It was night, and I wasn't tired enough to fall asleep in the car on the long drive home. The lights of the city provided a nightlight for my brain as I collected enough words for thought and wrote them down on the pages of the soul I keep trying to understand and follow and find all at once. The darkness was comforting, and the somber peace of it matched my mood... contemplative, wandering. What do I want of the people I love here? I can't ask them to live the life I lead in America - that doesn't make any sense. But, then - what of the life I lead in America is relevant to the life they lead here in Russia? What simple truths translate across oceans, centuries, traditions, languages, and hearts? What, essentially, does Truth boil down to, if not bound by culture or led by upbringing, but instead formed by reality that was real enough to rock a bunch of fishermen and set the world on fire, for or against? Which words, I wondered, could convey what really matters, if I myself find it hard to differentiate from the flannel-graph and nursery songs that formed the childhood faith in me that they never knew? The dark night enveloped my thoughts in a comforting way - neither answering nor swallowing them up... as if my thoughts found a seat among the stars and just let me look at them for a while. And then, a familiar song on the radio. Not a tired version of One Republic's Apologize or the overplayed Selena Gomez song that Russians love so much. No, this was Michael W. Smith. On a Russian Radio station. That's right, good ol' 90s Michael W. Smith. Sometimes when that happens in America, I wonder why the heck they're playing outdated music. But here, in the middle of the Russian countryside on a holiday night drive between Rostov and Taganrog, in the midst of my thoughts of what I'm doing here and if I could ever convey my hopes for my family and friends here, this song miraculously found its way to my ears...
God works in mysterious ways. But he works, that's for sure. I don't think I've ever appreciated those words from Michael W. Smith like I did tonight, somewhere in the night, wondering if the light was ever going to shine. I don't know what he was thinking when he wrote that song, but I'm always amazed at how lyrics of songs can say different things at different times and be equally powerful. I think I had a frown of disbelief on my face for a full minute, wondering how in the world that song found its way on Russian radio. But I heard it loud and clear. More encouragement in the dark. Proof that he's listening. Proof that he's working. Proof that the light will shine.
I will be here for you
Somewhere in the night
Somewhere in the night
I'll shine a light for you
Somewhere in the night
I'll be standing by
I will be here for you
God works in mysterious ways. But he works, that's for sure. I don't think I've ever appreciated those words from Michael W. Smith like I did tonight, somewhere in the night, wondering if the light was ever going to shine. I don't know what he was thinking when he wrote that song, but I'm always amazed at how lyrics of songs can say different things at different times and be equally powerful. I think I had a frown of disbelief on my face for a full minute, wondering how in the world that song found its way on Russian radio. But I heard it loud and clear. More encouragement in the dark. Proof that he's listening. Proof that he's working. Proof that the light will shine.
