The thing about light is that it is somewhat dependent upon the night; the fullness of the glow is most evident in darkness. Yet each night I unplug the lights before headed for bed. For those who pass by our home in the late night and earliest of morning hours, our house is dark. The same is true for the whole neighborhood. We cut short the potential to experience brightness and share the light for any midnight traveler.
I wonder, where is our light when the world is darkest? Do we see these as moments to shine bright or do we withdraw in our own fear or angst or insecurity about our ability to make any difference at all? Do we only light up in the safety of the day, when all is well and light is already in abundance and it risks us nothing? Are we unplugged in the depths of the night?
This year I found a stray mini-tree light we bought years ago. It was missing a pole and no longer stands upright on its own. So I got myself some duct tape, rigged up a makeshift post, and stuck it in the corner of our front porch. This tree may be my new favorite of all our lights. While it is fragile and frail and imperfect and wounded and taped, it still shines in the night and reminds me of what it means to be human, to be Christian, to be bearers of the Light of the World in the darkest of nights.
So I am going to leave the little tree turned on a bit longer tonight. Maybe I will wait to unplug it in the morning.
Read More Here: https://social.adventword.org/wounded-night-throughout-the-night/