Like many others, I was very afraid of the dark as a child. Who knew what might be hiding in the shadows, behind the closet door, or underneath the bed? My mother invested in numerous nightlights for us boys over the years.

For many, darkness frightens us because of the unknown. As the saying goes, “Nature abhors a vacuum.” In the absence of information (or light), our imaginations take hold and fill in the blanks — often with terrors infinitely worse than any reality.

Tomorrow is “Good Friday,” the day that we remember the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. Like many other churches, our community will have a “Tenebrae” service. Tenebrae is a Latin word meaning “darkness” or “shadows.” The service consists of an extended reading of the story of Jesus’ arrest, crucifixion, and burial. After each section of the story, a candle is extinguished, meaning that the service closes in darkness.

For me, this is one of the most meaningful services of the year. However, it makes many people uncomfortable. I vividly remember a Good Friday service some years back that ended with the heaviness of death. One well-meaning member struggled to sit in the sadness of the cross and death. Unable to allow it to be the final word, he blurted out, “Well Friday’s here, but Sunday’s coming!”

While he was not wrong, his excitement was premature. In his rush to get to Easter and the resurrection, he hurried past the cross that beckons us to stop, meditate, and pray. In a rush to turn on the light, he betrayed a very real discomfort (maybe even fear) of the shadow.

Psychologist, Carl Jung, spoke eloquently of the Shadow — the part of our personalities that is often repressed or concealed from the world around us. As one psychologist put it, “Our Shadows embody our inner darkness, the things about ourselves we hide, the damage we experience in our lives but never fully heal, desires we cannot satisfy.”

From the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus agonized in prayer, saying, “Father if there be any other way, let this cup pass from me.” From the cross, Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” I cannot help but think that in those moments, Jesus stared into the shadow of evil, death, and the sin of the world, and was momentarily overwhelmed by it. It was not his final word, but it was an honest word.

We, too, must confront our shadow. Whether it comes in the form of sin, doubt, illness, pain, or some other darkness, we cannot run away from it or avoid it. That which we fail to confront, we fail to heal. I encourage you not to run too quickly to Sunday this year. Take time to enter the darkness of Good Friday. As you confront your own shadow, recognize that Christ hung on the cross for our forgiveness and to reconcile us with God, with one another, with creation, and with our true selves.

As an adult, I am no longer terrified of the dark, for I have experienced God there and know that nothing that can separate me from God’s love. May you have the same assurance this Holy Week as well.