I’ll never forget the first time I went hunting. It was early, long before the sun had even considered rising. With a headlamp and flashlight in hand, I hiked deep into the woods, the trees towering above me like silent sentinels. Every step crackled beneath my boots, and every sound around me seemed unnaturally loud. Once I reached my tree stand and climbed up, I settled in to wait.

And then came the noises.

Leaves rustling, twigs snapping, soft grunts echoing in the distance—I was certain a wild boar or a hungry bear was lurking just beyond my line of sight. My heart pounded in my chest, and I gripped the edge of the stand a little tighter. Fear had a firm hold on me, and I couldn’t see a thing.

But then… the sun began to rise.

The golden light crept through the branches and cast out the shadows that had gripped my imagination all morning. I looked toward the place where I’d heard the commotion and braced myself for a terrifying sight—and instead, I saw a family of squirrels bouncing from branch to branch, foraging noisily in the leaves.

That moment has stayed with me for years. It’s funny how everything in the dark feels bigger, scarier, and more threatening than it actually is. Darkness has a way of magnifying our fears and distorting reality. What was merely a handful of harmless squirrels sounded like a monster in the shadows.

It’s a lesson I’m reminded of even during ordinary moments—like walking my dogs at 4 a.m. Despite packing multiple weapons for protection, I still sometimes feel overwhelmed by the unknown. The fear of what I can’t see often speaks louder than the truth I do know. Even armed and prepared, fear can overpower me—if I let it. It doesn’t take a real threat to rattle our peace; it only takes our imagination running wild in the absence of light. But it’s in those moments I have to consciously choose faith over fear, truth over assumption, and light over shadow.

And isn’t life the same?

When we’re walking through a dark season—a loss, a disappointment, a betrayal, an unanswered prayer—everything feels heavier. Every small sound becomes a deafening roar. Every worry becomes a worst-case scenario. We lie awake imagining what might go wrong or wondering how we’ll make it through. Darkness has a way of speaking in exaggerations.

But just as the sun rose and exposed the truth of my fear, God’s presence brings light to our darkest places. His truth has a way of quieting the noise and showing us what’s real. The psalmist said in Psalm 119:105, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” God doesn’t always remove us from the dark woods, but He gives us light to see where we’re going and assurance that we’re not alone.

When we invite God into our darkness, we begin to see clearly. Suddenly, the things that once terrified us don’t hold the same power. That bill, that diagnosis, that conversation, that uncertainty—they may still exist, but with the light of God’s truth shining on them, they are put into perspective.

Jesus said in John 8:12, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” When we follow Him, even the darkest night can be filled with peace. We’re no longer left to the mercy of our imagination—we’re guided by the certainty of His presence.

So, if you’re walking through a season that feels shadowed and uncertain, don’t give in to the noise of fear. Don’t let the rustling in the leaves convince you that your life is about to unravel. Invite the Light in. Cling to God’s Word. Remind yourself of His promises. Let His peace quiet the chaos.

Because when the Son rises, fear flees. And when God shows up, darkness has no choice but to disappear.


Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for being the light in my darkest moments. Thank You that even when fear tries to overtake me, Your presence is greater. Help me to trust You even when I cannot see. Remind me that You are guiding me, step by step, and that Your truth brings clarity and peace. Shine Your light into every fearful corner of my heart. When I’m tempted to assume the worst, help me remember that You are in control and that things are often not as bad as they seem in the dark. Thank You for Your love, Your Word, and Your faithfulness. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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I’m Chaplain Jeff Davis

With God, all things are possible. I write to offer hope and encouragement to anyone walking through the in-between seasons of life. My prayer is that as you read these words—and see your own story reflected in them—you’ll be strengthened, reminded you’re not alone, and drawn closer to the One who makes all things new.

Books: 120 Days of Hopehttps://a.co/d/i66TtrZ, When Mothers Prayhttps://a.co/d/44fufb0, Between Promise and Fulfillmenthttps://a.co/d/jinnSnK The Beard Vowhttps://a.co/d/jiQCn4f

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