November is a time of year that feels heavy for many.The nights are long. Clocks turn back. Skiers wait for the first snowfall. Children wait for Christmas. And many of us feel like we are just…waiting. Waiting for things to get better. Waiting to complete a never-ending to-do list. Waiting for a better job. Waiting for broken hearts to mend. In the while, we remain caught up in the daily tasks of living whilst being weighed down by a longing for something more. The reality is that darkness often surrounds us, not just in November. Spiritual, physical, or emotional struggles can overwhelm us. For our family, this time of year has additional significance. Our son arrived very prematurely, and very unexpectedly into this world in mid-October. Born at 25 weeks, he would spend the first 115 days of his life in hospital. It feels like our bodies still remember some of those long November nights spent at our son’s bedside. We wanted to desperately hold him yet were often only able to reach our hand inside the isolette and cover his body with our hand. We had so many questions, and so few answers. It’s a time of year that can, for many of us, parallels what St. John of the Cross called the “dark night of the soul,” a season when God seems silent. God seemed silent during many of those November days for us. The missionary, Amy Carmichael, understood long nights.She faced early hardship when her father died, leaving the family in financial distress. Her calling was marked by repeated illnesses and disappointment. After arriving in India in 1895, she discovered the horrific practice of temple prostitution and began rescuing children, founding the Dohnavur Fellowship, facing steep opposition on multiple fronts. Bedridden for the last 20 years of her life, she nonetheless made a significant impact in the world. From her bedside, she would pray. And she would write - classics like Candles in the Dark, offering hope from her sickbed. She wrote, “Sometimes clouds obscure the hills, but the hills are still there.” In her book, Gold by Moonlight, she writes that we won’t have “strength to resist the ravaging lion as he prowls about seeking whom he may devour, unless our hearts have learned to accept the unexplained in our own lives, and the delays and disappointments and reverses which often come where our prayer for others seems to fall into silence…” Like the northern lights that many of us witnessed earlier this month, we often see glimpses of glory.Some of us (perhaps I’m talking about myself!) love to chase the aurora borealis. I wish I could say that I seek God with all of my heart, soul and mind, with the same fervour and excitement as when I look up and search for the faintest signs of the northern lights. Yet, knowing that God works in all circumstances, could it be that the darkness, which we so often lament, is the means by which God is drawing us closer to Himself? St John of the Cross puts it so much more eloquently: “O night more lovely than the dawn, O night that united the lover with the Beloved.” How do we learn to find God in the darkness? God’s story is indeed one of illumination, even when our path is dark. Jesus declares:“I am the Light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). From the first words of creation—“Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3) -To the promise that darkness cannot overcome the light (John 1:5), the light of the Lord is here. Our hope and the fullness of His light continues until it is made complete in the very last chapter of the Bible, when the night is no more, and God’s light is made full in our lives. Hanukkah, the Feast of Dedication, has helped me to understand God’s story.In 167 BCE, the Jewish people were living under the rule of the Seleucids. King Antiochus IV desecrated the Temple, outlawed Jewish worship, and defiled the altar. A small group of Jewish rebels, known as the Maccabees, revolted against the powerful Seleucid army (whose troops included both chariots and elephants!). When improbable victory came, the Second Temple was cleansed and rededicated. Tradition tells of a miracle: when the temple was rededicated, God’s presence allowed one jar of consecrated oil, enough for one day, to burn for eight until new oil was prepared. Those preparing the oil took the bold step of lighting a candle in the darkness, knowing that they only had enough provisions for one day. This was undoubtedly an act of faithfulness in the small things, giving away all that they had. For followers of Christ, the story of Hanukkah foreshadows Jesus—the ultimate Light, the Servant Leader, who purifies hearts, lights our hearts aflame, and pours Himself out completely for us. John 10:22 recounts Jesus at the Feast of Dedication, walking into the temple, affirming His identity, boldly proclaiming Himself as the Son of God - and therefore the light of the world. Oil in Scripture is used for anointing and as a symbol of the Holy Spirit. Jesus is the Anointed One—the Messiah—through whom we receive the Spirit, the “new oil” that never runs out. As the temple was rededicated during Hanukkah, we are now called to dedicate ourselves to the Lord, the true temple, whose light and love sustains us through every dark night. As believers, everything represented by the physical temple was fulfilled in Him, as He is God dwelling among us. In the long nights of November and the long nights of the soul, His presence is constant, even when unseen. But beyond Jesus as the ultimate temple, Paul reminds us, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16). The same Spirit that filled the Temple has been poured out on us, extending God’s presence into the world. Our lives are places where we are called to faithfully worship. In the long nights of the soul, be encouraged that His Spirit will accompany us, and accomplish what our strength cannot (Zechariah 4:6). Eugene Peterson, in ‘A Long Obedience in the Same Direction’, suggests that true discipleship is embodied by a slow, steady walk with God, rooted in trust and obedience over time.The journey is long. Our faith grows as we slowly and methodically build our lives in humility, worship, service and community, allowing God to work in His way and time even when we do not know the way forward. Small acts that mark our own community, whether it be those who prepare meals for a neighbour, or those who visit someone in hospital, encourage me that God is indeed transforming our hearts and shining His light into the dark corners of our world. For the Light has come, and the darkness cannot overcome it. In the words of Amy Carmichael, from her book ‘Gold by Moonlight’: ‘..as we rest our hearts upon what we know (the certainty of the ultimate triumph of good), leaving what we do not know to the Love that has led us all our life long, the peace of God enters into us and abides. And then we see our light. And in that light we shall see light. We shall see Him who is the Light of the world, and so of all the woods in the world. The entrance to the wood is dark. But we quickly pass through into light.’ As you go about these dark days of November, may His light shine and illuminate your path. - Jonathan Carlzon(a member of Sherwood Park Alliance Church, and also serves on the board of Elders at Sherwood Park Alliance Church.)