John 1:5 "The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
If you don't live in Lincoln, you may not have heard about Ellen Kopetzky. She is a student at Pius X High School, who, a few weeks ago, walked into the ladies' bathroom to be confronted by a girl who stabbed her in the face and hit her over the back of her head. (It has been determined that Ellen was not the target of the attack: it was pretty much random.) It was the most violent school attack that has occurred here in Lincoln for 27 years.
Ellen Kopetzky. For you, a name. Someone you've never met.
For me, a friend. She goes to my church. I was in youth group with her a few years ago. Many nights, we walked home from youth group together, and if there were events that required driving, we sometimes carpooled.
When I hear about things like that in the news, I never think it could happen to people I know. And then it did. The world's darkness can seem remote and almost a little unreal, until that day when it roughly intrudes itself into your life.
Lately, I've become a lot more aware of the darkness of the world. And, honestly, it can be really depressing. Abortion. Abuse. Crime. Human trafficking. Horrible poverty.
My friends, the world is a very dark place. But how, as Christians, do we deal with it? In the face of so much darkness, what can the light do?
I like to think of Christians as candles, in whom the Holy Spirit has lit a flame. Sometimes, though, I feel like God has taken His little candle and set her in the middle of an immense, dark plain. Complete blackness for miles, pressing in unmercifully. Cruel winds. And this little, tiny candle with its fragile flame. And then I cry out, "God, help me! I'm so small, so little, and the darkness is so great." I feel overpowered by the blackness.
The problem is, that's looking at it the wrong way. We're not alone in the darkness: God is there, cupping His hands around our flames and shielding them. If we let Him, He will shine in that flame, so that it pierces through the darkness and stands brave, and warm, and true.
Those who know me well know that I love floating lantern fireworks. (Is that what they're called? I'm not sure. I'm talking about the big bag-like contraptions that you light a light in and they float away, like in the movie Tangled.) We don't set any off because my dad thinks they're dangerous, but I like watching them anyways. :)
On the Fourth of July, I went out on the field behind my house and watched them float, little spots of glowing, flickering light in an immensely black sky. I was over-thinking this the other day, and I realized that fire lanterns are an analogy of the Christian life.
Because when people watch fireworks, nobody is looking at the blackness. Yeah, there's way more of it, but no one cares. They're looking at the light. The darkness does not overcome it, but makes it more beautiful and draws more people to see it.
The darkness may be bigger, but the light is what matters.
Christians are called to be that light in this world upon which the darkness is falling so quickly. In Romans, Paul tells us to "cast of the works of darkness and put on the armor of light." (Romans 13:12b) And once we put on the armor of light, we must take the light into the darkness, bringing it to those who don't know about it, or don't care about it, or who have forgotten.
Yes, there will be darkness. But it will NEVER overcome. That's a promise. In the end, the light will win out. Meanwhile, through the grace of God, we'll shine, bright and brave, beacons of hope in a sea of despair. Let us walk as "...children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom [we] shine as lights in the world." Philippians 2:15
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