our experiences of the power outage, I looked into their faces and their eyes glowed with candlelight. That night, God’s whisper became clearer than ever, reminding me why God had placed me in that neighborhood.
As we continue our walk in the silent darkness—whether by choice or circumstance—may we listen for the still, small voice that grows clearer with each step. Let it whisper to us what truly matters: the things we’ve long forgotten or denied facing, and the people and places we once called home and holy.
This week, step away from your screens. Light a candle in a quiet space and let its glow invite you into stillness. As you sit in that hush, listen for the gentle whisper of God: What truth is God stirring in your heart? Are there forgotten dreams, faces, or joys awaiting rediscovery? Jot down whatever surfaces in this sacred moment and allow it to shape the next steps of your journey.
Rev. David Kim
LAKE FELLOW IN PARISH MINISTRY
Reflection
WEEK 6 • APRIL 13
PROTEST of PALMS
"He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out."
~ Luke 19:40
Do you ever feel like the whole world is shouting? Do you ever feel like your internal voice is shouting? Do you ever feel like the volume of your life has been turned up to full blast? Our world and our lives can certainly feel loud and noisy—there is so much out there attempting to grab our attention, so much shouting and so much noise. And, if we’re honest, the world has gotten pretty crafty and pretty effective at grabbing our attention and we’ve gotten pretty good at letting it consume us.
Maybe we like the shouting? Maybe we crave the noise? Maybe we like the constant consumption? Maybe we want the steady diet of stimulation? Maybe we like our volume at full blast all the time? After all, if we allow the shouting and the noise to be our consistent companion, then we don’t have to do the hard work of truly listening, of truly sitting with each other (and ourselves) in the quiet and silence to regain our equilibrium and to focus on the voices and the noise that are shouting in a different tune and tone—singing a song of compassion and tenderness and embrace.
In Luke’s version of Jesus’s triumphal procession into Jerusalem—what we call Palm Sunday—the noise and the shouting is coming from a very clear source and the message is very succinct. It is the “whole multitude of the disciples” who begin to “praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!’” (Luke 19:37-38)
The shouting is coming from the disciples and the noise is very clear—Jesus is King!
Then, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, this makes the religious leaders very nervous, “Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” (Luke 19:39)
Perhaps their intentions were well meaning. Maybe they were worried that this kind of shouting, this kind of noise, this particular message would garner negative attention from the Roman powers and thus threaten Jesus’s life. Or perhaps their motives were self-interest, if this messaging upset the Romans, this could have political ramifications and the religious leaders could lose what little power they still had.
Whatever their reason, whatever their motivation, the religious leaders’ collective and passionate “Shhh!” is an attempt to keep the shouting and the noise of the status quo front and center while ensuring that the singular sound of Jesus be quieted, corralled, and contained.
Our world and our lives seem to be good at this, too. Shouts of joy and noisy niceness are snuffed out by a collective “Shhh!” that wants us to keep our attention on the status quo—division, competition, and consumption.
And yet, if we are able to silence the shouts of the powerful and block out the noise of dominance, we find a different kind of shouting, a different kind of noise—shouts of blessing and the noise of peace—and as we do, we join the multitude who are shouting Jesus is King!
Rev. Tom Markey
ASSOCIATE PASTOR OF YOUTH AND FAMILIES
Reflection
Easter IT WAS Still DARK
"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb."
~ John 20:1
Pop quiz: Q: Why do we worship on Sunday? A: That’s when Jesus rose from the dead.
Mary Magdalene is the original early bird, the first to worship on Sunday—and we’ve followed her lead ever since. She comes alone, expecting to mourn. To her astonishment, she finds that God’s grace has disrupted her grief. At first, grace is unrecognizable. It appears to be salt on the wound of a traumatic loss. Instead of a tomb to tend, she arrives to an apparently desecrated grave. Mary’s darkness seems to have gotten darker.
The darkness of midnight can be indistinguishable from the darkness before the dawn. Darkness, like the tears we cry, can represent sorrow or joy. The darkness Mary finds herself in—physically, emotionally and spiritually—is transformed from sorrow into joy by the risen Lord. By showing up in the dark, Mary allows the Lord to meet her in of her darkest hour.
It’s easy to hide ourselves in a stream of activity, technology and noise when darkness comes. Famed mathematician and theologian, Blaise Pascal, observed that we fill our lives with unending diversions in order to avoid the darkness that waits for us when we sit alone, in silence. Mary’s testimony bears witness to who waits for us in the dark: the light of the world, our living Lord Jesus Christ.
Reflect: What encounters with Jesus might you be missing by avoiding darkness and silence? Where might you make time and space this week to show up in the dark?
Reflection HE is RISEN!
Notes
Lenten Evening Worship Services
MARCH 9, 16, 23, 30 AND APRIL 6
5 PM Worship • Room 356
Calendar of Events
March 5
March 9*
March 9 - April 13
March 10
March 12
March 17 - 23
March 21
March 23
March 25
March 27 - April 7
April 1
April 6
April 13
April 16
April 17
April 18
April 19
April 20
April 21
*Daylight Saving Time Begins
Young Adults Ash Wednesday Dinner
Young Adults Brunch
South Africa Seminar
Memorial Flower Fund: Lillies
Second Act March Gathering
Men@Second Pop Up Social
Contemplative Prayer Stations
Men@Second March Mania
The Creation by Franz Joseph Haydn
South Africa Book Club
Men’s Monthly Fellowship
Malawi Mission Trip
Middlers Gathering
Lake Fellow Celebration: Rev. David T. Kim
Palm Sunday
Young Adults Brunch
Stations of the Cross
Maundy Thursday Service
Good Friday Service
Children & Family Ministries Easter Egg Hunt
Easter Sunday
Building Closed (Easter Monday)
“Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.”
~ PSALM 139
