Let There Be Light

​I was driving home from the mountains last night. As I was driving, I saw a house wrapped in Christmas lights on a distant hill. Lights that lit up that entire hill.

Those lights were a light to me from a great distance.

I am always deeply moved by the opening words of the bible. The words that say:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

I will confess, and if you follow me you already know this, there have been great periods of my life that have felt like that earliest earth - formless and empty, darkness hovering over the deepest parts of me.

A distant God hovering.

Somewhere?

But then the bible tells us: And God said, "Let there be light."

From the beginning, that has been one of the most beautiful things I have come to love about my God, his knowing just how much I need light in my life. From those first spoken words from my God, let there be light, has come the promise of a sunrise each and every day for thousands of years since.

God's forever promise, there will be light. A God no longer hovering, but entering. 

​My darkness. 

And as it began to appear that God's original declaration for light would not be enough, the prophets foretold of an even greater light.

Isaiah in predicting the birth of the coming Jesus said:

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.”

Long before it came, Isaiah was telling us that light WOULD come. As if echoing God's first words, let there be light.

And then that light, as predicted, it came. And that light himself, the sweet baby Jesus, would tell us:

“I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”

As if that baby in a manger, Jesus, would know me, would know and somehow feel my deepest and not so infrequent fear that I I am forever trapped in darkness.

Let there be light.

On our way to Bethlehem, as we see our Christmas lights along the way, it is helpful to see in them LIGHT.

Not just light, but THE light.

The light that was spoken into the world.

The light that was predicted as healing for the darkness that haunts each of us from time to time.

The light that DID come, a baby in a manger, to fulfill that prediction, to fulfill our deepest longings.

And then there is this. Maybe the most important part of this as we reflect on those lights up on that faraway hill. That baby in a manger would go on to tell us, commanded us:

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

God created light.

The prophets predicted an even greater light.

That greater light arrived; a baby in a manger.

And before that light left this earth, that light lit the lamps we were all holding and that we carry to this day.

The question is, as we stare at those lights wrapped around that house on a distant hill, do we put our light under a bowl, or on a stand, where we can all declare over the deepest darkness that lives in way too many of us the Christmas season:

Let there be light.

On the way to Bethlehem, enjoy the lights. They are magical. They are festive and celebrative. But they also hold much deeper meaning if we will allow ourselves to look for it.

Let there be light.

Christmas arrives. Christmas commands.