The same sun that sank beneath the horizon will rise again—dawn is as certain as dusk. Cling to the days of health, joy, and intimacy with God, fellow church members, your children, and any other that God might bring across your path, for seasons of sickness, sadness, and loneliness will surely come. When they come, remember the graces and gifts of the past.

There is a memory that will forever be ingrained in mine and my wife’s story. Within the past year, my wife and I became foster parents and received our first placement—a sweet two-year-old girl. Our connection with her was immediate. Within a day of picking her up from the hospital, it felt like she was our own child.

Nevertheless, it was God’s kind providence that led to the phone call that all foster parents dread but expect: they were coming to pick her up to take her to be with family.

The grief was immediate and deep. How do you just let a child you have grown to love go? Regardless of our desires, the time came, the social worker arrived, and against every fiber in us, we put that little girl in a car seat, never to be seen by us again.

And we wept—we wept long, and we wept hard. To this day, when I think of her, it moves me deeply.

When the soul is drowning, to what can it cling that is buoyant enough to keep it afloat? In those days of darkness, I found myself reflecting on the Preacher’s words in Ecclesiastes 11:7–8. They have held my hand as my wife and I have learned what it means to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10) in the wake of our first child’s departure.

These verses invite us to look honestly and soberly at both the sweetness of life’s light and the certainty of its darkness. I invite you to reflect with me on what it means to bathe in the light as the sun dips below the horizon and the shadows of evening begin to gather:

“Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. For if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many” (Ecc. 11:7–8).[1]

1. Bathe in the Light

It’s a beautiful verse, but what does it mean that light is sweet? In Ecclesiastes, light is the gracious revelation and manifestation of God’s goodness in a dark and broken world (2:13–14; 11:7–8). “Light” is not something meant to remain abstract—it is the very grace of God that warms the heaven-bound soul as they undoubtedly trek through many long, cold, and lonely evenings. It is something that can be held onto, whether physically or spiritually—it can be noticed, received, and remembered.

The light for my wife and me are the evenings of cuddles as we watched Bluey with our little girl and our shared laughter as she would get the “zoomies” before bed. The light was watching this child from an unbelieving family learn the rhythms of song and prayer.

There is much light elsewhere in my life. My wedding day. Reconciling with family members after years of relational tension. Brunch dates. Time in the Word and prayer where I feel intimate with the Lord and on fire for his mission.

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