I Dissent--the Two Words That Could Change Everything

The "longest night" is coming... how two words can help us make it through

Photo by David Monje on Unsplash

We’re told the longest night of the year is coming. So, why then was last night so long? We drove down, off the mountain to our hometown to see people who were caught in the darkness by illness, plight and challenge. We tried to bring light into the the darkness. But, I felt such a gravitational pull that I felt myself sinking inside. Like being pulled down, down into an abyss that was dark.

In our visits, there was little cheer. But, much struggle. You know how it goes sometimes. Even the ones who are the Enneagram 7’s are sometimes forced to admit—the winter does get bleak, sometimes! We returned home last night tired and exhausted, not from the travel, but by so much darkness.

I spoke to one about the election and felt little hope. I shared with another about their health condition. When I asked them how they are processing their disease in their mind , he said, “It is a bitch.” That one word said so much that neither, he or I needed anymore elaboration. It was a dark word describing a God-awful disease that has hijacked his life and hope for a cure. There is none. Darkness.

Isn’t it interesting how one single text can bring such dark news? An innocent baby, struck down now, in Neo-Natel ICU. Breathing, because of a machine and tube. But mind you, at least there is an ICU here, but not in Gaza where a baby died last night.

All this waiting. Waiting is darkness too. There are parts of my new church I just don’t get yet. We are not singing songs of Christmas. There are not red poinsettias adorning the alter. It’s just drab. And it feels dark inside too. I want to say, “Can we not just adjust the light, please. It’s too dim in here. Can we just now sing one carol of hope?” No, the answer is. This is advent. We must wait. It’s just dark. Who am I to say? I don’t know the ways of a church with so much history, stained glass and robes?

So, in the early morning, I got up before the sun did. It’s a massive, rain filled day here. Gray and wet and cold—a trinity of misery. I knew I needed to light the candle, Gwen and I light so often when we feel so weary.

I lit this solitary candle this morning and I said, these two words as I sat down with my fresh, drip coffee to drink. I said: “I dissent.” Those two words just worked their way up in my soul and they found their way out—unplanned, unpredicted, and unwelcomed.

In saying, “I dissent!” I was saying, “I don’t like all that happened yesterday.” I don’t like all I heard from my hurting friends. I don’t like this child I love and I have held, on a ventilator. I don’t like it that the dearest person to me in the world told me, “I’m ready to go. I no longer have the will to fight anymore.” These two words just say it all, don’t they? When my friend, told me that she was ready—but my first feeling down in my heart was only this: But I am not ready for you to go. Oh, no, not now. Not right now when everything is so, dark. Could you at least wait till spring to die? Death, though takes no orders from anyone. We are only a witness to it’s power.

To dissent is to: “hold or express opinions that are at variance with those previously, commonly, or officially expressed.” I felt like those words came from my deep soul and when I said them, I said them again and again. I began to see the light of the candle in a new way. Just saying “I dissent!” Just helped.

So, I wrote a poem. Here it is. It’s titled, “I Dissent!” See what you think and how it makes you feel. See, if my words tap anything inside you that you, too can say, “I dissent.” When you say such a thing as I dissent, then you don’t need to take on any more like you can fix something; raise the dead, heal a baby or stop a war. Sometimes, perhaps, just saying the words, “I dissent.” might reach the sanctum of heaven and if enough of us say just brave words, then more light may just come.

You’ll need to become a “paid subscriber” to read this. I know that sounds odd, doesn’t it. But I is such a small way to light a candle and say, “Steve, I see you trying to light a candle in these posts!” Thank you if you can. If you can’t. That’s ok, too.