Lights Still On

 During the holidays a year ago, I picked up a little decoration to add to my seasonal decor. At a local boutique store, I saw this sweet church: covered in snowy sparkles with a battery-operated light inside, this simple symbol of worship seemed appropriate in my home as a reminder of the Reason for the season. And so I bought it. Arranging it with some bottlebrush trees and an antique-looking plaque with the words and music to a favorite carol, it found its home at the bottom of the stairs, near the front door. Everyday, as I walked past it, I would look at it and be drawn into spiritual connection. 

But the times when it most struck me were always in the evenings when the winter darkness has fallen outside and any bit of light is welcome. I would turn on its little battery light and watch it glow all the way up until bedtime when I shut the house down for the night. On so many occasions, that little church seemed to call out into the dark and point my soul to the Light of the World. Perhaps I'd be having a hard day or the concerns of the world seemed especially pressing and all I'd have to do is take one tiny peek and I was centered again. 

They say having visuals helps the brain remember things it's apt to forget in a moment of crisis, and I often plaster the truth wherever I can find it just for that very reason. But, unlike the other plaques and things I have scattered about, this decorative church has no visible words. Yet the message is maybe even more loud and profound...

When the world feels like it's fallen in and the darkness as descended heavy, the reality is that the Light is still on, and God is home.... available, ready, attentive, engaged, aware. He has not "left the building" and is roaming about somewhere, completely ignorant of our needs or situations. The throne room of Grace is unlocked and open... twenty-four hours a day. 

Pain has a way of giving you spiritual amnesia because the reality of the circumstances can seem so great or so impossible that all the truth you've heard and all the miracles you've seen suddenly are like they never happened. It's as though your brain panics and when that happens, memory shuts down and all you can think of is how to survive. The truths that will comfort and calm and sustain you get blanked out and you become like the disciples in the boat where the waves feel more threatening than your Savior is strong. 

Sometimes you need the reminder that God is still sovereign and active and alive. You need to stop the anxious flow and preach to yourself what you know deep down to be true: the cross is still empty and you have a God who proved even death itself as no match for His power. What makes you think He can't do it again for you even now? 

You of little faith, why have you ever doubted? 

It's getting to be brighter here as the days lengthen and the temperatures slightly warm. Spring is slowly on its way and soon, I will need to put up the winter decor and bring out the other. But I've left that church up as long as I can. It's as though I've needed it extra this time... just to help me to keep remembering to "take it to the Lord in prayer," as the old hymn says. 

Does the cross you're being asked to bear feel super heavy today? Do the problems you're facing feel overwhelming? Does the state of the nation and the world appear unfixable or insurmountable? Are you tempted to get discouraged, stressed, defeated? Turn your eyes to the Light and know that it never goes out. God is still God, and we are still loved. Always. The church is shining out what's forever been true: even in the darkest of days, some things never change. And that is a consolation of the greatest kind.