My Salvation

God is defined as light from the very beginning. From the first paragraph of the Bible God calls light into being after creating the heavens and the earth and seeing that they were covered with darkness. Where does the light come from that He called into being? Every light has a source.  When we plug in a lamp and turn it on, the light source is coming from a bulb with an electric filament inside reacting to the flow of electricity. When we light a candle the light source is ignited by heat source reacting to oxygen.  When walk outside in the day time, our world is illuminated by the sun—the flaming source of light and heat for our earth. 

 

But there is always a source of light - an origin shining a particular direction.

 

 As a painter paints on a canvas, the painter is aware of where the source of light is illuminating the subject. The subject is not simply lit from nothing—there is always a source of light. Perhaps sunlight or a light in the room.  The painter is dancing between light and shadows with his/her brushstrokes.  This technique is called chiaroscuro = Light/Dark.

Our eyes have an amazing ability to adjust to the dark. Our pupils dilate and we take in more of the darkness around us.  If we lived in a northern area of the world, we would acclimate to at least six months of darkness a year. We wouldn’t expect to wake up at 8 a.m. to a sunrise.  Dim outdoor light would be normal for us. If the sun was suddenly bright, we would be scared that something usual was happening, and wonder if we are in danger. 

In the same way, the world was spiritually dark since the fall of humankind. It was used to the dark.  We are acclimated to the dark before Christ illumines us spiritually. We don’t even realize that we are actually in the dark.  And we don’t have a light switch to turn on or a known source to go to for light. God showed Himself to the Israelites in the form of light—the burning bush, the fire by night and the clouded light by day.  They saw a dim version of what was to come—the permanent light from heaven illuminating our hearts—not just our paths.

 

Christ enters into the world and is called the True Light.   

A source we could not create.   

A light’s job is simply to light a space. Christ’s light, the light from Heaven, is so big, it lights up the whole world. And it seems directionless—it just lights everything from all directions. He enters the world in the spotlight of a new star hung just for the purpose of illuminating his birth but that pales in comparison to what He illuminated in our hearts. His source of light was unknown to us, until it illuminated our space.

Sometimes light can hurt our eyes and our very senses.  We get mad when our mom turns on the light to wake us up.  Or when we are trying to watch a movie and our sibling interrupts by turning on the light.  Or simply feel rudely awakened by the bathroom light in the morning after we stumble out of bed. When Jesus shows up as the actual source of spiritual light that we have no access to on our own and simply intrudes by shining into our formerly dark space, what reaction do we have? Are we angry, offended, defensive, indifferent?   

 

John concludes this portion of his gospel by saying, 

“We have seen his glory, glory as the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth…from his fullness we have seen grace upon grace.”  

 

What a powerful, gentle, loving, hopeful, refreshing light. Are we suddenly surprised to see beauty and intricacy, to see details and vastness of the path itself? To see the light illuminating others around us and enjoying their beauty? 

 

The Return of the Prodigal

Imagine Jesus' smile when He sees our utter surprise and joy of all the wonders we had never seen before—the grace upon grace of how He has redeemed all those dark broken areas of grief in our lives.  The increased trust in Him that He will continue this work of grace upon grace that we realize we don’t deserve, but that He is lavishing upon us. 

It seems all we can offer in response is gratitude!  We enter the Great Thanksgiving, the Eucharist, every Sunday with this gratitude, practically running to the altar, but awkwardly with a bit of fear and awe, that the source of Light is drawing us to Himself—He who holds the power and all things in His hands, ready to feed us, nourishing us with food familiar to us—His whole glory wrapped up in regular old bread and wine.  O magnum mysterium!

 

This is the Light – that we see Him, the path He is illuminating, and that we enjoy all that He has made for our pleasure and beauty.