The Afterglow
If I close my eyes I can still feel the humming in my ears, the thrumming of the guitar reverberating through my body, the warmth of the crowd packed around me on a chilly September night. I lay in bed and transport myself back to the evening I stood among 81,000 people swaying back and forth to our favorite songs. We sang in unison in an open-air stadium filled to the brim with cell phone lights, a manmade celestial universe under a black autumn sky.
That night I stayed up later than I had in years, but I never once felt tired. The mood was electrifying, buzzing under my skin as if I’d downed three pots of coffee. It wasn’t until twenty-four hours later I noticed the shoes I’d worn left an oozing blister on my big toe. I’d walked over a mile round trip from my car to the stadium, up and down stairs, through long corridors and I had felt no pain, such was the adrenaline rush. It took my toe over a week to heal, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. That night was so much more than a concert, it was an experience. It’s been sixteen days and I’m still basking in the afterglow.
Have you ever felt this kind of high? That warm, tingly feeling that sticks with you long after the night is over? You were grieved for a bit because you didn’t want the night to end; you wanted to hold on to that feeling for just a while longer. But the afterglow is our bonus. It’s those brief but beautiful moments just after the sun has dipped below the horizon, when the sky is tinted with shades of orange and pink and the darkness of night has yet to take over. The replay of it loops over and over in our heads. It becomes the happy place we retreat to when we’re ushered back to reality.
I’ve been rewatching the videos from the concert on my phone and I’ve been playing music by the artist on repeat. Eventually, I’ll get tired of it. If only I could attend concerts like that every week, then maybe I could create a perpetual afterglow. I wish I could bottle it and keep it forever, but the afterglow will disappear. It always does.
As a Christian, I am familiar with how it works. Growing up we referred to it as a “mountain-top high,” a way to describe that lingering feeling of joy, passion, or conviction you had after time spent in the company of fellow believers at a camp, worship night, or on a mission trip. There was something almost palpable about those experiences, something so exceptional about surrounding yourself with people who shared your love for Jesus. The last day of camp or missions was always bittersweet. I was sad our week was ending but excited to go home and share my renewed faith with the world. I basked in the afterglow for as long as it lasted, but over time the pull of the enemy drew me back in. Without the seclusion of camp or a third-world country, I went back to compromising, back to yielding to temptation, back to neglecting my prayer life and my Bible, until the next opportunity came around and I returned up the mountain in search of the high again. I couldn’t hold on to the afterglow.
Maybe you’ve never felt this kind of afterglow following an experience, but you’ve felt it after being with a special person. Sometimes after spending time in the presence of a treasured friend or mentor I am carried by the warmth of their words for hours or even days on end. Being with them is like watching a sunset, soaking up every second before it’s gone and I must wait until we meet again. I imagine the disciples felt this way with Jesus. His days were numbered and knowing as much they hung on His every word. The disciples could have returned to their regular jobs, their families, and their communities but they chose to stay in His presence. They didn’t want the experience to end. Imagine the grief and discouragement they felt as they watched Jesus die on the cross. The sun had set, and the night took over, but Jesus wasn’t finished.
Returning for an encore performance Jesus rose from the dead. He walked, talked, and ate among the disciples one last time. Later, as He ascended to heaven for His final departure, Jesus lifted His hands and blessed the disciples. “Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God,” (Luke 24:52-53). They basked in the afterglow of Christ’s presence, and unlike the afterglow of a sunset or a concert, this one lingered indefinitely. Over two thousand years have passed and we are still feeling the effects of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.
I can chase that afterglow feeling my whole life by way of concerts, camps, or coffee dates, but the only way I can truly bottle that kind of warmth, energy, and joy is in the continual presence of Jesus. I don’t need to step away from my daily grind to sit at His feet and absorb His light and love. I need only attend church to be surrounded by others who crave His word and need His forgiveness as much as I do. Whenever the afterglow starts to fade, I can simply reopen my Bible, turn on my worship music, or commune with Him in prayer. I don’t need to hold on tight to His voice as if it may slip from my memory at any minute. I can hear Him again anytime I want. Jesus makes Himself available to me every minute of the day. No admission ticket is required. I don’t need to go up the mountain or to another country to be near Him. He is a sun that never sets, an ever-present light, there to fill my cup as often as I need it. I carry Christ with me wherever I am. I can live indefinitely in His afterglow.
Oh, I won't be silent and I won't let go
I will hold on tighter 'til the afterglow
And we'll burn so bright 'til the darkness softly clears
Oh, I will hold on to the afterglow
Oh, I will hold on to the afterglow
Oh, I will hold on to the afterglow
-Ed Sheeran, “Afterglow”