Geoff Bullock emailed this story to me this week. It is written by a friend of his - who has travelled through a journey of pain and hurt in his experience involved in worship ministry.

Illumination

You waited in the wings, cradling the heavy spotlight in your hands. You weren’t feeling at home there and wondered what was expected, realising with a knot of fear and ambivalent anticipation that soon they would call your name. Looking down at the dark piece of metal in your hand you wondered if it would work. No one had ever used it before but it had your name on it. It was your only chance to make it. You had decided to give it a go but there were no guarantees that anyone would be impressed – there was a risk they would laugh and turn you away. You so desperately wanted to be part of the show. The others on stage seemed so alive and shone so brightly that it drew you like a moth to a flame.

It all happened so quickly, too quickly to think. You had hardly heard the director’s call when hands and voices were rushing you on, “Go, go, go… it’s you, you’re on now.” Stumbling into the bare brightness, the weight of the spotlight diminished under the pressure of expectation. For a second you panicked as you realised you didn’t know where the switch was located. The heat on your forehead seemed to melt your brow and you struggled to lift the globe higher.

With a loud buzz a stream of incandescence burst from the lifeless globe. You stepped back a little, then steadied it and aimed it vertically, not daring to allow your eyes to follow its path. The crowd gave a collective gasp and then the silence was deafening. It confused and frightened you. You hadn’t expected this reaction at all. Everyone else had been cheered, enthusiastically or otherwise, for various lengths of time before they could bow gracefully, then exit stage left. So you looked up. Just as you glimpsed the illumination, the crowd began their noise. It rolled across the yawning hall like a breaking ocean wave and seemed to go on and on and on. This level of admiration had not been expected but the excitement pleased you.

There was only a moment to appreciate the beauty of the illumination yourself before the hands rushed towards you and wrenched the spotlight out of your grasp. Bewildered you glanced around, unsure what was expected of you now. You tried to step back into the shadows but the hands pushed you forward again. A knot of excited stagehands had carried away your prize, hoisting it high above you, fixing it in prime position to the shadowed bars of steel stretching across the roof. The intensity grew as the crowd continued their deafening applause. The source of their excitement was now turned fully, and unimaginably brightly, on you.

It was your name they were calling. Their eyes were on you, full of admiration, awe and expectation. You wondered what it was that you had done to deserve such honour. It didn’t seem that you had done anything particularly extraordinary. After all, you had only taken what you had been given, stepped on stage with it, and, unbelievably, the thing had worked. There was something about the illumination that intrigued you and you would have liked more time to think about it.

It’s beam was blinding. What to do next? You remembered seeing others on stage making brilliant displays of exuberance that whipped the crowd into ecstatic states and you too had felt stirred by their motivational excellence. So you launched into a perfect rendition of what might be expected, and to your surprise and pleasure the applause continued. The heat from the spotlight intensified, but your energy swelled and you began to think “I think I can really do this… yes, I think I’m really shining.”

Throughout your performance, your mind was screaming a million thoughts and it felt like one of those out-of-body experiences that you’d read about people having when near death. “Is this really me up here?” You imagined a myriad of possible crazy actions that could be inserted into your repertoire that would certainly sabotage it, momentarily entertaining each option. A dread began to creep into your heart and it pounded like a jackhammer out of control. What if they can see it? What if they find out? You realise that if you are faking it, perhaps the others were too. You begin to wonder if anything at all could be real.

The burning glare was real. It affected your vision and threw up dark spheres and rainbow halos everywhere. You shut your eyes but could not escape its accusation. The jackhammer screamed in your head and your skin blistered in the burning brightness. The applause began to dwindle so you redoubled your efforts, managing to maintain the façade but wondering how long you could hold out.

You made some excellent changes to your repertoire and started to think perhaps you belonged here after all. With great pride, you revealed to the crowd your brilliant idea for more and more spotlights and huge light shows in which they could all participate – yes, they could all shine just as you were shining. They looked at each other in stunned amazement. “Of course! We will all shine!” they shouted. The excitement grew and they looked at you with new eyes. You felt the love wash over you and hoped it would drown your fear.

No one could have predicted what happened next. The steady beam that had propelled you into glory became an instant, searing laser of destruction and the pain of it crumpled you into a black oblivion. The crowd’s roar became a distant drone and in slow motion you were aware of their cries of horror, then anger, followed by derisive laughter. They cried in panic as they rushed for the doors. In the darkness they screamed their disgust at your blackened, crumpled form, and hysterically stampeded towards safety outside. Some ran towards you, sweeping you off the stage with great urgency, desperate to cleanse the scene of your glory and preserve their own.

Broken and badly burnt, you landed heavily in an alleyway you never knew existed behind the auditorium. Unmoving, you lay alone for what seemed like an eternity, silently screaming from the depth of your abyss. No one came. The blackness and the stench of rodents and their forgotten meals filled you with terror and nausea but still you were unable to move. A final shout burst through the back door as it opened only long enough for them to hurl your smoking spotlight towards you. It crashed and clattered on the cobbles, thankfully missing your wounded body, and rolled under a rusty dumpster.

