Reminded by the Light

How turning on a light can remind us of eternal truth

Photo by Richard Stachmann on Unsplash

It's a good time of year to write about light. I’ve just clicked my bedside lamp on, instantly softening the room with a comforting yellow glow. Dusk is approaching, meaning the light from outside has a dull tinge, muting the remaining autumn colours on the trees. I love this time of year. It becomes more socially acceptable to retreat, to nest a little and nurture a quieter pace of life. All things intrinsic to my love language. 

In this darkening season opportunities abound to create and gather around light. Gazing into the warm wild flames of an outdoor fire on bonfire night, the soothing early evening ritual of lighting candles along the mantelpiece. 

These sources of light provide daily reminders of one vital spiritual truth; light overcomes the darkness. Every time. The sun rising ( however overcast the day may be), the moon glowing peacefully at night, candles burning down to the wick and house lamps in cosy reading corners. Streetlights illuminating dark dusty streets, car headlights beaming, and floodlights over sporting events. 

Each day echoes the reminder that we need the light, that though darkness persists it must retreat in the presence of light. 

‘In him was life, and that life was the light of men. That light shines in the darkness, and yet the darkness did not overcome it.’ ( John 1: 4-5 CSB) 

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We find respite when darkness falls and the lights come on. I know how discombobulating (love that word!) it feels during power failures, when electricity stops working and darkness descends into a room. The strangeness of sitting comfortably at home one moment…then suddenly all is silent and dark without warning. My first thought is never ‘oh well, I think I’ll just sit here and enjoy the darkness’ — no, my reaction is usually mild panic and frantic searching for a source of light. I feel sheer relief when power is restored, vowing to express more gratitude for the daily provision of electricity in the future. There is something inherently wrong about dwelling in darkness. 

‘This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light, and there is absolutely no darkness in him.’ (1 John 1:5 CSB)

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The distinction between light and darkness plays out in creation through the seasonal changes. A separation between these entities is established in the first chapter of Genesis. God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. Works of good or evil are defined by being executed in the light or under cover of darkness. This distinction is meaningful. It is supposed to make us think.

My daughter makes me laugh on school mornings. When I turn the main light on in her room (bright and early!) she flinches every time. Eyes squinting, she instinctively pulls the quilt covers around her creating a warm, dark cocoon. In that moment, the darkness is safe and reassuring to her.

Sudden light after a period of darkness is not always welcome. We don’t feel prepared. Like turning the bright lights on at the end of a party, everyone stands looking slightly stunned.  The dancing has finished, a transition is taking place. What was once bathed in soft lighting (masking imperfections) is now exposed and looks…haphazard, messy, tired. In the entertainment world, lighting is often described as ‘harsh’, it is direct, creating sharp contrasts and shadows. Harsh light is rarely flattering.

The light of Christ may shine too harshly for some of us— too bright, too revealing, too convicting (John 3:19). But we need not shy away from this apparent harshness. The One who is light comes bearing good gifts, if we are willing to receive them. 

‘Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.’ (James 1:17 CSB) 

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Photo by Paolo Nicolello on Unsplash

‘Clear before us through the darkness

gleams and burns the guiding light; 

clasping hands with one another,

stepping fearless through the night.

One the light of God’s own presence 

o’er his ransomed people shed,

chasing far the gloom and terror,

brightening all the path we tread….

One the gladness of rejoicing

on the far eternal shore,

where the one almighty Father

reigns in love forevermore. 

B. S. Ingemann (1789-1862) 

As this beloved Autumn season continues, I’ll be lighting candles, curling up in cosy lamp lit corners, and reminding myself of the light that Christ brings. Light overcomes the darkness, and prevails every time.