There’s A Darkness Upon Me That’s Covered In Light
For the last eighteen years, there haven’t been many days when I haven’t looked at Wade’s face.
It’s hard not to—it’s currently hanging in my den. Before that, it lived in my office for years. You see, Wade’s wedding gift to me and Jamie was a blanket with his face printed on it. It was easily my favorite gift we received that day. Now, sadly, it has become a reminder of the friend who passed away this just a couple of weeks ago.
Wade has been part of my life since the summer of 2005. I had just taken a job as the Area Director of Young Life in Asheboro, and Wade was the very first student I met. He was unlike any kid I had known before.
He was a little rough around the edges—on purpose. He had a sharp tongue and no problem telling you something straight to your face, even if it stung. He was honest and didn’t hold back; he kind of embraced being a jerk.
But for those who really knew Wade, that edge was a persona. Wade didn’t let many people in. He was guarded. But for those of us who knew him well, he was fiercely loyal and deeply kind to the people he loved. Once you were his friend, you were his friend for life. He was authentically Wade.
To be fair, he was also a lot like one of the characters from a show we both loved—Scrubs. If you’ve seen it, just imagine Dr. Cox. That was Wade: brash, bold, sharp—but caring more deeply than just about anybody. And yes, he would absolutely call you a girl’s name if you were doing something he deemed unmanly.
And I’m really going to miss him.
Wade is the second former student I’ve lost this year—a reminder not only of how old I’m getting, but also of the fragility of life. Every Christmas, our church holds a grief service for those who have lost loved ones, recognizing that the holidays often magnify the ache of those who are no longer with us.
This year’s service will be especially painful.
As I think about Wade and the reality of brokenness in the world—brokenness that feels all too close right now—I’m reminded of a song Wade introduced me to. He was a massive Avett Brothers fan. He always encouraged me to listen, and though I never really got into their full discography, one song became a staple in my playlists.
The song Head Full of Doubt and it opens with these lines.
There's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
And it comes in black and it comes in white
And I'm frightened by those that don't see it
When nothing is owed or deserved or expected
And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it
For me, that song has always captured something deeply true about the human condition—the duality we live with and the duality that lives within us.
One thing that has become abundantly clear to me over the last several years is that our world is marked by both good and evil, darkness and light.
And if we’re honest—so are we.
The song opens with an image that has always stayed with me: darkness flooded with light. Both are present at the same time. It reminds me of those old cartoons with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. As silly as they were, they nailed something true about the human experience. The struggle isn’t just around us—it’s within us.
That’s why one moment we can look a lot like Jesus, and the next moment a lot like the devil. I think this is what Paul is getting at when he talks about the old self and the new self.
But we don’t live on a neat timeline where we are the “old self” before Jesus and then instantly become only the “new self” after faith.
I’m convinced that the entirety of our lives is a wrestling match between the true self and the false self.
So what do we do?
The song points toward an answer—
In the fine print they tell me what's wrong and what's right
We need help discerning what is light and what is darkness. On our own, that’s incredibly difficult. I’ve always heard this line and thought about the beauty of the Scriptures—especially the Gospels—which reveal not only who God is, but who we are as well.
We are beings of light, created in the image of God and redeemed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And yet we are also born into sinful humanity, carrying real darkness with us.
We need the Scriptures to help us recognize what is true and what is not. More than that, we need them to declare who we really are—and who we are not.
In Colossians 3, Paul calls believers to put away the old (or false) self and to live in the reality of who we have already been made in Christ. He names us God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, and calls us to clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.
Don’t miss the boldness of that passage. Paul doesn’t say, Do these things to become like Jesus. He declares that we have already been given new life through Christ’s resurrection.
Our task is simply to believe that this is who we are—and then to try, again and again, to live in that reality.
Another line from the song has always unsettled me, in the best way. It’s frightening on both sides of this duality. Are we so overwhelmed by the darkness in our lives that we can’t see the light of our newly created selves? Or are we so captured by self-righteousness that we forget the old self still lingers, like a ghost looking to steal, kill, and destroy?
So who are we?
We are sinners—broken by the fall, carrying broken desires, wounded by a broken world.
And yet.
In Christ, we have been made new. Not being made new. Made new. And we are far more like Him than we often dare to believe.
This tension—this duality—is true of all of us. Recognizing it, I believe, is one of the keys to a fruitful life here and now.
It’s also incredibly hard. We will fail again and again on this side of the forever Kingdom.
But the final line of that opening verse is the one that has always encouraged me. In honor of Wade, it’s the line I want to live by this coming year—as a tribute to a friend whose life, like mine, was marked by both light and darkness.
If you're loved by someone, you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it
I’m proud to say that I was someone Wade loved. And that love was just a glimpse of the Father who loves me with all fullness—the Father who created me, redeemed me through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son, and has given me a new identity and the power to live into that identity through His Spirit.
So this year, I’m committing myself to go be who I already am in Christ.
And I invite you to do the same.
