I experienced a tantalizing taste of autumn this weekend, all the more surprising since we are barely into summer. I enjoyed the unexpected respite while vacationing on the Atlantic seaboard. A cool coastal front initiated dipping temperatures and relief from a steady sequence back home in central Texas of near 100-degree readings and high humidity is palpable. The contrast was refreshing. Already I’m daydreaming of sweaters on the golf course, cuddling on the back porch with a lap blanket, and the scent of burning wood from warming fires in nearby chimneys.
Contrast is a good way of understanding Christ’s command to be light. Webster’s defines dark as “having little or no light.” Light illuminates quite simply because it is the opposite of dark; luminescence is not a little different, it is antithetical to shadows. I cannot help but ask if I am a cool front to anyone’s emotional and spiritual drought. Do I leave a pleasant vestige that lingers when people brush up against me? Am I an obvious contrast to the shadowy nature of contemporary culture and that which masquerades in our postmodern world as acceptable? “We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light” (Plato).
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that[a] they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16, ESV)
What some might miss in the familiarity of it all is that Christ’s statement about being light is an imperative. The Greek word lampsato. Illumination for believers is never optional; according to Jesus, our light must shine. In light of this (pun intended) I question myself—does my participation in the human race brighten any corner of the marathon?