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Light for the Children of God

This lighting of the world that we’re to be part of is not just for the benefit of those living in the darkness. Let your light shine for other sons and daughters of the Father.

The children of God need to know each other. They need to encourage and strengthen those who walk the same path. They need to shine the light when the darkness sometimes seems too heavy.

I’m not talking about sermonizing or judging and condemning and “setting someone straight”. There’s too much of that already. We can never know each other’s hearts and journeys if we’re too busy preaching and judging and being self-righteous.

Instead, we must hold someone’s hand when his path is suddenly dark. Share our own journeys. Tell what God has done in our own lives to save us from darkness.

And then we must also let others know about the joyous victories and miracles. Recount God’s work and wonders. Celebrate together the work of the Spirit in Christ’s church. Share what we have seen of God’s presence on this earth.

I confess, both of these are difficult for me. I’m an introvert. Private. It’s hard to open my mouth and share things that affect me deeply.

Yet at the same time, these are the folks who have been the greatest light for me—those who are willing to talk with me about their own dark times and their times of great light, when they have seen God’s hand in their lives. Those people are beacons, lights set on candlesticks.

We are to be lights in this world, and that includes lights to each other.

Kevin Troyer is hiking the Appalachian Trail with his wife Carolyn and 12-year-old son Dylan. They sold their “stuff” and left another life behind to see where God might lead on a new path. This is from their trail journal, and the imagery has stayed with me for weeks. With Kevin’s permission, I’m sharing it here with you. —

I was reminded on Easter Evening of something I thought I would share with you. I stood on a rock on top of Trey Mountain, watching the dusk and mist roll over the mountains. As I watched, it seemed to me that we were the only humans for the miles and miles that I could see.

Suddenly in the distance out of the mist, a single light appeared, at first just one then another and another. I sat amazed, as what had looked like an isolated forest, became a friendly galaxy of winking lights. There were other humans out there. It reminded me how important it is to let my light shine so that some other lonely soul can see it and know that they are also not alone.

The Father does not intend for his children to feel like “lonely souls” here on this earth.

Yet there are those who sit in our churches every Sunday with a terrible loneliness. May our lights shine for each other, too, so we remember that we are not alone.

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The Troyers’ trail journal can be followed at http://www.trailjournals.com/x3　

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Light for the world, in a clay pot

It’s rainy and gray here today. AGAIN. And, I admit, that is sometimes how I feel spiritually, too. Not at all like a city on a hill that gives light to everyone around me. More like a fragile clay jar, with plenty of cracks.

Look back at that verse in 2 Corinthians 4 once again:

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

It is God’s power that makes us a light, even the light of the world! Any light that shines from me is his light, his alone.

Here’s a most amazing statement: We are being changed into the image of our Lord.

And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.

Read more about this in 2 Corinthians Chapter 3. We who have turned to the Lord have had the veil of unbelief ripped away. Satan no longer has the power to blind us. We are free to see and reflect God’s glory. And the Spirit is making us like him, transforming us into his image.

The Greek word that is translated here as “changed”  means “to change fundamentally and completely from one state to another.”  Wow.  He is changing Me to Him.

Does that change your picture of yourself?

We are not merely disciples of a great teacher, struggling along, trying to do the “right” things, trying (under our own steam) to be “good enough” and be like Jesus.

Change that picture to this: We have been claimed by God and are being transformed by his Spirit within us into the likeness of the Lord we follow.

Yes, these are bold claims, but we’re talking about the power and plan of the Lord of the Universe. He can do whatever he chooses, and He is not restricted by our humanness. He chooses to plant his Spirit within us, to show his power through us, and to shine his light into this world through his children.

Doesn’t that give you goose bumps?

　

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 4:7, 2 Corinthians 3:18 (both NLT)　

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Then, scum. Now, the light of the world.

What was Matthew thinking?

The background stories of many of Jesus’ disciples are sketchy. The Gospels say almost nothing about some of the Twelve. But Matthew’s story is told in Mark 2. He was one of the Jews who worked for Rome, collecting taxes from his own people for the despised Roman government. The Jews looked at such men with scorn and hatred.

One day Jesus saw Matthew at his tax collector’s booth and asked Matthew to be his disciple. Matthew walked away from his job immediately.

Matthew invited Jesus and his disciples to dinner. He also invited lots of his own friends, tax collectors and other disreputable sinners. Mark’s account tells us that there were many people of this kind among Jesus’ followers.

You can picture the scandal. Of course, the Pharisees pounced on this (with great delight, I imagine) and started the talk: Why does he eat with such scum?

Chances are, that wasn’t the only time Matthew heard such comments. Maybe even among Jesus’ followers, there was some whispering, some reluctance to forget that this man had worked against his own people. I’m just guessing. But we all know how difficult it is to be willing to wipe clean the slate of a person when he comes to Jesus. Our Father does it, though, and he’s trying to teach us. Sometimes, we’re very slow learners.

Maybe Matthew himself had trouble forgetting what he once was.

So what do you suppose Matthew was thinking when he heard Jesus say to the disciples,

You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.

