If you read or watch national news here in Canada, you’ve likely heard about the tragic car accident that took the lives of six young people early last Saturday morning. You have probably seen the names and faces of the three guys, and three girls.

Two of those names mean a lot to me.

This is Jayden                                      This is Tarren.

I had the privilege, in my two years of cabin leading at Manitou Lake Bible Camp, to have both of them in my cabin.

I have been hit pretty hard by the loss of these guys.  Death is difficult.  The death of young people just starting their journeys is utterly devastating.

Last Monday night, as I mourned, I decided to visit the crash site.

There were a number of people there when I arrived, but eventually I stood there alone by the side of the road.  I think I stood by the makeshift memorial for about half an hour, and in that time the sun began to set.

Now, if you’ve never experienced a prairie sunset, you have to understand that it is simply spectacular because the sky is just so BIG.  There are no hills and few trees to block the view, just a whole lot of horizon and a whole lot of sky.

I looked behind me to the west for a moment to watch the sunset, and then turned back toward the memorial and looked past it to the east where all I saw was a growing darkness as night slowly began to take over the landscape.

I was struck by how much life is like that.  Over the last year, I have faced a number of trials and losses in my life.  The sun set on several significant parts of my life and there were a lot of times when I thought, “Why can’t we just hold onto the way things used to be?”

Have you ever been driving west as the sun goes down, and wondered how fast you would have to go to keep up with it?  Even in the fastest vehicle on earth, there’s no way to outrun the 1675 km per hour speed of the earth’s rotation.

If we can’t outrun the darkness, do we watch in desperation as the sun disappears behind the horizon and the light fades, grasping for what we had, and letting the darkness overtake us from behind?  Or do we turn towards the darkness, and face the fear that it brings head on?

In “A Grief Observed”, C.S. Lewis wrote of losing his wife, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”

When we lose someone, we ask a lot of questions:  “Why didn’t I…?”  “What if I had only…?”   “How will I go on without…?”

The what-ifs and the why’s can overwhelm us if we let them, because we are so afraid of the unknowns: the unknown of what could have been, and the unknown of what is to come.

With so many unknowns, how can I walk forward into the darkness?  How can I even pick up my foot to take that first step?

I would like to believe that I can walk into the darkness knowing that night is not forever. I can walk into the darkness with the faith that morning will come again, the earth will keep on turning, and that even after the darkness has completely engulfed me and become its darkest and I see no end, the sunrise will come.

I’m not a morning person, so I don’t often get up to see the sunrise. On the occasions that I have, it has been powerful for me to see the new beginning and awakening that it brings as it ushers in another day, a new chance to live.

In George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, characters often say, “The night is dark and full of terrors”. But as dark and terrifying as the night may be, it doesn’t last forever.  In the finale of the musical Les Miserables, the cast sings, “Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise”.

There is the hope that I have to hang on to, the ONLY hope that keeps me going.  The hope that there is a God who is good, a God who grieves when we grieve, weeps when we weep, holds our hand as we walk through the darkness, and leads us into the light of a new day. Beyond that, He has an even greater dawn waiting for us, if we choose to accept it.

I know that Jayden and Tarren both believed in that hope. In fact, I had the privilege of being there when Jayden decided to take a hold of that hope and commit his life to follow Jesus.

I know that Jayden and Tarren believed they would see their Jesus when their time on this earth ended. Though I am sure they did not expect that day to come so soon, the sunrise they are experiencing is beyond anything we can imagine, even here in the prairies.

And so it is in hope and anticipation that I walk forward into the darkness of fear, loss, grief, change, and uncertainty.

Perhaps there will be a moon tonight to light my steps, or the stars will twinkle brightly above to guide me. Perhaps it will be so dark that I can’t see my hand in front of my face or know where my feet will fall. Whatever this night may bring: pain, tears, or heartbreak, I know the sunrise is coming and I will cling to that.

So, to those of us who are still here, grieving, and feeling the fear of night closing in around us, I offer one of Jayden’s favourite Bible verses:

Joshua 1:9
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go”.

And to my friends Jayden and Tarren, who today get to see a greater sunrise than we can imagine, a quote from one of my favourite films, Gladiator:

“I will see you again, but not yet…not yet…”