The Light of Christ
Katherine M. Bush
2nd year student
Virginia Theological Seminary

Gospel: John 1: 1-18
(This sermon is also available in audio)

God bless us and keep us.
God's face shine upon us and be gracious to us,
God give us light and peace.

Wow. It is so wonderful to be home. Though I'm certainly not used to seeing ya'll from this vantage point, you are indeed a sight for sore eyes. It is so wonderful to be home. Thank you for inviting me back.

Since I've been home, I've been pilgrimaging to various places. That's what seminarians do - we don't just go somewhere, we pilgrimage. Just like we don't make decisions anymore, we discern things . . .
So, I've been visiting all the places that I miss - Huey's, the Rendezvous. And I've also been visiting all the places that have been made new since we left. I had to go see the library, especially because I heard all this hullabaloo about the sidewalk - what could possibly be controversial about a sidewalk? I mean, . . . a sidewalk? And then I saw, and I understood. The sidewalk is beautiful! Amazing!! And, as with many things of beauty - we have to start off arguing about it.

So, I walked around, freezing, and I felt like I needed to touch it. I crouched down on the ground and began tracing all the words with my fingers. And then, my hands found these words,

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us."
The words belong to Nelson Mandela.

"It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us."

Finally, someone helped me understand why John is so very scary to me.

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. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

The light of all people; the light that shines in the darkness; the light the darkness did not overcome.

These words are comforting because of their familiarity. We've heard these before. We know the pattern and the rhythm of this opening poem to John's gospel.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him. And without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

These words are comforting because of their familiarity, but strangely, their import, their meaning, is truly overwhelming - almost frightening.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world did not know him.

I want to think that I would have recognized, seen, understood what was happening, but this version of the Christmas story just blows me away each time I hear it. We've listened over the past few weeks to the stories of Mary and Joseph, to the stories about the shepherds and the magi, and we've embraced the little baby who grew in Mary's womb and was born in a stable. The intimacy of the Christmas story is so inviting and so enchanting. We join with the cows and sheep and tired sojourners and weary, new parents at the side of the manger, and we coo at the little baby. But today, those stories are replaced by a poetic expression of the meaning in all these events. Suddenly a baby in swaddling clothes is replaced by abstract words, and we are forced to confront the intensity of the situation: an intensity that is expressed by John as a light.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world: the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

The light that John is talking about is not the simple light brought about with the flip of a light switch. John is not rambling on about the benefits of candles and light bulbs. He is discussing a light that does much more than reveal to us the shape of furniture and the location of car keys. The light of Christ is not a night-light for our bedrooms. The job of night-light is simply too small a job for Christ. See, the trouble with Christ is that there is not a light controlling timing or brightness. And this light, every present and ever bright, has taken up residence in our world.

The Word, the Light, was made flesh and lived among us.

Literally translated, Christ has pitched a tent in our lives. The light is here, and this light will bring us both challenges and promises. He has pitched a tent: Christ has set up camp and has lit a bonfire. And with the presence of such a light in the world, we are given a reminder of the presence of such a light within each one of us. And that, my friends, is a scary thing.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us."

The light serves as a beacon calling to us from across the desert, from across the centuries. This light will call us to travel down many roads. This call may be to return to the loving presence of God - which we have known and understood at different times in our lives. Or, the call may be to experience a new, transforming love - like nothing we have ever known before. Yet, the same light that calls us and warms us and welcomes us can burn through and reveal our true selves.
And what will be revealed by that light? If I may hazard a guess . . . What will be revealed is no less than the mirror image of that light. After all, we are made in the image of the Creator. We are called to live as the Body of Christ. We have the light within us - a gift and a challenge, a gift and a burden.

The frightening truth of John's poem about the presence of light in the world is that if we accept his message, we are compelled to begin looking for the light. We will look for the light in our relationships, in the vocations and careers we are pursuing. We will look for the light in our churches, in our courts and the halls of government. And ultimately, when we have looked everywhere else, we will look for the light that is within our own hearts and minds.

This is the awe-full message (think about that word - awe-full, full of awe), the awful message of Christ. We are creatures of the light. Christ lived as someone who embraced and accepted the light and the love he was offered. Christ demonstrates the power of living in that light. And the beauty of his life is that he spent his days looking for and pointing out the light in other people: the light that lives in the world. What would it be like if we spent our days and our nights, searching out the light in us and in our fellow travelers?

I'm going to pause for a moment and ask you to make your own quiet contributions to this sermon. I invite you to spend a few moments of silence practicing looking for the light. Where are the sparks? What shines? Who are the beacons? When do you feel bathed in light?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves: Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the Glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Mr. Mandela came to encourage us to seek after the light, to embrace those things creative, life giving, shining.

John came to testify to the light.

Christ came to demonstrate what a life looks like when that life is illuminated from within.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome the light.
Let there be light.
Amen.

Copyright 2002 Katherine Bush

Gospel: John 1:1-18
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

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. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. (John testified to him and cried out, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'") From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known. NRSV

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