What Do We Do With the Light We’ve Been Given?

Matthew 5:14-16

As a camp counselor, I remember how excited campers were that first night to use their new flashlights that they’d just been given for the first time. I also remember having to remind them time and again not to shine their flashlights in one another’s eyes. “Keep your lights on the path, please!” Have you ever taken a flashlight beam to the eyes at night, or had to drive a car into the glare of an oncoming driver who forgot to turn off their high beams? Your pupils contract and you’re left with zero ability to see in the dark while your eyes readjust. Light, if improperly shined, can have the opposite effect of helping people see.

I think we all can relate to what it feels like to have the light of Jesus shined a little too directly into our lives, too. I have been the recipient of such treatment, and I must confess I have likely preached a few “high-beam” messages, too. You’re left feeling guilty, inadequate, judged. Instead of seeing the way forward lit by the soft glow of grace, you’re left blinded by the glint and glare of guilt. Perhaps that’s a part of the fear we face in sharing our faith, we don’t want to offend anyone, we don’t want to pressure them, or overwhelm them, or make them feel judged. What do we do with this light we’ve been given?

There’s a lot of high-beaming in the history of the Christian faith, including, but not limited to: the Crusades, manifest destiny, slavery, and those frightening sidewalk prophets with their “turn-or-burn” signs. This high-beam Christianity can tend to have the opposite effect of making people want to give glory to God. I certainly don’t want to be responsible for that. I don’t want to be associated with that. I want to be associated with you and what you’re doing in the world.

I shared last week about all the beautiful ways I’ve watched the light of God shine through you all year long. And yet what is it that people think about when I tell them I’m a Christian? Do they think about all the clothes or food you’ve donated, all the meals you’ve shared, all the visits you’ve made to friends and family in the hospital? Do they think about the 300 something quarts of Brunswick stew you gave away, or the family whose Christmas tree you helped surround with gifts and love? Do they associate me with that, or do they automatically associate me with the high beam?

I’ve spoken with many friends, and many college students during my time as a campus minister, who had been turned away from Christianity by a light that they felt was way too intense. A lot of these conversations have ended positively, though. I would listen and let them air their grievances against the church or Christianity or religion in general. In many cases, I’d agree with a lot of the things with which they took issue. They were shocked to find someone who called themselves a “Christian pastor” who was so calm, and level-headed, and agreeable. I don’t say this to pat myself on the back, but to suggest that there are people out there who are longing for the gentle light you’ve got to share. The question for followers of Jesus Christ remains the same: what do we do with this light we’ve been given?

“No one puts a lamp under a bushel after lighting it, but rather up high on a lamp stand so that it can give light to all in the house.” An elevated lamp is different from a high beam. An elevated lamp casts gentle light in all directions, a high beam concentrates light in one direction. Concentrated beams of light are created when people concentrate on specific issues or people at the exclusion of others. High beams pick up stones, a lamp stands with the victim and illuminates the circle of accusers, “Let whoever among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.”

High beams only allow us to see part of the picture, and their light is so intense that it blinds us to the periphery. This was the type of light that people were used to in Jesus’ time: being shined by the pious faith of the Pharisees who had turned the law of God from a light to the path into a concentrated beam of rigid legalistic interpretations; being shined by the Roman Empire to illuminate their own sense of grandeur, and to scare any opponents. When Jesus shows up and started shining light into the darkened places of their faith and their empire, I’m not sure people knew quite how to respond. When he then told them that they, collectively, were to be the light of the world, I can imagine them being afraid to shine in ways that had been forbidden by their faith and government. I can also imagine that for those who really got what Jesus was doing, proclaiming good news and setting people free from ways of life that limited their ability to grow in God, they would have been afraid to shine in ways that were too similar to the Pharisees.

We have no idea of knowing how people will respond to us sharing our faith. But we must not allow the fear of being associated with Christianity’s failures keep us from showing people its most beautiful parts, too. In fact, that’s one of the best ways to teach people what grace is all about. We confess that the church has done some pretty sinful things, but those do not overshadow the beautiful love and light of God which shines through all of history—a love and light which we are called to share. It’s a shame some of the things that have been done in the name of God, but you can’t change the past.

What you can do, though, is let your light shine. “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” It’s quite possible for God to use you to reshape someone’s entire appreciation for the light of Christ. I want to be associated with you and what you’re doing in the world because your good works glow with the comfort and warmth of God’s love. I can’t be the only one who feels that way.

We live in a world that thinks you need to shine high beams to get any attention. That’s our mission field: eyes, hearts, and minds blinded by high beams of commercialism, jingoism, partisanship—a world of shouting and shaming. It’s hard to imagine amidst all these bright lights and crisscrossing beams that the kind of light we share has any value. But it’s precisely amidst all these bright lights and crisscrossing beams that the light of Christ is most needed. Many of the people who wander in darkness today do so because they have been blinded by the high beams. They need a safe place where they can rest, a place where their eyes, and hearts, and minds can readjust so that they can glimpse the truth that all of these high beams have overlooked, that they are loved and valued by God; they need a gentle light shining on the path of love that leads them back into the world to help others find this gift. What you provide through your worship together, and through your acts of love and service is a place where eyes, and hearts, and minds can readjust to the love of God, see how that love shines gently on all, and recognize that light shining within themselves, powerful enough to change one life at a time. You are the light of the world.