Most of the time we crave hope. We crave promise. We need to know that things are going to turn out alright. We need to know that wars will cease, marriages will be reconciled, kids will grow out of back talk, illnesses will be healed, and jobs will be found. We need to know there is something more than trial, strife, discord, and anger. There has to be something more.
So often we look around our world and list our concerns—for unethical business men and women, for corrupt politicians, for warn torn countries, for refuges with no place to go, for orphans, for those living with AIDS/HIV, for those with cancer, for those who can’t get education, health care, or even potable water, for victims of abuse and violence. The list can go on and on and on. Our time of prayer begins to weigh on us because of the greatness of the world’s problems. The greatness of our own problems. We need hope. We need something to hold onto so that things don’t become too dark, too bleak, too dismal.
I think most of us have experienced that darkness—depression, isolation, no one to turn to, grief, loss of a job, lack of health care, illness, pain, broken friendships, betrayal, divorce, rejection. In one form or fashion the darkness has threatened to take us over, to consume us. For some it was only a few short hours, for others the long dark night that threatened never to dawn, for others a pain so great it took our breath away, maybe even our will to live.
It’s at those times that we long for some great rescue operation. We need the soldiers of hope to sweep in and take us away. We long for the man in red and blue to fly in and scoop us up and whisk us away to a peaceful serene getaway. Our heart beckons for the knight in shining armor to come and fight the dark lord.
It is in these times of darkness that our heart cries out in the words of the Psalmist and says, “How long O Lord?” And the amazing thing is that God hears our cry. God responds, “not long my child, for I am with you.” God sweeps in to conquer the darkness.
John 12:44-46 says, “Then Jesus cried out, “When a man believes in me, he does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. 45 When he looks at me, he sees the one who sent me. I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”
Jesus Christ is the light. He shines brightly through even the gravest of circumstances. Even when the darkness is over-bearing, his light is ready to illuminate us. And even a little bit of light makes a big difference.
Now, the trouble is that all too often we’re expecting a superhero. We want someone to charge in on a horse or fly in with superhuman strength and set all things right in that instant. And I think, in many ways, that’s what the 1st century Israelites hoped for too—they wanted a Goliath of their own to conquer the Romans and illuminate the promised land. And really, it seems that if God can set the world in motion, and orchestrate ice ages and heat waves, and dream up everything from dinosaurs to dragonflies, certainly God can come up with a good strong leader to set things right, right?!
But that’s not what God did. God’s the type that seems to enjoy catching us off-guard. You’ve got to expect the unexpected with God. Instead of a big strong giant ready to conquer the world, God sends an infant. Rather than a shrewd leader with powerful connections, God sends a humble servant. Instead of a flying man with superhuman strength, God sends someone to hang on a cross. If we’re honest, most of us have to admit that Jesus isn’t exactly the hero we expect. He’s humble, meek and associates with all the wrong people. Compared to the Hulk, he’s not much, heck, if we put him next to our governor, many of us would place our bets on the governor!
And yet, he wins. The meek humble one wins and his light shines through. This humble carpenter conquered death. The blood of this man proves mightier than any dictator, any criminal master-mind, any obsession, any addiction. The strength of the crucified son overpowers any and all darkness.
The catch is, we have to wield this power. Christ did the work of redemption, he fought the battle against evil, he closed the door on death—all of those things are true, but in order for love and compassion, light and hope to take over the ills of this world, we, we must call on the name of the risen Christ, we must renounce our sins, we must ask for the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and we must allow Christ’s light, which shines in us, to break through the darkness. Christ’s power is tremendous, but we have to use it, we have to share it so that the darkness does not persist.
Think of it this way: Imagine the sanctuary were completely dark. Pitch black. And then one candle is lit—it shares light, it casts a shadow, and with its light, we can even begin to see some detail. Now, each of us has a candle of our own, but it remains unlit until we ask Christ to live in us, to shine in our hearts. And when we do, Christ lights our candle and we too begin to share light, to show details. And as more and more people share the light and others invite Christ in, the light grows—we can see more clearly, colors reappear, as color is a reflection of light. For the light to grow, for the light to be strong enough to overcome darkness, we must share it.
I know language of darkness makes some of us uneasy. And to say that there are people living in darkness can be even more uncomfortable. We want God’s power, light, and love to prevail against all. We want to know that God is with all people even in the most profound darkness before they make a commitment to Christ. And, in many ways, God is with those people, through prevenient grace, through God’s incarnate presence in this world. But we also know that the invitation to have Christ live in our lives makes a difference. We are renewed, we are forgiven, we can rest in God’s assurance, we can reach out and care for those in need not because it will benefit us, but because through Christ we are moved to compassionate action. For those of us that are life-long Christians, or even those of us that have been Christians for years—all of those things become obvious and we assume that everyone knows what true forgiveness is, we assume that all people are drawn into compassionate giving, we assume that all people rest easy in the hope and promise of the Triune God. But there are people that do not yet know the light. There are people so burdened with anger, hurt, resentment, and fear that they are overpowered by darkness and have no idea where hope will be. But we know. We know that hope comes through the unlikely infant, born in a stable, who grew up and hung from a cross. We know that we can have hope because Christ conquered death, and conquered darkness. We have the promise that the ills of this world can be overcome. But the problems of our world will not be overcome if we sit idly by. The problems of this world will only be overcome if we call on the name of Christ, act with his love, give generously to those in need, forgive our own enemies, ask for healing of our wounds, and share the light. We must be Christ’s hands and feet in this world. We must be God’s agents who do something to make a difference instead of waiting for someone else to take the initiative. Christ already took the first step, Christ already made these things possible, and we have to use the power bestowed on us through our baptism to go out and shine in this world. May we overcome the darkness. May Christ’s light shine brightly. May the world know that there is hope. May each of us remember, during those times of darkness, that Christ is the light of the world and in him there is no darkness at all, and with him we can eliminate the darkness around us. Amen.
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