Trust the Night...an old piece rediscovered

The Gospel of John says "Nicodemus came to Jesus by night." And so must we, groping in darkness for the outlines of an unseen presence.
   On the day this was written I had had a CT-Scan at the hospital. This was to satisfy my doctor's concern over a small spot located in the upper regions of my left lung. "It's probably some old scar tissue," he mused. "Probably nothing to worry about." (It wasn't)
    It is dark inside a lung, I presume, and into that darkness the electronic gadget probes, seeking truth. It's beam passes undeterred through my outer wall and into the cave of my inner self.
    That night the inner truth about my left lung was hovering somewhere in cyber-space, waiting for my doctor to look on the web and retrieve it.
     Brother David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk and a favorite spiritual author of mine, says that night is a time for monks to learn to "trust in night". This is because "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." If there were no darkness, how could we perceive the light?
     Does God live in the dark interior of a person's lung? Was God speaking to me through an as-yet-undiagnosed "2mm density" nestled there in the darkness? Brother David believes that God speaks through EVERYTHING, in one way or another. I wondered if God were saying, "Jonathan, I am going remove all your darkness, so that light can fill you up completely? " I thought to my myself, "I wonder if you mean to remove all the parts of me that enclose the dark, like, for instance, my skin and skeleton and things like that. If that is what you propose, I hope you can hold off for awhile, a long while, even." Did I hear God chuckle in the darkness? "Hey, this is not funny!" I exclaimed. "I know you are scared," God hinted, whispered. "Trust the night."
    We follow Nicodemus into the night, seeking Jesus. "You must be born from above," Jesus tells him, and us. New flesh, new bones, new self, new life. We are to become spiritual Neo-Nates, blinded by the light, our outer walls having slipped strangely away.
     "I can do this without having cancer," I pointed out to God. "Thanks for reminding me", God said, and then, once again, "trust the night."