Life Without Shadows

Look around you right now.  Do you see them?  Shadows?

Your monitor has a shadow somewhere.  Your fingers on the keyboard or by the mouse; there are shadows around there.  The chair you’re sitting in, the books on the shelf, the flowers on the table, the lamp in your living room…shadows somewhere around there. 

Most of the time we miss shadows.  We aren’t trained to admire them, much less notice them.  And I’m not sure we ought to admire them.  There isn’t much there to admire.  But one day I did…

I’m a craftsman.  That’s a broad term and it touches lots of things in my life.  One thing it touches is my love for woodworking.  I have a space in a pole building that doesn’t belong to me.  It belongs to a marvelously generous person and it is filled with tools and wood.  It’s where I retreat.  It’s where I put my hands to work and make things I can see and smell and touch.  Being a pastor doesn’t often yield such a gift.

A couple weeks ago I was in my space and my hands were at work.  I was using some wood putty to fill small gaps in the joints I had been cutting.  All of a sudden and all at once – and maybe this has happened to you – several things occurred that stirred me to the point of overwhelm or wonder or curiosity, or something like that. 

The sun emerged from behind the clouds.  Sunlight poured in through the window where I was working.  Sharp lined shadows from my work piece appeared on my arms and chest.  Dark shadows rushed into the gaps I had yet to fill.  Lengthy shadows from the jar of wood putty and other tools spread about my work table pointed back at me.  Sparkling shadows from the wood dust that always hangs in the air danced around my nose. 

My eyes narrowed to slow the glare and my finger tips warmed.  And as my mind swiveled to take in this spontaneous assault on my mind and senses, these lines from an old hymn made new streamed from my mp3 player into the lit up space:

“While we walk the pilgrim pathway,

clouds will over spread the sky;

but when trav’ling days are over,

not a shadow, not a sigh.”

The hymn continued with the familiar chorus celebrating the day of rejoicing it will be when we all get to heaven.   But I was all a halt.  What in the world was that?  I thought to myself.  I spun my stool around and hopped off, taking care to not trip over the web of power cords I often weave.  I stood back and looked around the space.  Even with the lights on the space felt dark compared to the light splashed across my work table and onto the floor.  I opened the door and stood there in the warmth for several seconds.  I turned and there was my shadow on the floor, long and narrow.  Then I began to pace through the yard outside the pole building. 

Everywhere…shadows.

The massive cedar trees and bulky maples…shadows.  The fence posts and wire fencing…shadows.  The bean poles and other garden remains…shadows.  The water spigot, the chicken coop, my car, every blade of grass, the burn pile, each piece of gravel, the two dogs, the dried up flower stems, the bird near the gate, the pole building itself…shadows cast from everything, everywhere I looked! 

Now I know this is not breaking news.  The science of shadows is ages old and rather elementary.  The presence of directional light cast upon an object of certain mass produces a darkened outline of that object representing space the direct light can’t fill.  Yada, yada, yada. 

And this was surely not the first time I had ever seen a shadow.  I’ve played shadow tag with my kids.  I’ve spent hours reading or sleeping in the shadow of a backyard tree.  I’ve kicked plenty of unseen toys out of the shadows with bare feet.  No, the presence of shadows was not what captured me this day.  Rather, the future absence of shadows, like the song suggested, was what stole me away from my craft.

We can go nowhere and not experience shadows.  (A double negative seemed appropriate there.)  My list of shadows observed is less than exhaustive, but you get the idea.  Bury yourself under blankets, turn the lights out in the basement, hike to the back of a cave; no matter, there you are in a shadow.  As the line in the hymn indicates, even when the sun goes behind clouds, we still travel the earth in the shadow of the clouds.  As you think that through, think about this:  When the sun goes down we don’t merely encounter nightfall.  We encounter the shadow of the horizon, or perhaps better yet, the shadow of the earth itself. 

Now try looking around.  See shadows…everywhere?! 

Now, at this point, this blog post could go any one of a few directions.  Shadows, as real and all around us as they are, also make for great metaphor.  You have heard it said that many people have lived their lives “in someone else’s shadow.”  Maybe you have muttered that about yourself?  The darkened form and inescapable nature of our personal shadows has drawn many parallels to the failings we can’t seem to shake.  Maybe you have one following you?

The Psalmists, as well as Job and not a few of the Prophets of old, in Scripture make good metaphorical use of shadow.  Protection may be found in the shadow of [the Lord’s] wings or hands, or even in the shadow of Egypt (Psa. 17:8, 36:7, 57:1, 63:7; Isa. 30:2, 49:2, 51:16). 

I love Psalm 91:1:  “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.”  

There is also the “shadow of death” (Psa. 23:4, 44:19, 107:10-14).  Most of us are all too familiar with the pain of loss brought about by death.  As well and in close proximity to the “shadow of death,” our lives are amply compared to shadows, which is less than encouraging in Bible contexts of lamenting our life’s brevity or our tendency to waffle in character and choices (1 Chron. 29:15; Job 8:9; Psa. 102:11, 109:23; Ecc. 6:12; etc.).

And there is, as well, the strong New Testament sensation that all the really great stuff in the here and now – the weekly church celebrations, the generosity of offerings, the joy of obedience to God’s commands, etc. – these all are but “a shadow of the things to come” and the fullness and substance of them; the real celebration, the real offering, the real obedience, is rooted steadily in Christ Jesus who is “seated at the right hand” of God Most High (Col. 2:16-17, 3:1; Heb. 8:1-5, 10:1).

See that?  Lots of possible directions.  Each could be treated more extensively.  (The lead pastor at my church delivered a power-full sermon just this past Sunday that touched on the latter of the above.)  I won’t get tangled up in them here though.  I want to skip to the end.

After wandering around the yard outside my woodshop for several minutes I went back in and finished filling the gaps.  Later that night my fingers spun through the thin pages of my Bible, all the way to the end; to the book of Revelation.  You know what I found…or better yet, you know what I didn’t find?  Shadows.  Listen in…

“And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb.  And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb.  By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day – and there will be no night there.”  (Rev. 21:22-25)

“[God’s servants] will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.  And night will be no more.  They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.”  (Rev. 22:4-5)

The hymn was right.  There will be no sun or moon, so there will be no dark shadow of night.  There will be no light of lamp, so there will be no long shadow of furniture or tree or you or I.  There will be no source of directional light to cast upon an object of certain mass and so produce a darkened outline of that object representing space the direct light can’t fill…because there will be no space unfilled with light.  There will be no dark corner or dim path, nor dark heart or dim eye.  For the source of light will be the everywhere present emanating light of God’s glory before us, behind us, above us, beneath us, beside us, around us, and most certainly within us. 

So take it all in now folks, this shadowy space around you; even within you.  Stare hard or glance softly at the sharp lines and shady shapes.  There is certainly much to notice, though perhaps not much to admire.  But all the while, be reminded that one day, when these long days of traveling in the shadows, whether actual or metaphorical, are over, there will be not a shadow, not a sigh.  Just the full brightened glare of God’s glory; His goodness, as it were, to light up our…well, shadow of a life.