I think it’s interesting that only Matthew records this remark from the Master. Maybe his ears picked it up, his heart skipped a beat, and the words echoed in his spirit for a long time.  He heard Jesus say it:  The tax collector, the scum, is going to be part of the light of the world.

I’m only guessing at that, of course, trying to imagine myself in Matthew’s shoes. And we are in his shoes. Jesus’ words were meant for you, too, child of God.

Whew. Do you feel ready to carry out that assignment? Ready to live up to the job description of “Light of the World” ? Or do you think that sounds a wee bit audacious, to think that YOU are the light of the world?

The one you follow, the one you call Lord, has said that you are.

Jesus said he came as the light of the world, so that mankind does not have to walk in darkness. Now he tells his disciples that they are also part of the lighting plan. This would include us, friends. God’s light shines into us, so that it will also shine out of us.

 So how does the scum turn out to be the light of the world?  More, in the next few days.

But for now, think about Christ lighting the world by lighting his candle within you and placing you where light is needed. And many candles, each lit by the Spirit of Christ within, stand together and become a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.　

Scriptures: Mark 2:13-16, Matthew 5:14-15 (both NLT)

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Rattling the Latch

I know why the Psalms are so popular: The writers were just like us. They knew all the ups and downs of faith and trust. They often felt weak and tired and overwhelmed. They lived times of great joy and praise, and they were occasionally swamped with anger and desire for revenge. Sometimes they were certain of God’s love and care, and sometimes they wondered if God had forgotten them. They stumbled and sinned horribly. They were broken and contrite and longed to come back to God.

Psalm 18 is quite a read. It starts out,

I love you, LORD; you are my strength.
The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my Savior;
   my God is my rock, in whom I find protection.
He is my shield, the power that saves me,
   and my place of safety.
I called on the LORD …
   and he saved me from my enemies.

The next sixteen verses give a description of the Lord thundering from heaven to rescue one who was entangled by the cords of death, caught in a deadly trap, overwhelmed by floods of destruction. It’s no wonder the writer starts his psalm by saying the Lord is his strength, his rock, his protection, his shield.

But what about the days YOU feel entangled in the cords of death and overwhelmed by floods? What about the times you long for his strength but you can’t seem to find your way to his fortress and you are completely out of touch with his power? What do you do when it feels as though God is too busy to come charging out of the heavens to aid you?

I am certain of one thing:

You, O LORD, keep my lamp burning;
my God turns my darkness into light.

The only thing to do in such times is rattle the latch.

A friend gave me a Christmas gift, a squat, ceramic lighthouse, blue and white, holding a small candle inside. Hand-painted letters wobbled along the bottom edge proclaiming, “God’s Love Lights Our Way.”

I set it on the sill above the kitchen sink and felt warmed by the brave little flame that danced against dark winter evenings outside the window.

Then one night as I washed dishes, I read those wobbly words and wondered, “What in the world does that mean? It sounds great, but what does it mean?”

Instantly, unexpectedly, I was a five-year-old on a dark night.

We lived in a tiny four-room cottage just below my grandparents’ big farmhouse on the hill. Our sidewalk led to the base of their house, where a door opened into storage space under a long porch; then a second door led to a windowless cellar. From the cellar, we climbed a flight of stairs to Grandma’s kitchen. The front door was on the other side of the house, so going through the cellar was the most direct route to Grandma’s.

The big house was only steps away from ours; but when I traveled the path alone at night, it was a nervous journey through the darkness. I’d take a quick dash down the sidewalk, eluding unknowns waiting to pounce from the shadows, running for the safety of under-the-porch.

Then I’d stop at the threshold of the black cellar. The old planked door had an iron latch, and I stood there and clattered that latch— up-and-down, up-and-down, up-and-down— until an unseen hand above turned on the light that showed me the way to the stairs and Grandma’s safe kitchen.

Yes, God’s love does light my way. Running through this world’s darkness with its truly scary shadows and lurking unknowns, I often stand and clatter the latch, longing to know God’s presence in my life, hungry for His words to me, needing to hear the voice that loves me.

So many times, the only thing I can do is rattle the latch.

And the wonderful thing is … His light comes on.

　

Scripture: Psalm 18:1-3 (NLT), Psalm 18:28 (NIV)

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“Let there be light in the darkness”

Folks in my corner of the world are almost desperate for sunshine these days. For the last month, we’ve had rain and rain and rain. Dark skies and cloud cover. Damp days. Only a few short periods of spring sunshine. Our longing grabs at any small ray of light breaking through the grayness, hoping …

Just wondering … do you ever feel that desperate for the light of God, the light of Jesus shining into your spirit?

For God, who has said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus.

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

The Father shines his light into the hearts of his children, even though we are like unappealing clay pots. He shines his light into our hearts so we can catch a glimpse of His glory. Our Father wants us to know him better.

What a beautiful comparison: Just as in creation God saw the darkness and said, “Let there be light,” so he comes to our hearts and shines his light there, banishing darkness and creating day. And that is only by God’s power; we all know we are helpless to banish the darkness ourselves. 

We might be nothing more than mud, but he brings great glory and power to our lives.

I’d like to know more about this mud pot being filled with the power and glory of God!

I need light this week, Father.

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 4:6-7 (NLT)