Something is not right. As I took my daughter to school this morning at 7:30am, it was dark outside. Then later in the day when driving home after picking her up, I had to turn on the car's headlights again. So that was all the light this November Monday had to offer us - one school-bell book-ended day's worth? Granted, I know Grenoble is not the frozen tundra of northern Finland. I know this because the French do not eat canned decayed fish remains. And because we also get the occasional December sun rays. But really, as we edge our way closer to winter, night creeps in just a little too quickly for my liking. I was explaining to Emma as streetlights illumined our way home, that each year, from June 21st to Dec 20th, it gets darker one minute earlier every day. Then I thought the same could be said for the spiritual atmosphere - the world getting a bit darker day by day, until one day you look around and say, "Is that all the light we've got?" A little too much world, and much too few Christ-followers shining. The problem with that is that an overdose of darkness can cause some to sink into depression or just feel like ordering take-home and hunkering down for a long night. But I hate giving in to darkness.
I instinctively want to turn on all the lights possible, despite high electric bills. And the Green Party. And I love flashlights. Never saw one in the store that didn't appeal to my purchashing instincts. My wife says I can never have too many of them. I also don't like French shutters. Or should I say I don't like them closed. Almost every French house has shutters, a hold-over from the early days in ancient Gaul, where the state would tax citizens on the evidence of wealth that could be seen in their homes. As the king's officers came around for a little looky-see in the windows of the neighborhood, shutters became a sort of medieval tax-evasion. Sure, they make the outside of a French home look quaint and post-card worthy. But when closed, they turn a man's castle into a cave. One of my first jobs in the morning is to open the shutters and let the sunshine in. Ok, actually you already know what one of my first jobs in the morning is. But directly AFTER that is when I open the shutters. I like there to be light. And not just any light, but natural light. The problem with artificial light is, well, it's so... fake. But there's nothing like real, true, bonifide sunshine to illumine a room, light up a smile, or brighten your life.
One great thing about the winter solstice, is that right after it marks the year's darkest day is when the momentum begins to change. Light begins to hold sway, as we are led by increasingly longer-lasting days to early spring sunrises and late summer sunsets. Authentic light. This is what we need more of as our days get increasingly darker. God is going to do His part. He's the father of lights, not shifting shadows, in whom there is no darkness at all. He has already programmed into the seasons of history that bright Day that will illumine every dark word and shadowy deed. A world plunged into darkness will one day be bathed in His light. No matter how dark it gets, He is destined to shine. But in the meantime, how bright am I making it in my corner of this dark planet? We should neither run from nor curse the darkness. Let's break out every flashlight, candle and lantern we have and throw open the shutters, illuminating every home and every neighborhood with as much of His authentic light as we can as the Day approaches.
