A Ray of Light in the Dark
By Iris Richard
I was on my way to an important appointment, which unfortunately was scheduled during the city’s much dreaded morning rush hours. If at all possible, I try to avoid driving during these times, planning my day in such a way that I can skip being on the road during those hours.
When I headed out the door, I hoped that it would be different that day, but to my dismay I soon got stuck in a slow-moving traffic jam. And to make matters worse, one of those old decrepit garbage dump trucks with an open back had pulled out of an apartment block right in front of me.
In Kenya, trash is a coveted commodity. We live in a land where most discarded items still have value for someone, and recycling is done on the city’s huge garbage dumps by people who live there in hovels and cardboard huts.
Most of these refuse-collecting vehicles are from decades past, and the outside looks as dreadful as the contents they are carrying. This truck was so old that it creaked loudly on its rusty hinges, spewed diesel fumes to passersby, and surrounded everyone in close proximity with a cloud of intrusive stench. As if to make it any better, it was decorated with discarded toys and old shoes that dangled from strings off the sides, and bits of old Christmas decorations were wrapped around the bars on top. I wrinkled my nose and felt like swearing at the bad luck—not only the traffic jam, but being jammed behind the worst possible vehicle without any way of escape.
Then I noticed the three garbage collectors dressed in dirty rags who sat in the midst of the heap of refuse on the open-back truck. One of the men was reading to the others from a big worn book. On closer inspection I realized that it was the Bible. The other two were listening intently. Their faces held a serene expression, as they seemed to be quite oblivious to their awful surroundings.
As I sat in my car, watching this incongruent scene, it got me thinking about God. Despite the jam, praise began to form on my lips and lifted my gloomy mood. Soon the traffic jam dissolved and the truck turned off into a side street. But the silent testimony of God’s presence in the midst of refuse and trash, and how these humble workers had partaken of something divine, stuck with me.
What I had seen reminded me that no matter what mess or difficulty I find myself in, God is there and His Word is just as real, alive, and powerful in any situation or place. One could be sitting in the flowery meadow of a lovely park, on a church bench, in the cozy confines of a nicely furnished living room, or conversely, on a heap of garbage or in some other undesirable place … all the same, God’s Word penetrates the heart and reaches deep into our souls. It sheds light into our darkness, gives grace for the battle, power for the hour, patience in a tough situation, hope in the face of despair, and faith that a brighter day will be just around the corner.
As I drove on, happy to have left the traffic jam behind but touched by what I had witnessed, a Bible passage I had read just that morning sprang to mind:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.—John 1:1–5 ESV
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