Those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has come to shine. Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near. Let us pray. Father in heaven, you sent your son Jesus as a light for the world, and He has called us to be bearers of that light in our own lives. We cannot create light in ourselves: shine in us. BE the light in us, a light for dark times and dark places. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
In J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic The Lord of the Rings, a few chapters take place in the land of Moria, where dwarves hollowed out an entire mountainside in search of mithril, a light, flexible metal that was stronger than steel. During their time in Moria, the group of travelers is led by Gandalf the wizard, who lights a stone at the top of his staff to provide light in the darkness. Other than that light, all is pitch black as the fellowship of the ring travels three days underneath the mountains. We like to think that life is like this, that good and evil are polar oppsites, that the darkness of which Isaiah speaks is as easily identified as the villain in an old western (the black hat, of course). Truth is, though, it’s not that simple. The darkness that threatens us can be much, much harder to see. In movie terms, I think real life is far more like the movie Thirteen, where the light slowly seeps out of the picture until everything is grey and you can’t tell good from evil anymore. That’s more like the darkness I know. That’s more like the darkness I fear. I think of it in terms like The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis, where everyone lives in the grey town and nothing has any substance, reality or vitality to it.
Specifically, I fear this darkness of a grey life because I know how easily it can swallow us whole. The battle we fight against it is never-ending and all-encompassing. It takes us in many ways: a gradual de-valuation of the dignity of human life, a refusal to allow any difference of opinion within our government or our society, celebrity worship and a lust for living vicariously through people selling their lives on reality television – all of this, I fear, is creating a world of greyness filled with emotional and spiritual cannibalism. I think this is what causes drug abuse and a host of other problems: we’ve allowed our lives to become emotionally and spiritually empty, and it’s easier to fill them with booze or drugs or sex than it is to fill them with faith, love and service.
I’ve got some personal fears, too. I’m afraid that 10 or 20 years from now I will look back and realize I haven’t been faithful to my calling as a pastor. I’m afraid that I will call attention to myself instead of Christ, that I might become a seller of religious services instead of a servant who listens and invites others to follow Jesus. I’m afraid that I might be missing the point right now.
What’s your darkness? What are your fears? Maybe you’re afraid of disappointing your parents? Maybe you fear the consequences of working to hard to please your parents. Maybe your job is unstable or your career field is shrinking. Maybe you’ve worried about a relationship, or whether you’ll ever have a relationship again. Whatever your fear is, that’s is the land of deep darkness, and whether it’s grey or black, it’s there and it’s real and you know it.
“ The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” This is the promise that’s come for us today: Jesus Christ is the light in the darkness, for people in all times and places. He is a light that comes at unexpected times and in unexpected ways, but He comes, friends – have no fear. In our gospel reading today, we read how Jesus came to Peter and Andrew. Peter and Andrew weren’t seeking a teacher – they weren’t on a spiritual pilgrimage – they weren’t looking for a new vision for life – they were at work and Jesus interrupted them. In the midst of a day like any other, Jesus intruded and brought light into their world.
Think of how Peter and Andrew were fishing, and think of it in terms of what Jesus did. Peter and Andrew weren’t fly-fishing or lure-fishing: they were fishing with nets, not lines. Net-fishing involves casting a wide net into the sea, grabbing everything you can and sweeping it out of the ocean into the boat. There’s no bait involved, no lures, no twists of feathers and string to dance and invite fish out of the water into the boat – net-fishing intrudes like light intrudes into darkness. Jesus will not coerce us into the kingdom of heaven, either: he comes like a slap to the head or a net sweeping you out of the sea: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!”
In The Great Divorce, a bus comes to the grey town for the people who live there, and they are taken to a place of vibrant colors and intense reality. It is so intense, in fact, that it is painful: the blades of grass are so real that they actually cut the feet of those who live in the grey town. But friends they have known come to them and say that this is a good place, that life is good with such colors and intensity, once you learn how to live in it. As Lewis writes, “Reality is harsh to the feet of shadows.” In the same way, when Jesus comes to us it might be painful and harsh at first. The good news is that when Jesus claims us, He claims us as we are, in our present darkness, whatever shade of grey that darkness may take – but He loves us too much to leave us in our shades of grey. We will be changed, transformed into something new, something vibrant, something more real than we had been before. We will become those who fish for others – transformed through the power of the Holy Spirit into children of the light.
The light of Christ comes for two reasons: to claim us as its own and to transform us into those who fish for others. This is why the church exists, the two core values of the body of Christ. If being transformed and seeking others for transformation aren’t happening for us, then nothing else will matter – we will become a grey church, whistling in the darkness that surrounds us. God has promised a light in the darkness, and God will not have that promise broken by anything, real or imagined, of the devil or of our own sin, death and destruction.
We are children of light, but not because we love the light: we sometimes prefer the darkness, where our sin and evil can remain hidden. We are children of light, but not because we choose the light: we sometimes choose darkness so that our sin may remain concealed. We are children of light, but not because we deserve the light: we deserve our darkness, because we have loved it and chosen it so often. We are children of light because Jesus is the bringer of light, even when the darkness threatens to kill and destroy that light.
In the gospel of John, we hear that Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The message of cross, the moment of God’s greatest glory and the most brilliant embodiment of Jesus’ love for us, seems foolish and weak and a scandal to the powers of darkness that threaten us. But to us, who need that light, who cling to the light because it is our only hope, our greatest need, our fairest vision, the cross becomes the very power of God, the light of Christ shining into the darkness to claim us again and again as its own. In our lives, the darkness may appear to win at times. Our fears may overwhelm us. Death will circle us like a lion stalking its prey. Marriages will flounder, careers will end, life will become grey and meaningless and troublesome. But into this darkness Christ will come and offer a simple invitation: “Follow me.” And thus light will shine. For we who live in a land of deep darkness – on us, light has shone, is shining and will shine again. In Jesus Christ, the light and vision of our faith, the kingdom of heaven is coming near. Repent, friends, turn away from your darkness, and follow the light. Amen.
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