I love this light. You probably have one in your neighborhood too! When I’m walking or driving down a certain street, I can see it from afar. All the other lights have yielded to the morning, but not this one. I once thought that the leaves of the tree in which it had been embedded had shielded it from getting enough natural light to go off, but even when the autumn had robbed the tree of its leaves, the pole still stood like a sentry dutifully holding its lamp in the light of day, so that when evening came, its light met the darkness in a fearless encounter.
You might have one in your neighborhood. Some may think that it was programmed to be that way; or that it could be defective, operating against the norm.
In my neighborhood, I want that light to be me: shining in the morning; shining in the day; shining at night! Like that lamp post, surrounding me in the stuff of this life won’t dim my light; neither will the transparency of my walk. And when darkness comes and all the negativities of this life confront me, my light STILL shines … fearlessly! To the world I might seem defective, but through the Holy Spirit and Yeshua’s atoning work, I have been programmed that way — destined to shine! Destined to be like a city on a hill, a light on a table! A 24/7 lighted street lamp!
If your drive or your walk takes you in my direction, may you see His Light in me … from a distance … and up close, and may you be attracted by it. May you engage in wonder at the consistency of it amid the changing seasons … and then to contemplate its Source!
Yes, every neighborhood has one! May you, too, be that light in yours!
The time for the annual spiritual conference had arrived. My husband and I were at Messiah College in Grantham, PA. From our room, we walked to the evening meeting spot at Brubaker Hall. The warm evening afforded a casual stroll along the lamp-post lit sidewalks. Low flying bugs frenziedly danced and fluttered in front of us. Not trying to avoid our approach, they performed passionately to some unseen audience. Since they were not trying to avoid me, I tried to avoid them. Further up I noticed that some bugs were lying still on the sidewalk. Much later than they did apparently, I realized that the ones swirling in front of me were dancing their final performance before the time ran out of their short-lived existence.