Light in the Darkness

When I worked in Maine last summer, there were a couple instances when I would have to drive back from Skowhegan (the thriving metropolis of 8,589 people an hour and a half away that held the closest hospital and Wal-Mart) late at night.

Let me tell you something about Maine: It gets dark there. Really dark. Because camp was located so far north, the population base was small (again, Skowhegan is a thriving metropolis) and the light pollution was minimal. As I would walk back to my cabin at night, lugging my laundry bag and desperately wishing that I had given up my non-outdoorsy fashion sense and bought a head lamp, it would be so dark that I couldn't see my hands in front of my face. When the stars came out, it was phenomenal. They weren't the only things that came out, though.

Easily the most intimidating part of driving in the dark in Maine is the moose. They're huge. Someone once told me that it's just as dangerous to hit a deer as it is to hit a moose, and I couldn't decide whether to laugh or argue with them (okay, let's be honest: I argued). If a moose decides to get in your path, you're not walking away as the victor.

On those late night spent cruising up highway 201, as I drank my caffeinated beverages and sang along to the songs on my iPod, I was constantly prepared to encounter a moose. While I luckily never saw one directly on the road, there were several instances where I would round a curve and catch a glimpse of antlers in my peripheral sight. At least the adrenaline kept me awake.

I don't think I have ever been so thankful for headlights before in my life. Even that tiny amount of light made the darkness seem much less frightening.

On a similar vein, I love Christmas for all the light that it brings. Travis and I were talking earlier this week about decorations -- he prefers it when houses decorate for Halloween, but I can't help but love Christmas lights. With just a few simple strands and a whole mess of patience, our neighborhoods suddenly seem so much cheerier and bright. So much more welcoming, like maybe, just perhaps, we would find room in our inns. I love the lights on a Christmas tree, the way they can take a few humble branches and turn them into magic.

My favorite Christmas ornament.

I've been thinking a lot about that light this Advent -- so when my church made that the theme of our Christmas service, it made the night that much more impactful for me. It's easy to dwell on the darkness in our world. Perhaps we read the news and focus on the tragedy. Perhaps we look at our lives and think of the loss, the disappointed hope, the dreams that have yet to be fulfilled. Darkness can quickly take over and attempt to diminish the beauty in life.

But light? Light is a powerful thing. It can make photographs go from ordinary to extraordinary. It can make the shadows in a bedroom transform from a creepy monster to a sweater and chair. It makes the intimidating moose in our lives -- the secrets we harbor and the places we flounder -- seem much more manageable. Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 

The light of Christmas is so much more than those strands my family will inevitably tangle together as we put them away in a few days, though. The light of Christmas is Jesus. As John 1 says, "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind." His arrival, to those who were watching, probably seemed a little disappointing -- like someone experiencing a power outage who gets handed a birthday candle with which to see. He was just a little baby, in a dingy little manger. Not the big Messiah they expected. 

And yet that tiny little baby brought light more powerful than the strongest high beams. Jesus brought light that shines not only in the physical darkness, but the spiritual. He can look at the darkest, scariest, most shameful places of my soul and make them new. That gift is even better than anything under my tree. I don't want to forget it.

May we remember this Christmas to give honor and glory to the Word become flesh. May we recognize the light that Christ brings, and may we share it with those around us. Let's drive with our headlights on all the time.