devotional post # 2070

Luke 22:47-53

Luk 22:47 While he was still talking, notice a crowd coming up, and the man called Judas, one of the twelve, coming before them. He drew near to Jesus to kiss him,
Luk 22:48 but Jesus said to him, “Judas, would you hand over the Son of Man by kissing him with a kiss?”
Luk 22:49 And when those who were around him saw what would follow, they said, “Lord, should we strike with the sword?”
Luk 22:50 And one of them struck the servant of the high priest and took off his right ear.
Luk 22:51 But Jesus said, “No more of this!” And he touched his ear and healed him.
Luk 22:52 Then Jesus said to the chief priests and captains of the temple and elders, who had come out against him, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs?
Luk 22:53 When I was with you day after day in the temple, you did not try to arrest me. But this is your hour, and darkness has the right.”

when darkness has the right

Some days I pray that God’s protection and provision will surround my whole life like a shield—and I truly believe He delights to give that. But I also know, from Scripture and from experience, that there will be days when everything feels upside down, when it seems as though all the rules have been rewritten without warning. Days when friends misunderstand me or even turn against me. Days when enemies seem to have permission to mistreat me, to speak against me, or to wound me in ways that feel deeply unfair. Days when darkness seems to have been handed the right to press in close.

Those moments feel surreal, almost dreamlike—like stepping into a world where nothing behaves as it should. And when I’m in that kind of moment, my first instinct is often to cry out against the injustice of it. Scripture gives me permission to do that. The psalms are full of cries that say, “Lord, this is wrong. This hurts. This should not be happening.” God never rebukes His people for bringing their pain to Him honestly.

But alongside that cry, I also need the deeper truth that Jesus Himself spoke on the night of His arrest: “This is your hour, and the power of darkness.” Even that moment—when evil seemed to triumph—was under God’s authority. Darkness was not in control. It was only borrowing time. It had permission, but only for an hour. Its power was real, but temporary. Its reach was frightening, but limited.

That perspective steadies me. It reminds me that no matter how chaotic my situation feels, God has not surrendered His sovereignty. He has not stepped aside. He has not lost track of me. If darkness seems to have the right to oppress me, it is only because God has allowed it for a moment—and only for purposes that will ultimately serve His glory and my good. The hour of darkness is never the final word. Dawn always follows.

So when those strange, heavy days come, I want to remember both truths: I can cry out honestly, and I can trust deeply. I can lament the injustice, and I can rest in the certainty that God is still in control. The darkness may press in, but it cannot stay.

LORD, give us the strength to endure the tough times, and keep our faith in You.