I’m taking a sick day.  I hope you’ll put up with a repeat from a couple of years back…

You are the light of the world.  A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven  (Matthew 5:14).

This little light of mine, I’m gonna…

Sorry.

You know, sometimes I don’t want to let my light shine.  It just seems so little, so dull—I can’t imagine anyone glorifying God because of it.

I’m sure you never feel that way.  Just humor me.

I am writing this from atop Zanja Peak, a wannabe mountain a few miles from my home.  It’s 11:00 PM, and I’m in the middle of a night hike.  As I worked my way up here, I remembered something.  Nature gets dark at night.  Really dark.  So dark that if Mandibles of Death, the fluffy yet vicious golden retriever, weren’t with me, I might be a tad trepidatious.

I have a headlamp, and yes I do look silly wearing it.  That’s not the point.  The point is, at home the light looks pretty mild.  Wimpy, really. I sometimes have to double check to make sure it’s on.  Out here, in the ohsovery darkness, it’s a different story.  As I hike along, if I hear something go bump/slither/growl/snarl in the night, I click my trusty headlamp and the world is ablaze with light.  It’s so bright that my night vision is ruined for several minutes, which can be an adventure all its own, but that is also not the point.

This world is pretty dark, spiritually speaking. That little light of yours may not be much to you.  To a lost soul, it may seem like the very glory of God.

Which, in a way, it is.

Shine for him today, Beloved.

Happy Friday.