Tha Son Always Rises From Tha Blackness

Tha Son Always Rises From Tha Blackness

“You have a little faith. Why did you doubt?” – Matthew 14:31

Ya ‘ave a little faith. A little faith be enough. Stand yer watch and see how tha Son arrives from darkness. How he rises over yer head. How he warms a body ‘till we seek shade. How his brilliance blinds us as his stars dance on tha water before us.

Ya ‘ave a little faith. Now that tha Son be gone and ya stand all alone on tha deck in pitch, black darkness will ya ferget tha Son? Say ter yerself he ne’re was? That what ya seen and felt be but a dream?

Ya ‘ave a little faith. Now ya ‘ave doubts. With only tha rush of tha waves beating against tha hull and the howl of tha wind singing through tha rigging, yer tripping back ter yer old haunts. And why? ‘Cause ya find comfert in a thing ya kin see rather than a fading memory? How is it that yer faith in tha Son kin pass so quickly? Ya won’ proof tha Son be real? Touch yer cheek. That wee bit of sting ya feel be whar his fingers brushed yer skin. But if ya go and hide and refuse ter come out, that too ‘ill pass. And soon, even tha vision of his brilliance ‘ill be gone. It be like he was ne’er here. Stand yer watch. Don’t doubt. Trust in tha Son.

Ya ‘ave a little faith. Faith and fears. Faith and fatigue. Faith and not nary a friend with ya who believes yer tale of tha Son and his warmth. This be tha problem of sailing this world alone. This be why tha Son warns ya ter sail in pairs and double pairs. Tha company of others ‘ill keep yer spirits up when yer faith in what ya know—or thought ya knew—falters.

Ya ‘ave a little faith. All about is blackness. This be tha end of ever man without tha Son. Blackness so deep, so intense, so wide and cold that a feller kin scream and cry ‘till his voice be but a whisper and still no cry voice back. Blackness—that be tha thing ya feared most. Now it be here. Now it be all around.

Ya ‘ave a little faith. But wait! What be that in tha blackness? A spec of blood? Aye! ’Tis a thin line of blood splitting tha blackness. No. . . now it be gone. All is dark. An illusion. Ya be going mad. Mad and talking ter yerself.

Wait! There tha blood line be again. Yes, thar be no doubting it now. A seam in tha great expanse of blackness. And more rich, dark blood oozing through. Blood in blackness, that kin only be. . .

Ya ‘ave a little faith. Here comes tha Son. Ya kin see him clear, now. He be swallowing tha blackness with his brilliance. His blood be his glory. Ya be warm, now. Ya have hope, now. Ya have faith, now.

Ya ‘ave a little faith. Why did ya doubt?

Ne’er ferget: tha Son always rises from tha blackness.