Let Your Light Shine

 "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to the Father who is in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16

    One of the first songs I learned in Sunday school was "This Little Light of Mine." As we twirled our chubby fingers in the air and sang as loudly as possible, did we realize with what boldness we sang out those words? We were going to let our "lights shine" no matter what! We certainly did not want Satan to "pppfffttt" it out and energetically stomped our feet to let him know we meant business. As an adult, I don't often sing that rousing tune, especially now that our children are a bit older and Max's favorite is "I love you Lord" (that boy melts my heart!), but we do frequently listen to the words of Matthew 5 on the Slugs and Bugs Sing the Bible Vol. 2.  I found that song running through my head as I read the first few chapters of Matthew this morning. 

    Recently, I have longed to be in the four gospels, longed to hear again the words Jesus spoke. There is a closeness there that I want to wrap myself in like a cozy blanket on a bleak winter's day. I paused today, as I read those familiar words again...let your light shine--shine so that others may see---giving God glory. When our lives took a sharp turn with the word "Leukemia," I immediately desired to know why. Why? Why our family? Why now? Why Kurt? And I didn't ask in a whining, woe is me attitude at that first moment, though I am sure on low days I will wrestle there and need to refocus on Christ, but I wanted to know what purpose this journey will serve for God's kingdom. I felt that if I knew, I could march forward in confidence.  While I don't know all the reasons and may not see why God allowed this in our lives on this side of heaven, I know God has already challenged me in many ways to "let my light shine" for Him. There is something about that moment when life suddenly tilts on its axis--everything goes blurry and confused, and then suddenly you land on your new plane of existence. Some things become sharply clear. For me, the moment Kurt was diagnosed, I shook off any fears I had of sharing the gospel and being bold in love for others. The nervous butterflies are still there, but, below that, there is a steely resolve to be bold in the only hope I have, have ever had--in my savior. No matter what the "why" might be and no matter if I ever know it, I know that following Jesus and letting my light shine in the darkness through this and whatever else life might throw at us is worth it if it brings Him glory. 

     When you look at our journey, I hope you don't look at us as much as you look towards Jesus. Whatever "good works" we may do in our lives, the strength to do them and the very desires to do them, come from Christ. The good works are only good if they bring Him glory. And even though I will keep my light shining, sometimes the darkness comes very close. I cried out in the shower (why is the shower such a good place to cry?) that frankly, I just didn't want to have to do this. I just wanted to push pause and reset my world. I didn't want to keep picking up feet and take another step in the heavy quicksand pulling me down. I remembered what Jesus prayed before the cross, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will." Jesus met me in my grief there and I know He understands my grieving heart better than anyone else can. I am learning to pray with a "nevertheless" daily, to talk to my Father and tell Him my requests, but to always add the "nevertheless" knowing His will is higher, better, and more desirable than my own. 

    All of the grief, anxieties, worries, and normal human reactions to trauma still plague me. Knowing truth and choosing daily to follow Christ doesn't mean we are released from our struggle against our human nature, but when my eyes are trained on Him, I am able to see my grief, anxieties and worries in their proper sphere. I am able to see them as the temporal things they are and look beyond to a King and a Kingdom that offer eternal hope. Do I fail at this? Yes. Do I want to despair, give up, wail to the top of my lungs. Yes (and sometimes I do those things). But---the light... my little light shines...it grows in the darkness as I train my eyes on it, opening my pupils, driving back the darkness until the shadows disappear.  I have hope in that even after Jesus wept in Gethsemane, walked the lonely road to the cross, and spent three days in darkness, LIGHT burst through, the stone was rolled away and He lives. 

May that same light shine in us now and in the days to come. 

-Priscilla