A Light (Or Strand) in the Darkness

On Monday, Carol called for me to come outside and see The Christmas Star, as it’s referred to– Jupiter and Saturn in line with each other, something that won’t happen again for about 800 years (which is about the time that all of the styrofoam trash will breakdown).

I stared up at a speck of a star and tried to contain my excitement. A telescope would have raised my enthusiasm, but Apple has not yet figured out how to put one of those in my iPhone. I mean, to be able to see Saturn’s rings would have been pretty cool, but my progressive eyeglass lens would not enable my vision to make that happen.

The next night the two of us decided to go for a car ride and view the Christmas lights in the neighborhoods around us. Carol had found some kind of email or web site that told where the most awesome displays were and we headed toward one of the street addresses a couple miles away. When we turned onto the drive we were greeted by a long line of cars waiting, as if it was rush hour L.A. traffic. Up ahead (way up ahead) we could see the flashing lights of the front yard production of one of the residents. The lights moved in time with the music that played, as opposed to the cars that moved-not! After a few minutes of staying in the same distant spot we turned around and left. Neighborhood light productions draw ooh’s and aah’s from mesmerized crowds. The two of us, however, were simply searching for some light displays that conveyed peace and hope.

Traveling down a few more streets unclogged with waiting vehicles brought us that sense of contentment. There were simple displays that echoed the hope of the season, and then we returned to our own house where an unimpressive strand of lights goes along the top of our garage and front porch. Believe me, there is not a traffic jam on our street, except for the neighbors a couple of houses down who have too many vehicles and no place to put them but the street.

Our “light experiences” made me think about the birth narratives and also some of the beginning words of the Gospel of John. The birth of Jesus was anything but a production. It was unattended, except for sheltering livestock and distant visitors who made not have been there for a long, long time. No symphony provided background music for the song of angels. Like this week’s Christmas Star, it was unimpressive unless you had a way of seeing what it really was. John testified to its significance: The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:5)

It was a single light in a dark time, a single light that did not command the attention of the crowds. That light, that single light was the most significant light. As John writes, “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.” (John 1:4)

Tonight I think I’ll stand in front of our house, looking at our strand of lights bought at a summer garage sale and give thanks to the Creator for His hand in the simplicity of life and how His peace so often comes to us in the ordinary moments

Explore posts in the same categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Christmas, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth

Tags: ,

You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: