So, are you flashing or are you in darkness? Perhaps that could be better worded, but walking up and down the streets the other day, some houses are flashing with more lights than I would like to have to pay the electric bill for, some are more subtly glowing and some are in darkness.

If you are flashing, or gently twinkling, what is the light that shines out in the darkness? Is it a light of hope and peace? Is it a light that cries for justice, for a healing of hurts and conflicts, for reconciliation? Is it a light that brings joy and thankfulness to those who see it? Is it a light that transforms and exudes grace? Is it a light that proclaims good news?

If you are in darkness, what is the darkness? Are you glowing inside and don’t feel the need to put up lights? Do you keep your light inside, but nonetheless it still finds a way of shining out? Are you in darkness because that is how you feel? Christmas can be a dark time for those who are alone, who can’t afford to meet others expectations and pesterings, or have been touched by such deep sadness that the light feels to have gone out.

This year has brought much reason to turn out the lights. Some tears I have shared with some of you, some I don’t know about. Some will have been affected by acts of terrorism, by natural disasters or personal tragedies. I received a letter, one of those Christmas round robins, the other day. We wondered why we hadn’t heard much from these friends last year. It became clear as we read the opening lines that announced the birth of their first child, a son. The third sentence announced his death just 10 weeks later. The intense sorrow, almost defying words to convey, is surely good reason to turn out the lights.

Reminders of the tragic, the desperately sad and the heart wrenching pain of those who grieve can seem a bit party pooperish on a night like this. But they are the darkness that we shine lights into. They are the real darkness that the light shines in and that darkness is not able to overcome it - though it has a very good try.

So we are back to where I began. What kind of light shines out on this night? Santa stop here? Inflatable snow men? Stars and giant Christmas trees? What does it mean to talk of Jesus as the light of the world and for the world? What does it mean to say that the light shines in the darkness when the darkness is so very dark and all enveloping?

Unlike the shepherds, minding their own business on the hillside, we don’t approach Christmas for the first time. We come at the story knowing the end. It is this ending that caused the ancient writer of John’s Gospel to begin with that incredible hymn of praise, which is what the passage we have just read is: an early Christian hymn (John 1:1-14). It is in the light of the experience of who this child became that John and others came to view him as the light.

When we are overwhelmed by darkness, when we are so aware of the perilous and fragile nature of our world, which the Tsunami and Hurricanes brought crashing into our consciousness, we naturally ask what is going on. This is where the Christian story produces its master stroke. It doesn’t come up with neat arguments that try to dissect the heavens and explain the inexplicable. It shows us Jesus, who himself shows us God’s way of responding to our objections and concerns, our fears and the darkness that presses in at these times. The way God responds is with his presence, by being there and by the completeness of the love he displays.

Turning up makes all the difference in the world. We may not understand what is going on but he gives us the clue we need that all is not lost and there is hope. As he does this the light is switched on. The light comes from the way he transforms lives, the way his resurrection gives hope, by the grace and love that he reveals. Death is overcome. His presence in the crib is matched by the empty tomb. The excluded are included. This comes right at the beginning with the scruffy shepherds being the first visitors to worship and adore. It is seen in his choice of disciples and the way he touches untouchables and makes them clean.

For more information we have to do some deep sea diving into the gospels, to immerse ourselves in his story and make it our story. Christmas is not a stand alone festival. It only makes sense when we see its place in the whole gospel. When we do this the magic and sparkle of Christmas outlasts the turkey left-overs.

So the Christmas lights can just be pretty decorations, a bit of sparkle to brighten up dull evenings and get us into a midwinter festival mood. If that is all they are then they are a temporary relief, a distraction from the awfulness of it all, but ultimately leave us where we started. Alternatively, when the light comes from the crib, it becomes something life changing and life enhancing. We have an answer to the darkness itself, or more to the point a hope in which to face that darkness and overcome it.

What struck me about my friends’ letter was not just the deep sadness of their story, which I confess I had to wait until I was in a strong enough mood to read, but the celebratory way they viewed it. They were thankful for their son; that he had come into their lives, all so briefly. They also had a profound hope in which to hold him in their hearts and in which they themselves were being held. The light is clearly shining in the darkness for them. This is the light of Christmas, the true light, which enlightens everyone and comes among us in the Christ child: 2,000 years ago, tonight and always.

© Ian Black 2005

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