He couldn’t remember how long since the batteries quit and the long night engulfed him. Blackness, thick and absolute, hid everything. He pushed through tangled thorns, testing for holes. His fingers still encircled the useless, invisible flashlight. Fingers? Once more he wiggled them just beyond his nose. He saw nothing to confirm what only feeling and hope told him were there.

Suddenly, a branch snapped on his left. He tried to crouch, but massed branches pushed him back. Then, not caring what the night beasts heard, he cried between clenched teeth, “Lord, why didn’t you make these batteries last? Why won’t you make them work again? I need light!” More snaps, then unmistakable, measured steps closing in.

“Hey, mister,” the little voice asked, “whatcha doing here?”

“Who are you?” he hissed. “And how can you see me?”

Giggling, she said, “Open your eyes, silly. You’re in my mom’s hedge.”

Sometimes, when our way seems dark, we cry over dead batteries, ignoring the brilliant light already provided.

So, what happened the last time you found yourself searching for the sun with a candle?

Proverbs 19:3; John 1:3-5; Matthew 13:36-43; Matthew 17:1-8; Revelation 1:12-16