Look for the Glimmers

Sometimes life gets hard. We feel despondent in our suffering, uncertain of how and when it will end. It can feel like there is no light at the end of the tunnel and that restoration and redemption are impossible. We see no silver lining, and no "think positive" mindset can soften the pain and confusion.

A few weeks ago, I was in one of those dark times, confronted by a situation that felt hopelessly broken. As I was sitting at my desk ruminating, something caught my eye. On my kitchen table were two small yellow containers of rice porridge—the microwavable kind you buy at Costco. A friend gave them to me a few days earlier, knowing I was struggling and had lost my appetite. This was her way of wanting to make sure I was at least eating something. It was a glimmer of grace.

There have been other glimmers. I remember a season when grief felt unrelenting—days, weeks, and months. I wondered how long it would last and if I'd ever feel happy and whole again. I wanted God to heal me, to take away the pain, but he seemed silent when I prayed to him. Then, one day, I read Matthew 6:26: "Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" In my waning faith, Jesus’s words stuck with me. That day, though it was the dead of winter, I decided to take a walk outside to look at the sky and to look for birds. I was desperate, and as I walked, I quickly became discouraged when I didn't see any. But then—I saw one. Nothing extraordinary. But to me, that one small bird flying in the sky was a glimmer of grace. It was the beginning of many walks that winter, always on a mission to look for even one bird in the sky. Each time I saw one, I was given the smallest glimpse of hope that God was somehow taking care of me too.

In his book Recovering Eden, Zack Eswine wrote,

I often think of that quote. I think of how much the experience of suffering can abound, seemingly choking out life and joy. Suffering can be all we see when life is arduous, but it isn’t the whole picture. Flowers still bloom, friends give you rice porridge, and birds fly in the winter sky. All of these are glimmers of God’s grace. And though these small gifts did not remove my suffering, they demonstrated that God was still in it all. They bore testimony to his presence and care. He hadn't left or forsaken me. There was somehow still good in all that was hard and broken. The glimmers were manna in my wilderness that God was inviting me to collect day by day.

I see it in other people's lives too. The ability of a toddler to smile so wholeheartedly even after he had to live through devastating cancer treatments on his little body. The mere presence of a friend while reeling from a devastating betrayal. A timely worship song or Scripture verse. A day of small wins, like getting out of bed and doing the next small thing that needs doing. The simple text message of a friend checking in, a meal dropped off, or the sun coming out again after the darkness of night. They witness to a God who has not quit. The hard path of suffering continues, but these glimmers of grace may be enough to say, "Maybe in all this darkness, there is still light. Maybe in all this sorrow, there is still hope. Maybe in unanswered prayers, sorrow, and discouragement, I am still loved."

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