John 1:1-18
December
28, 2025
I
know what it means to be afraid of the dark because I was afraid of it when I
was a little girl. I didn’t worry too much about the possibility of monsters
under my bed, but I was convinced that horrible creatures lurked in my closet. The
closet in my room was a long one, and along with my clothes it held my play
kitchen and many of my books and other toys. During the day, I loved playing in
that closet. At night it was a different story. When darkness fell anything
that “went bump in the night” did their bumping in my closet. When the lights
of our house went out at night, my closet, which was a wonderful refuge of play
and imagination during the day, became the scariest place in my home.
I had a couple of different methods
for dealing with my fears. The first, and perhaps most obvious, was that before
I went to sleep, I would turn the closet light on. I would keep the door
closed, but the door had slats in it, so the light would shine through the
slats. If any monsters thought about roaming out of the closet during the
night, the light would keep them at bay. For another level of protection, I
also used to line up my favorite stuffed animals on either side of me in bed. I
was certain that they would protect me while I slept, so if any of the terrible
monsters in my closet managed to slip past the light, I would be safe.
I eventually
grew out of my fear of the dark, but I received a vivid reminder of what it
means to carry that fear when I spent the summer of 2006 working as the program
director for my dear friend, Chris, at the camp she ran in rural Michigan. The
mission of the camp was to provide a positive camping experience for people,
children and adults, with special needs and children from lower income and disadvantaged
homes and neighborhoods, especially in the Detroit area. In our orientation
with the other staff members, Chris reminded us that many of the kids who
attended that camp had never experienced full blown darkness. In their urban
environment, there was never an absence of light. And night at the camp was dark.
That meant that kids, even older high school youth, would be afraid of the
dark. We needed to be sensitive to their fears. That wasn’t hard for me because
it reminded me of my own childhood fears. I knew what it was to be afraid of
the dark.
I suspect that I’m not the only one
who was once afraid of the dark, but I also think that most of us adults would
describe fear of darkness as something that only afflicts children. Yet even though
we may not think we are afraid of the dark, we live as though we are. I admit
to making use of nightlights throughout our home. I keep one in each bathroom
in case someone must get up in the night. And we keep the front porch light on
because it deters unwanted visitors while we sleep.
But
even if I didn’t employ nightlights in our house, I think there would be plenty
of light coming from outside. There are streetlights, and the neighbors around
us also have lights on. There are the lights that come from greater Columbia.
We live about two and a half seconds from Maury Regional and there are plenty
of lights there. Even if Columbia is not a major urban metropolis, there is
still a significant amount of artificial light, so dark is not that dark.
But
what does all this light do to us? There is a growing body of scientific
evidence that considers the large amount of artificial light we produce to be
light pollution. And light pollution has negative consequences on the natural
world.
One
creature that is affected by light pollution is the sea turtle. The sea turtle already
has the odds stacked against it, but it is struggling because of light
pollution. Female sea turtles return to the same beaches year after year to lay
their eggs. Human development on those beaches is encroaching on their habitat.
But the developments are not the only problem. The light from those developments
disorients the turtles. As they’re swimming in from the sea, they use the dark
shape of the beach to guide them. The lights confuse them and they have a hard
time going from the sea to land to lay their eggs. We might think that more
would help them find their way. But the natural world does not work like that.
Too
much artificial light also affects and disorients the baby sea turtles trying
to swim back out to sea. All the lights we humans use are messing with the sea
turtles. Maybe that seems like a relatively small blip in the greater scheme of
things, but the reality is that light pollution is affecting a wide variety of
creatures, and that includes us.
An
earthquake struck the Los Angeles area in the mid 1990’s, knocking out the
power grid that keeps greater LA bathed in light. Once the darkness had
settled, people began calling emergency services, afraid, because of a strange
glow in the night sky.
It
was the Milky Way.
Many
people had never witnessed that before because the artificial lights of Los
Angeles kept the heavens from being viewed. And what’s more, scientists believe
that 80 to 90 percent of people in major cities have lost their ability to see
the Milky Way. It’s not just that our
lights block it from us. We can no longer see it.
We
have surrounded ourselves with light, but we can no longer see.
“There
was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify
to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the
light, but he came to testify to the light.”
Into
the darkness came John. He was not the Light, but he testified to the Light. He
pointed to the Light. He knew that the Light of the world was upon the people,
but could they see it?
We
read this story about John the Baptist differently in different contexts. In a
couple of weeks, we will encounter him as he baptizes Jesus. In Advent, John
appears as the one who is calling us to make ready, to prepare. But today we see
John the Witness; we see the John who testified to the Light. The Light is here;
it is shining on us. Do we see it? Karoline
Lewis of WorkingPreacher.org wrote that this is a cosmic event. God is
reordering the world and all creation. But we need a human to point the way.
That human is John. He testifies to the Light because the people walk in
darkness. What does it mean to walk in darkness?
Obviously
the people who lived at the time of Jesus lived in more literal darkness than
we do. I’m sure they had no problem seeing the Milky Way, because there was no
abundance of artificial light to block it. They would have had the light of
fire and oil lamps, but they would not have had the great lights that project
into our own night sky.
But
the literal meaning of darkness only touches the surface. The darkness went to
their very soul. Their world was ordered by the Law, but it was a dark world
because they could not see how God was working in their midst. Oh sure, they
had the words of the prophets and their ancestors in the faith. They waited for
the promised Messiah. They prayed and sacrificed and did what they thought God
wanted them to do. Yet the darkness was pervasive.
The
people who walk in darkness have seen a great Light. John came to testify to
the Light. We have so much light, perhaps too much light that it is challenging
to recognize how these words might speak to us. With so much light all around
us, how can we possibly walk in darkness? Yet the darkness is pervasive.
So
what darkness do we walk in? Is the darkness our fears? Is it our lostness? Is
it our brokenness? Is it our loneliness? Is it our ability to forget that just
by being human we have inextricable bonds with every other human being? Is it
our willingness to put ourselves above God? Is it our knack for thinking we
need only ourselves? Is it that we try to replace the Light with a capital L
with all the other smaller, lowercase lights out there?
The darkness is pervasive, but the
good news of the gospel is that Jesus is the Light of the World. On Christmas
Eve, we remembered that what we celebrate in this season of the year is not
just that that a child was born over two thousand years ago but the promise of
God, and the steadfastness of God in keeping that promise. As we remember the
birth of the Christ Child, we also remember the promise of God to be with us, really
with us, to not leave us alone in the darkness of our own making, to give us
and the whole world the Light that is Life.
In Eugene Peterson’s translation of
the Bible, The Message, Peterson translates verse 14 this way,
“The Word was made flesh and blood
and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the
one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, generous inside and out, true from
start to finish.”
The Word was made flesh and blood and
moved into the neighborhood. That is God with us, walking and working and
living beside us. That is the Light that has come into the world. That is the
Light that is true light and true life and true love.
The
true Light of the world is in the world, and we are witnesses just as John was.
He testified to the Light, and now it is our turn, our time, our call. May we
testify to the Light through our words. May we testify to the Light through our
living. May we testify to the Light through our love. The Light is here. The
Light of the world is shining. Testify!
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!”
Amen.
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