Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "Loving the Light"

Text: John 3:14-21

Tell the truth, now …

don’t we sometimes really like the darkness?

Not just literal darkness,

although it is nice to fall asleep in a really darkened room,

And it’s nice to leave the lights dimmed a little bit

so that your guests can’t see the cobwebs up in the corners …

Sometimes even figurative darkness

feels pretty good.

Who among us doesn’t have certain things, or certain people,

that we would like to hide from on a regular basis?

Darkness is a good place to do that.

Who among us doesn’t have something in our past,

or even in our present,

that we profoundly hope stays hidden?

Darkness is an immense help at hiding our sins.

Who among us doesn’t find that there are certain people,

or certain kinds of people,

or certain things that certain people do,

that we really despise and have no desire to forgive or to love?

Darkness is a great place to keep and to nurture those feelings.

Even those of us who are believers,

and who very much want to be followers of the Light of the World,

have those moments in which

we love darkness rather than light;

and in which we hide from the light,

so that our deeds may not be exposed.

How do we learn –

is it even possible to learn –

to love the light?

Let’s start with the easy part:

Set aside for a few minutes

all those things about ourselves that we would like to keep in darkness.

Think first, instead, about things about yourself

that you would like to have brought into the light.

When you are given recognition, or an award,

for volunteer hours you have spent quietly doing good,

isn’t it a little bit fun to have the light shined on you in that moment?

Okay, a little embarrassing, too,

but isn’t it kind of nice to soak up the light, at least for a few moments?

When you receive a promotion or a raise at work,

and your boss says something affirming about the work you’ve done,

and what you contribute to the business,

isn’t that brief moment in the spotlight nice?

When your kids, years later of course,

happen to mention what a good job you did as a parent,

don’t you just love the warmth and light of that acknowledgment?

Light is good,

when it highlights the things we have done well,

when it spotlights the times we have worked hard, and succeeded.

The light of the world feels welcome,

when it draws attention to good things –

whether we did them, or someone else did them –

when it rehearses for us news that is good rather than bad;

when it illuminates for us signs of hope.

Isn’t that what we mean when we wish aloud

that the newspaper and TV carried more stories of good news?

Yes, we probably do need to hear about strangers abducting children,

but can’t we also hear about a stranger who helped a lost child

find her way home again?

We may well need to hear about corruption and/or stupidity in city hall,

but could we also hear some stories about

good things done by elected officials and city bureaucrats?

We like it when the light shines on things that are good.

It encourages us.

Sometimes, it’s a reward for us.

In such cases, we love the light.

We come to the light.

Deeds that "have been done in God"

should be affirmed, should be welcomed, should be imitated.

Let’s hear it for even more light on such actions!

Okay, let’s continue with the almost-as-easy part:

We talk about Jesus as being the light of the world …

and he is not difficult to love … at least, most of the time.

Oh, sometimes he rubs us the wrong way.

Sometimes he demands of us more than we are ready to give, yet.

Sometimes he gets angry and we don’t really understand why.

But we see and we hear all of that

in the context of the whole story of his – of God’s –

incredible love for us.

In a very real sense, the scripture is dead-on accurate when it says that

we love, because he first loved us.

Jesus may be hard to understand sometimes.

He may be hard to follow.

But he’s not particularly hard to love.

And yet, he brings light into the world

that exposes evil deeds …

whether they were done by someone else,

or by us individually, or by us corporately.

Don’t we wish, at some level,

that Jesus would shine a harsh light on other people’s evil deeds,

but leave ours alone in the darkness?

Highlight the illegal immigrants crossing the border,

but hide in the shadows our own economic policies

that have cost them their land and/or jobs?

Highlight the Catholic priests who have molested young boys,

but sweep under the rug the number of Presbyterian clergy (men)

who have molested young girls,

and been quietly moved to another congregation?

Howl and rage about Iran, or North Korea, for wanting nuclear weapons,

while trying to keep in the dark

the thousands that we already have?

Isn’t there a parable about

seeing the specks in other people’s eyes,

while somehow missing the log in our own?

How do we learn to love the light,

when it exposes not only our enemies’ evil,

but the evil that is within us?

How do we love a light that shines

not only on the good we have done,

but also on the bad we have managed along the way?

It seems entirely more logical

to run and hide from such a light.

How do we learn to come to the light,

even though it means that all our deeds will be exposed?

Part of the challenge we face, I think,

is that we fear that God will be as judgmental and unforgiving

as we humans tend to be.

How could we possibly, willingly, let God see what we’ve been up to,

knowing what we know about God being just,

and having laws, and rules, and all that?

We know that we ourselves can be pretty unforgiving at times,

at least of certain people, and/or certain particular sins …

and so we expect pretty much the same from God.

It seems to me that the only way we can really learn to love the light

and to lose our fear of it,

is to experience it from one another.

To find our way into a community of faith where

we learn that it is safe to bring our deeds into the light,

even the ones that appall or embarrass us the most,

and to find that we are still loved.

That’s the kind of place a church ought to be.

It’s not the kind of place that most churches are.

Can you imagine a community in which

it would be safe to say something like:

"You know, I’m afraid I may have developed

an addiction to my pain drugs.

Will you pray for me?"

"Please pray that I will meet the right person.

I am so tired of one-night stands

with people I meet in bars."

"I spend way too much of money on things I don’t need.

Will you pray that God will help me be

less selfish and more generous?"

"Sometimes when I get angry,

I hit my children way too hard.

Do you know of somewhere I can get help?"

Can you imagine a place

where you would say things like that,

about whatever the dark places are in your own life?

Can you imagine being the kind of person

that others would trust

with that sort of information about themselves?

Can we imagine being a community

in which people love the light so much

that we lose our fear of the darkness?

I think that, on the whole, we do this better than many congregations,

and it may be because we are small,

and can’t hide a whole lot from each other, anyway.

I also suspect that most if not all of us

will always have a few things in our lives

that we choose to keep in the darkness,

even though they probably ought to be brought to the light.

And of course, the whole notion

that we could really keep anything secret from God

is pretty ludicrous, anyway!

But that doesn’t keep us from trying!

At least, we think, we can keep it from one another.

But what if we didn’t have to?

The light has come into the world,

and we can welcome it,

or we can hide from it.

We can hate it for what it shows us about ourselves,

or we can love it because it highlights what is good about us,

and offers the opportunity for healing what is not.

We can hide from it,

hoping to keep our secrets secret,

or we can come out into it,

and work to reflect it out into the rest of the world.

We can be hiders from the light,

or we can be bearers of the light …

for each other, for our community …

for a world that sits mostly in darkness, and needs illumination.

God sent Christ into the world

not to condemn the world,

but to save it.

To shed light on us,

not to condemn us, but to save us.

May we trust in that love …

May we share it with those who are still in darkness.

Amen.

© 2006 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)