“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” ~Psalm 27:1

I’ve had unsettling dreams the past few nights. In each one, I found myself in arguments with loved ones. Some felt like flashbacks to real conflicts from years past, while others were entirely fictional. Yet each time I woke, I carried the same feelings: rawness, fear, and confusion.

Where was this coming from? Were these repressed emotions? Was I angry? Is it my soul’s way of praying by bringing unresolved grief, fear, and uncertainty into the open?

The truth is, I’m in good relationships with the people who appeared in my dreams. Not perfect, because no relationship is, but steady, with the usual ups and downs. Still, the question lingered: Why now?

I felt like Atlas, the Titan condemned to hold up the sky. The weight pressed down, heavy and unrelenting. Mostly, I felt fear. One answer that surfaced was my fear of abandonment, the terror of being utterly alone.

And then I thought about life in recent years. A friend died just days ago. Others have passed away recently. One friend seemed to withdraw from me after losing a loved one. Another accused me of not caring.

Then there’s the wider world: the news, the endless crises. Covid rising again. Flu and respiratory illnesses. Global problems are stacked on personal ones. It felt as though the sky really was crashing down. Panic and overwhelm consumed me.

On the third night, I finally carried my dreams to God. I poured out my fear, anger, and hurt in a kind of Psalm of lament, for myself, my loved ones, my community, and the sorrows of the world. Alone in the dark, afraid, I didn’t receive answers to my questions. But I did hear a reminder:

Jesus is my light in the darkness. The Lord is with you. Rest in this knowledge.

Sleep still eluded me. I tossed and turned, unwilling to face another dream. Eventually, I went downstairs to my office and sat in the dark, trying to process everything. The thought came: light a candle.

So, I did. I stared at the flame and whispered, “Jesus is my light in the darkness. Jesus is my light in the darkness…” Slowly, my panic subsided. Peace entered my body. I relaxed into the truth that I am never truly alone.

The candle became a visual reminder: to turn my attention toward God rather than my fear. To let light break through the shadows.

• What “weights” are you carrying right now that feel too heavy for you?
• What practices (like lighting a candle, repeating a mantra, or sitting in silence) help you shift from panic to peace?
• How might you let the image of “Jesus as light in the darkness” guide you through this Advent season?
• Breath prayer: On the inhale: “Jesus is my light”; on the exhale: “in the darkness.”
• Activity: Write down each fear or grief as a “weight,” then place it symbolically at the foot of the cross.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” ~ John 1:5

A newsletter by Katie Rea.