Your eyes were mere slits in the swollen mess of your face but you could just make out the black metal of the spotlight lying coldly a few metres away. You hated it and wished you had never found it. Why had your name been on that spotlight? Why that one? Couldn’t you have had a spotlight like everyone else’s? The anger grew and the shame deepened. Any dreams of recovery seemed futile and impossible. It would be better to die. Why couldn’t the laser have done a proper job? You threw another angry glance towards it and screamed, audibly this time, for merciful destruction. Shutting your eyes tightly, you waited. Nothing happened. Sleep overtook you and you drifted into unconsciousness.

When you awoke, it was way past dawn and the sun had risen high and hot in the sky. At first you were confused and struggled to get your bearings but reality crashed in and sank you again to the bottom of the abyss within. The spotlight was still there, lying under the dumpster. You closed your eyes and tried to escape the torture of its presence. Just then an image of the illumination you had seen ever so briefly flashed into your brain. Like a butterfly it was gone before you could fully appreciate its beauty but it stayed long enough to catch your curiosity and fill you with questions. Each time you wondered, your wounds reminded you that there could be no good found in such a pursuit. The shame of them would overtake you with a dark and dangerous hopelessness.

You had gone too far this time. This was nothing that could be lived down. Even if someone forgave you, there was no way of hiding the deforming scars you would now bear for life. Why had this happened to you? Life was just not worth it. Life was just a big joke with a tragic punch line. Well you had been punched out and now you wanted out. You began to imagine ways that you might be able to end it all, drifting into a restless sleep, tortured by accusing dreams.

On the third day, parched with thirst, you dragged yourself painfully to a nearby drain, above which a rusty tap hung promisingly. Managing to turn it on, you gulped desperately at the steady stream as the water splashed over your wounds and down into the slimy drain below. Breathing heavily and exhausted from the effort, you leaned against the cold brick wall and stared warily at the spotlight again. It was the only recognisable thing in the alley. The only thing that belonged to you in this God-forsaken place. You decided that as soon as you were able, you would pick it up and look it over. Perhaps you would throw it away, or maybe it could be useful for something. Scrap metal.

The nights were cold and you cried out in the darkness for comfort. The days were sticky and the heat oppressive but you were thankful for the tap. You had a goal. You had decided you were going to take that spotlight and find an empty field somewhere and shine it one last time before throwing it away forever. Perhaps you would discover exactly why it had been so destructive. Perhaps you would discover if the dreams you had of its flashing beauty were real or fantastic imaginations.

As evening approached, you reached for the source of your downfall and, fighting the urge to smash it into the cobbles again, silently held it and waited for the cover of darkness. The fear rose in your chest but you crept out into the deserted street, limping and struggling alone. This was it. Your life may have come to an end but you were determined to do this one thing.

There was a large empty block a few streets away and it took hours to get there but the closer you got, the less you noticed your pain. In fact, you decided you didn’t even care if anyone saw you. Defiantly you clutched your spotlight and shouted at the black clouds obscuring the stars “No, no, no! You won’t touch me!”

Finally, the moment arrived. Standing in the empty field you held the spotlight high. Your fingers moved around the metal searching for the switch. Without warning, and before you found it, there was a loud buzz as the light exploded into the sky. Your knees buckled and you almost fell as a scream of excitement escaped your lungs. It was working! You steeled yourself and looked upwards.

Silently, and with utter amazement you regarded the illumination. It was infinitely beautiful. The spectrum of colours was unlike anything you had seen before and you realised that the brief glance you had gotten on stage had not been enough. You could look at this forever. Why had they turned it on you? Why had they wanted to look away from something so unique and precious?

All of a sudden, the piece of sky illumined by the beam of your spotlight was not alone. You almost dropped the beam in fright, realising that you were not alone either. But you couldn’t take your eyes off the vision and your fear melted into inexpressible joy as the illumination grew and grew, fed by the beams from a multitude of wounded people. You had never felt so free, never felt so alive. No one took their eyes off the glory in the illuminated sky except to smile in awe, hugging and squealing in excitement, pointing each other to the exceptional reality above.

Silently, and with utter amazement you regarded the illumination. It was infinitely beautiful. The spectrum of colours was unlike anything you had seen before and you realised that the brief glance you had on stage had not been enough. You could look at this forever. Why had they turned it on you? Why had they wanted to look away from something so unique and precious?

All of a sudden, the piece of sky illumined by the beam of your spotlight was not alone. You almost dropped the beam in fright, realising that you were not alone either. But you couldn’t take your eyes off the vision and your fear melted into inexpressible joy as the illumination grew and grew, fed by the beams from a multitude of wounded people. You had never felt so free, never felt so alive. Strangely, a healing energy seemed to flow downwards with increasing and inexorable warmth. No one took their eyes off the glory in the illuminated sky except to smile in awe, hugging and squealing in excitement, pointing each other to the exceptional reality above.

by Gracie

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 20th, 2005 at 4:52 pm by phil and is filed under Geoff Bullock. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.