story behind the song: darkness
I was invited by two amazing women to volunteer with Baptist on Mission after the 2024 flood in western NC. We stayed at Biltmore Church in Arden, NC. That church was incredibly generous and kind during our tenure there as volunteers.
The three of us had arrived on Monday and it was now Thursday. We had worked long, hard days in close quarters. Most days I was up by 4:30 am and in bed after 10 pm. I was tired. I was emotional. I was confused by memories that kept creeping in about a camp I attended when I was about 8 years old. These memories kept bubbling up during my interactions with two volunteers in particular.
Working closely with others was taking a huge toll on my mental and spiritual health. Physically, I was exhausted from working long hours. My routine had been interrupted and I was sleeping on the floor of a classroom. I felt like I was failing to be helpful and I felt like I didn’t belong.
Our fearless leader asked us to take a break that day. Grateful for her wisdom and knowing I needed this, I set off to find a quiet, secluded spot where I could be alone and probably cry. With my Bible, guitar, and a favorite book of poetry in tow, I wandered over to a corner of a secluded parking lot. I sat down on a curb next to a little maple tree and began to let myself feel what I was experiencing.
I felt like I had been exposing my true, dysfunctional self to the ladies that I would have to go back to church with on Sunday. What would they think? Was I damaging or offending them? And what was with the weird flashbacks to camp when I was about 8 years old?
I opened my Bible to John 4 and read a beloved story: Jesus and the woman at the well. This woman had lot of emotional baggage, but Jesus reached out to her. He was not offended by her, He knew her. He answered her questions and asked His own, and finally, in an incredible twist, He flat out told her that He was the Messiah.
I opened up the book of poetry I had brought with me “Beneath the Flood” by Jen Rose Yokel. I read my favorite poem, “In Praise of Limits,” out loud to the wind and the leaves rustling around my feet. The words of this poem comforted me so much.
I could not contain myself, I began to praise God for His extravagant kindness to this woman and to me. I was not meant to carry all of this, but He could. Praise became a weapon against all of this tiredness and confusion and helplessness. I started to sing and this song came out: darkness.
In this song I told God I would praise Him even in the midst of the terrible loss caused by the flood. I would praise Him even though I was confused about the camp memories. I would praise Him even though I was hurting because of the “un-belonging” and uselessness I was feeling. As I sang, He reminded me that He was happy I was here to help others. He had asked me to be here, I had His permission to be here.
When I returned from my break, I was refreshed. I was able to walk the church halls doing chores with confidence and joy. I devised a sincere, albeit weird way to apologize to the two ladies I may have offended. And in an over-the-top expression of His love for me, God began healing some of the trauma from the camp experience I had been remembering.
Friend, God literally gives you permission to be here. So, let’s be here and fight the darkness with praise and truth.
Beneath the Flood by Jen Rose Yokel
