from Isaiah 60:1-6
Harry was terrified of the light. It wasn’t the light itself, but rather what if the lamp went out. Harry worked in an old lighthouse, the kind that ran on oil. The great light came from an Argand Lamp. The oil was put in the reservoir at the top, and then it came down through a sleeve to the wick in the glass cylinder. That meant to light it you had to lift up the glass. All the fumes from the oil mixed with the air. When you lit it, “WHOSH,” it came alive with light reflected through the lens and out to sea.
Harry’s job was to keep the light lit. To keep the light lit, you had to refill the reservoir every four to five hours. Harry rarely missed a refill, in fact, he was usually early. He hated relighting the lamp. The whosh always scared him. Harry was scared of the light.
A lot of us are scared of the light. We don’t mind basking in it, feeling the warmth and the comfort. But don’t ask us to reflect it into the world. Don’t ask us to allow the light to shine in the dark places in our lives. Don’t ask us to have the light shine bright enough that we stand out. And many of us are afraid of sharing the light with friends, neighbors, and coworkers.
In our passage from Isaiah, that was the issue with the city of Jerusalem. She had been so long in the darkness that she was now afraid of the light. She had seen good times. Remember back in King David’s and Solomon’s day the city had been a jewel for all Judah. The temple had been built alongside the palace. Trade was booming, everyone was filled with good feelings
She had seen bad times. She had seen times without gold and frankincense. Times that were as dark as they had ever been. Exiled from their land, the temple had been destroyed, and the dynasty of King David had come to a disastrous end.
She had seen ugly times of darkness. It felt as though God’s light no longer shined. Adrift at sea. Alone. I don’t have to tell you, in today’s world, the darkness is real. In the midst of all of this, God commands Jerusalem to reflect his light, his glory, his grace.
God created us to reflect God’s light into the world of darkness. That means we feel the warmth and the comfort of Emmanuel. But that also means we have to “Arise or Get Up and Shine.” It means we have to allow the darkness within our own lives to be found out by the light. It means we have to be brave enough to stand out in our spirituality. It means we shine the light for others.
Harry was terrified of the light. One night during a storm, Harry found himself snuggled so deep in sleep that he slept through the time to refuel the lamp. He awoke with a start to the sound of a ship’s bell. Over the waves, the wind carried it’s clanging sound. As Harry ran up the spiral staircase, he could almost hear the worried yelling of the captain to his men on board the ship. “Find the light! Search the horizon! The shore must be near!”
Harry shook and quivered as he quickly refilled the reservoir. He took the glass cylinder off of the wick. The smell of oil mixed into the air. Harry looked beyond the lens out into the darkness. There was a world of darkness counting on him to share his light. Counting on him to be brave, to have courage. What was it the preacher had told him when he confessed of his fear. “There is a world of darkness out there, arise and shine! You will see and you will be radiant, filled with joy!”
Harry lit the light. Whosh! He carefully put the cylinder back onto the wick. He bravely walked out onto the catwalk from where he could see the light piercing the darkness and reaching out to warn the ship of the shore rocks. In spite of the cold rain and chill of the wind, Harry found himself warm and comforted. The light was shining. The boat was safe.
Arise and Shine is God’s call on us. God shines light upon us all, just as the Star of Bethlehem shined upon all humanity. Bringing together the multitudes, bringing together the diversity that is our nation and people. It would be so easy to bask in the warmth of that light and continue about our business as usual.
The Wisemen did no such thing. They saw the light. They reflected it back into the world through their actions. They couldn’t remain where they were (they had to find the Christ child). The light caused them to worship and the light caused them to share (they brought gifts, offerings, generosity).
Church, it is too easy to be a dim wit Christian or a low watt disciple. When we lay down on the beach of our spirituality and simply absorb all the rays of sunshine God is sending us, we are not fulfilling our calling. God called us to be mirrors: to reflect his love, to reflect his grace, to reflect God’s light to the world in darkness.
For a mirror to do what it’s intended to do… it has to let the light shine on all of it – no dark hiding places. It has to let the light be reflected – it doesn’t keep it for itself. The mirror has to be willing to be a bright spot in a crowd of dark spaces.
For us as Disciples of Jesus Christ, it is very much the same. We have to be willing for the light to shine on our own darkness. We have to be willing to let the light be reflected. We have to be willing to stand out in the crowd. We have to be willing to welcome the multitudes.
We’re called to be like the Wise Men… to see God’s light, to be changed by God’s light (we can’t stay where we are), to worship and share God’s light. Don’t be afraid of the light. “Arise, Shine!” Isaiah says. “God’s light is on you. See it and be radiant!” Amen.
From of Old, All know to come to you –
the poorest of shepherds to the richest of royalty
the wisest of astrologers to the common thief,
but we are afraid because coming to you means letting go.
Long ago you spoke active love into the stale stillness of non-existence,
and we refuse to listen
because to hear that love would shatter our apathy.
We hid in the darkness…
and you said, “Let there be light.”
We drowned ourselves in the chaos of the desert of meaninglessness
and you said, “Let there be land and sea.”
We sowed seeds of division in the garden,
burned the trees of truth and justice,
and slaughtered the lamb as if it were a lion:
and you said, “Let them be fruitful and multiply again and again.”
We denied being your children,
tried to hide our nakedness among the thorn bush,
and blamed you for our problems:
and you sent a child to bring all your children home.
And now New, to know you we come –
the poorest of mechanics to the richest of CEOs
the most studied professors to the dropouts,
and we are not afraid because coming to you means letting go.
–Nathan Decker ©2014 Worship’s Wake