Light and Reflection

First things first: there is a mosquito somewhere in my bedroom, and I must seek and destroy it.

Now, down to business. Bear with me; these are just some reflections, and they're bound to be choppy.

This morning we kicked off our college and career Sunday school class. I'm really excited about it because I haven't been in a small group Bible study in... too long.

[Fun fact: I figured out after class that the man that wrote our study book was my parents' preacher in Oneonta, and he gave blood for my brother when Adam was in the hospital... and, I mean, that's kind of awesome.]

We started our series in Matthew:

"[Jesus said] You are the light of the world. A city set on the hill cannot be hidden." (5:14)

Our study guide instructed us to imagine what life would be like if all the lights went out, if the only source of light that could be found on the planet was emitted through Christians. And that's where my head's been at all day. I have imagined the night light in the upstairs hallway that glows faintly and throws longs shadows across the hardwood floor. I thought, too, about the stadium lights in Jordan-Hare. They are bright and almost blinding, and on a dark November Saturday night in Auburn, it's broad daylight on Pat Dye field. And so I've wondered, if I am the light of the world, where do I fall on the spectrum from night light to stadium light? In a darkened world, would I be a beacon of light or would people even notice my glow?

In John 8:12, Jesus says, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." When I read this Scripture, my mind immediately went to all the glow-in-the-dark toys that thrilled me as a child. You could get a glow-in-the-dark bouncy ball in one of the quarter machines at the grocery store, and you just held them up to a light bulb for a minute or so to activate them. Then my friends and I would lock ourselves in a windowless room-- a closet or the bathroom-- and ooh and ahh and bounce away. Keeping in mind our dark world exercise, I am the glow-in-the-dark bouncy ball in this scenario. The strength and duration of my glow are directly correlated to how often I draw near to the Light. So my next question is: if the lights went out, would I glow? Has my light been activated through daily drawing near to the true Light?

I'm borrowing this straight from the guide because it hit me hardest. I don't know if you've seen Schindler's List, but it is haunting and inspiring and heartbreaking...

"Oskar Schindler was a flippant profiteer who was called to save hundreds of Jews during WWII. Then the war ended. As he prepared to leave his hometown and flee those searching for Nazi war criminals, the more than 1,100 lives he had saved were standing to say thank-you and good-bye. His carefree, strong German demeanor disappeared as he gazed on the crowd.

'I could have done more,' he said to his reassuring and affirming Jewish accountant. 'I could have sold my car and saved ten more. I could have melted my (Nazi) metal and saved one more. I wasted so much. You don't know. I could have saved more.'"

If Christians were the only source of light in the world, would the strength (or lack-thereof) of my light leaving me thinking I could have done more? Is there some part of my lifestyle I could tweak that would make my light shine brighter, stronger? Is there something I could do to be a beacon to more, to share the Light with more?

And that's what I'm thinking about this week.