Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "Light vs. Darkness"

Text: Isaiah 9:1-4

just this morning as I got up,

and groggily shut off the alarm clock,

which was grinning a big red "6:09" at me,

and gloating because I had to get up and it didn’t …

and I felt my way across the room,

being careful not to trip on a dog,

or step on another dog,

or catch my toe on the bed frame,

or stumble over the shoes I always leave lying out …

and I flipped that light switch, and wow!

Suddenly, everything was revealed.

All those hidden hazards were dangers no longer.

I could see exactly where I was,

and where I needed to go.

Now, that’s a perfectly piddling example

of what Isaiah is talking about …

Just one person walking in darkness,

and hardly a great light at all,

just four bulbs, and on a rheostat, at that.

But if a little bit of light like that

can mean the difference between

stumbling over dangers, and avoiding them,

and can illumine for you

the way you need to go …

How much more so

will the light that God brings into the world

do the same sorts of things!

"The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light;

those who lived in a land of deep darkness –

on them has light shined."

That’s us!

Yes, I know Isaiah was talking to our ancestors in the faith …

but now, we are here, we are part of the faith community,

and we are included in his words.

We, now, five years into the third millennium,

have a choice to make, today and every day,

like they had to make in days long ago.

Will we welcome that light, and what it reveals;

or will we hide in fear,

and continue to walk in the concealing darkness?

That might seem a strange question at first.

Why would any of us want to walk in darkness,

and risk tripping over the dog,

or falling into a pit,

or losing our way entirely?

No one wants to do those things.

But what is so seductive about darkness

is that is also hides things we want to keep hidden …

from other people and from ourselves.

Light reveals all kinds of things:

our past … our fears … our pain …

our prejudices … our sins.

The thought of God’s light being shined into our lives

may at first seem more harsh

than we think we can endure.

And yet the alternative,

to remain bumbling around in the darkness,

isn’t exactly attractive, either.

And so, many of us live as close to the boundary as we can.

We seek out the light

for its guidance and assistance …

But if it starts to reveal too much,

we quickly bolt and run

back to the safety of dark.

And it’s not just that that light reveals

things about us, personally,

though that often feels scary enough …

It also shows us the truth about our world,

and asks the implicit question,

what are you going to do about it?

Here, says the light,

let me highlight some things for you.

Here are people starving in the Sudan.

Here is a homeless woman,

sleeping under the bridge at Colorado and I-35.

Here is a child who has been abused.

Here is a prisoner who did not receive a fair trial.

What will you do?

And the very tempting answer is,

I think I’ll turn out the light

and go back to sleep.

If I don’t see it,

I won’t have to think about it,

and worry over it,

and be sad about it.

Oh yes, darkness can be sheltering.

And if enough of us choose the darkness,

we can cozy up together and not even notice

that without the light, it’s a wee tad chilly.

That describes far too many churches, unfortunately.

And yet we know,

and Isaiah reminds us in case we forgot,

that the light is where God is.

That’s not to say that God can’t ever reach us in the darkness …

if that were the case, we might all be lost.

But it is to say that

if we choose to remain in the safe darkness,

we have chosen against God.

Whether for a short period of time,

or as a more-or-less permanent choice.

God is in the light; God is the light.

And God calls us into the light,

whatever it reveals.

One thing for us to keep in mind, however,

as we wrestle with making the choice …

is that, unlike in some religious belief systems,

our Christian faith assures us that,

in the end, light overcomes darkness.

Ultimately, all will be enlightened;

all will be revealed.

Now, that might seem like stacking the deck on God’s part …

exercising undue influence over our choice.

Who wants to pick a loser?

I mean, if you somehow came to know for a sure fact

that the Philadelphia Eagles were going to win the Super Bowl next Sunday,

would you risk betting on the Patriots,

even though you hate to favor any other NFC East team?

If we know God is ultimately going to prevail,

how can we choose darkness,

no matter how comfortable or comforting it is?

It’s not like, for example, Hinduism,

in which you have a god who is a creator

and another god who is a destroyer,

as well as numerous others …

and it’s not at all clear

who will prevail.

We have the assurance that,

no matter what the destruction, and darkness, and evil

we may see around us,

the light of God will prevail.

And we can choose.

We can choose whether we will be participants in receiving the light,

walking in the light,

spreading the light …

or whether we will hide from it,

and place obstacles in its way.

What does it mean to choose the light,

to walk in the light?

How about a story:

An old rabbi once asked his students:

"How is it that you know

when the night has ended and the day has begun?"

And one student said,

"Is it when you can tell a dog from a goat

at a distance of 20 paces?"

"No," says the rabbi.

"Sir," says another student.,

"is it when you can tell an elm tree from a birch

at 50 paces?"

"No," says the rabbi.

"Well then, tell us, please," they said.

"Ah," says the rabbi.

"It is when you can look on the face

of any man or woman,

and see that it is your sister or brother.

If you cannot see this,

it is still night."

We start with one another.

We are each other’s brothers and sisters;

that’s not too hard to see.

But it’s also only the beginning.

The prisoners in cells at Lew Sterrett

are my brothers and sisters,

whether they are guilty or innocent.

The homeless men I met last Monday night,

while helping with the city’s annual census –

Aaron, Freddie, Buford, Patrick, Agostino –

they are my brothers.

The children in Africa dying of AIDS are my children,

and so are those who have been left orphaned.

The Iraqis risking their lives to go vote

are my sisters and brothers …

And, may God have mercy,

so are the guerrilla fighters who are trying to keep them from the polls.

Even though I would almost rather

crawl back into the darkness on my hands and knees

than acknowledge that.

And yet, if we don’t do all that we can

to keep ourselves in the light,

we can never hope to bring that light to anyone else,

or to bring them into the light with us.

We can’t fish others out of the darkness

if we are still there ourselves.

Friends, we have seen a great light.

Though we have all spent time in darkness,

the light has shined on us.

May we walk in that light …

may we bring it to others.

So that, some day, we shall all celebrate

when God declares the final victory.

Amen.

© 2005 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)