“You will do well to pay attention to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” —2 Peter 1:19
I sit here on Easter Sunday, waiting for my family to arrive to celebrate a delicious evening meal together. Yet, for now, my mind is on the things that have happened to me over these last 40 days.
To put it plainly, I have returned home – and though I could probably write an entire book about the things I have experienced on my return journey, I will try to put it as simply as possible.
I was born and raised Catholic here in Montgomery. I went to Catholic school from pre-K through 12th grade, attending Mass nearly every Friday and Sunday morning – and as a child, I truly believed. I even wanted to be a priest in third grade!
Yet, my faith started fading with the coming of age. I never fully rebelled, but as a teenager, I often felt as though I was going through the motions with too many questions unanswered. By my sophomore year in college at Auburn, my faith quietly faded to a dormant darkness in my heart. For nearly two decades, my faith felt this way, lost and alone in the dark, like a child who feels hidden from his parents because he has his eyes closed tight.
God was hidden from me because I was hiding from Him. Yet, I was never truly hidden. I now see He was always leading me back home, always by my side. Yet, for nearly 20 years, I resisted with eyes shut like a child pretending I was blind. Regarding my relationship with God in those years, St. Augustine’s words well describe my wayward ways, “You were with me, and I was not with you.”
Yet, this past Ash Wednesday, after months of reading the Bible, I finally returned. There was no plan. I just went back – back to the same church building where I was raised – St. Bede the Venerable Catholic Church on Atlanta Highway in Montgomery. The same church where I attended Mass twice a week as a student, the same church where I watched friends get married, the same church where I eulogized my mother in the midst of the unbelief of my despairing, dormant heart.
I didn’t know what to expect upon returning, but what has happened over these 40 days of Lent I will never forget.
I started attending daily morning Mass, sitting in afternoon Eucharistic Adoration for hours on end, receiving a peace I cannot begin to comprehend. From these experiences, often interior, I truly believe the Word of God is living and active, and if you give your heart to Him, He will make it new.
It’s not as though I didn’t have bad days during this return. I was tempted and tested. I felt down and out. I even felt fearful, whether awake or asleep, troubled by terrors and doubts.
But after each bad day, through faith and prayer, I have found an even better day follows – that our suffering and doubts can be a gift, if only we can open our eyes to it.
There is one particular bad day that culminated in an unforgettable interior vision. About two weeks into my newfound routine of daily Mass, I was feeling truly pleased with myself, an extra pep in my step and song on my lips.
I believe it was the afternoon of March 5 when I felt an attack from a place of pain and resentment, as though an old wound was spewing venom against my joyful return home. My deepest insecurities and past sins rose up out of the shadows, whispering that no matter what I did, the world would always see through me for the proud, phony, ugly wretch I would always be.
I tried to shake it off, but the poison kept flowing with an obsession that didn’t want to be healed, like I had been hooked by a barbed blade of darkness.
That afternoon, feeling desolate, I laid down, closed my eyes, and began to pray, holding Mary’s hand, meditating on the sorrowful mysteries of Christ’s passion – from Gethsemane to the scourging at the pillar to the crowning of thorns to the carrying of the cross to the crucifixion – until the venom slowly subsided and the whispers of discouragement fell quiet.
Yet, in that silence, I still felt wounded and surrounded by an utter darkness as vast as a starless cosmos. That’s when I began saying, “Thank you, God, thank you,” repeating the phrase over and over, thinking of all He had done at Calvary.
Soon I saw a faint light, a faraway candle flame, at the very center of the darkness. Upon each repetition, the light pulsed outward, slowly extending into the darkness.
I kept saying, “Thank you, God, thank you.”
Then the light no longer seemed far away, nor a mere candle, but an interior star slowly rising in the dormant darkness of my heart, serving as a lamp to illuminate the darkness around me. And in that growing light I began to see the faces of my family, living and dead, then the faces of my friends and colleagues, then those who I had met upon my long return home.
I kept saying, “Thank you, God, thank you,” and they all began joining me, hand in hand, in a simple song of praise.
And as the light grew further, I began to see faces above me I didn’t quite recognize, yet who still felt familiar and warm, as though they had always known me. Whether they were angels or saints, I do not know, but the light was flowing like blood and water, bringing us together into one body, moving us together to brave the darkness and search for those still lost in shadows.
After a final, “Thank you, God,” I opened my tear-soaked eyes, awestruck by what had just occurred. Only later would I discover the words of 2 Peter 1:19.
I hesitate to share such interior visions (they are very personal indeed), but as I wait for my family to celebrate this Easter, I must let those still lost know that they are not alone – and that the day is not too late to return home.
Just look to the Word as a lamp shining in a dark place in your heart, thank God, and let your feet follow.
Joey Clark is a native Alabamian and is currently the host of the radio program News and Views on News Talk 93.1 FM WACV out of Montgomery, AL, M-F 12 p.m. - 3 p.m. His column appears every Tuesday in 1819 News. To contact Joey for media or speaking appearances, as well as any feedback, please email [email protected]. Follow him on X @TheJoeyClark or watch the radio show livestream.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
Don’t miss out! Subscribe to our newsletter and get our top stories every weekday morning.
