This Little Light of Mine   

Dr. Larry Thorson
December 14, 2008

 

John 1:6-8; 19-28

6 There was a man sent from God whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. 8 He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

19 Now this was John's testimony when the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem sent priests and Levites to ask him who he was. 20 He did not fail to confess, but confessed freely, "I am not the Messiah."

    21 They asked him, "Then who are you? Are you Elijah?"
       He said, "I am not."
       "Are you the Prophet?"
       He answered, "No."

    22 Finally they said, "Who are you? Give us an answer to take back to those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?"

    23 John replied in the words of Isaiah the prophet, "I am the voice of one calling in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way for the Lord.' "

    24 Now the Pharisees who had been sent 25 questioned him, "Why then do you baptize if you are not the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the Prophet?"

    28 This all happened at Bethany on the other side of the Jordan, where John was baptizing.

Today’s New International Version Copyright © 2001, 2005 by International Bible Society

 

Our song for this third Sunday of Advent is more traditional than the theme songs for the first two Sundays. We began on the First Sunday in Advent with “You better watch out, you better not cry; you better not pout, I’m telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town.” And I talked about getting ready for Christ’s return. Then last week I began my message on Isaiah’s promise of comfort for people suffering with depression because of the season with “I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.”

Today’s song isn’t even a Christmas song.  It’s the popular children’s song, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine . .” written sometime around 1920 by Harry Dixon Loes.  It was originally based on Matthew 5:16 where Jesus said "Let your light shine before men, that they may see your fine works and give glory to your Father who is in the heaven:"  But besides being a popular children’s camp song it also became one of the top ten protest songs during the civil rights era of the 1950’s.  As such it referred to the power of people standing together to make a greater light that will better expose the darkness of racism. 

Regardless of its use, the song is primarily about light.  That’s what makes it so appropriate for Advent because Advent is all about light.  Think about it.  I have Christmas lights on my house.  I have a nativity scene on my lawn with a little spotlight pointing at it.  We have lights on our Christmas tree.  We have extra candles with the Advent wreath.  On Christmas Eve we’ll conclude the service with candle lights.  The shepherds followed the star to the baby in Bethlehem.  Christmas is all about lights. 

The writer of the Gospel of John refers to Christ as the light of the world and uses the word “light” no fewer than twenty‑one times in referring to Christ.  For our sake today I want to equate light with hope.  Sometimes life is like a long, dark tunnel and you’re not even certain it has an opening until you see  light at the end of the tunnel.  It’s that light that gives you hope to carry on.  That’s what the light of Christ brings a dark world.

I read a story recently about a guy named Darrel Dore who was working on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico when suddenly it began to wobble. Before too long it tipped to one side and crashed into the water. Darrel found himself trapped inside a room on the rig. As the rig sank deeper and deeper into the sea, the lights went out and the room where Darrel was trapped began filling with water. Thrashing about in the darkness, Darrel made a life-saving discovery a huge air bubble was forming in the corner of the room. He kept his head inside that bubble of air and prayed that someone would find him.

As he prayed, Darrel felt Christ’s presence there with him. For twenty-two hours the presence of Christ comforted Darrel, but deep down Darrel knew that the oxygen supply inside the bubble was slowly giving out. Soon he could be dead.

Then Darrel saw a tiny star of light shimmering in the pitch‑black water. Was it real or after twenty-two hours was he beginning to hallucinate? Darrel squinted his eyes. The light seemed to grow brighter. He squinted again. He wasn’t hallucinating. The light was real. It was coming from a helmet of a diver who was coming to rescue him. His long nightmare was over. He was saved.[1]

Think of darkness as an absence of hope.  When John wrote his Gospel the world of his readers was in darkness.  No, the sun hadn’t stopped shining but their country was collapsing morally and economically.  There was a huge absence of hope for the future.    

Darkness is an absence of hope.  But often when your world is at its darkest that’s when God sends a little light of hope.  It may not be the answers to your prayers yet.  It may not even ultimately amount to anything but it gives you hope for that day.

John the Baptist was that little light of hope for the people of Jesus’ day. He wasn’t the big light of Christ but he was a sign that their time of darkness was coming to a close and it was time to get ready.  He came to tell the world that Jesus is the light of the world. That’s the good news for this third Sunday in Advent. The light that enlightens all humankind has come into the world in the person of the Christ child.

Charles Colson, founder of Prison Fellowship, a ministry to inmates and their families, tells about a meeting he and several other Christian leaders once had with the president of Ecuador, a man named Rodrigo Borja Cevallos. These Christian leaders were asking the president for permission to begin a ministry in Ecuadorian penitentiaries. The president interrupted the conversation. He wanted to tell a story. It was the story of his own imprisonment years before being elected to the presidency.

Cevallos had been involved in the struggle for democracy in Ecuador. The military cracked down, and he was arrested. Without trial, they threw him into a cold dungeon with no light and no window. For three days he endured total darkness. He feared for his sanity.

Just when the situation seemed unbearable, the door to his cell opened, and someone crept into the darkness. The president heard this person working on something in the opposite corner. Then the figure crept out, closed the door, and disappeared.

Minutes later the room suddenly blazed with light. Someone, at the risk perhaps of his own life, had connected electricity to the broken light fixture. “From that moment,” explained Cevallos, “my imprisonment had meaning because at least I could see.”[2] Anyone who has ever been lost on a dark night knows what a welcome relief light is.

Luci Swindoll tells about a friend who, along with six strangers, was caught in a stalled elevator during a power failure. Fear was quickly turning to panic. But then Luci’s friend remembered that she had a tiny flashlight in her purse. When she turned it on, the fear in the elevator dissipated. For forty‑five minutes these strangers sat around the light and talked, laughed, and even sang. The light came on just when they needed it the most.[3]

John the Baptist came at probably the darkest moment when the Jewish world most needed light.  Thousands went out to hear his message of repentance and turned their lives back to God in preparation for receiving the Christ.  He was a small light to help them get ready.  You may that tiny light in someone’s life this Christmas.  Imagine giving the gift of spiritual light to someone. 

Judith Carrick tells of visiting a nursing home in her community where there was a woman whose mind was as sharp as anyone’s, but because of her illness, she could no longer walk or speak. This poor woman communicated mostly by gestures. She and Carrick had become good friends over the years they had known each other, and, as friends do, Carrick occasionally would run little errands for the woman, small tasks that she could no longer do for herself.

On one occasion the elderly woman waved Carrick into her room with some sense of urgency. There on her bed was a paper napkin with a picture drawn on it. Looking straight at her visitor, the elderly woman pointed to that napkin over and over again. It was obvious that this was something important. Carrick looked closely, and she saw the woman had sketched, as best she could, what appeared to be a flashlight.

“Is that a flashlight?” Carrick asked. Her friend’s head nodded up and down, while she pointed first at the picture and then to herself. Carrick laughed. “You want a flashlight?” The head nodded again. “Whatever for?” Carrick asked.

The woman could not answer verbally, but in her own way she made it known that this was a matter of great concern and importance to her. So Carrick agreed to bring her a flashlight.

The next time Carrick went to the nursing home she made sure that she had the flashlight in hand. She walked into the woman’s room, shining the light all over the walls. A big smile crossed the woman’s face. “Please,” Carrick said, “tell me what this is all about. Why do you need a flashlight?”

The old woman moved her wheelchair toward the door and indicated for Carrick to follow. Together they went down the hall to the nurse’s station, where one of the aides told Carrick that, a few weeks earlier, during a week of heavy rain and high winds, the power in the nursing home had gone out for a time. The woman had become frightened, and she wanted the assurance that if it happened again, she would have that small beam of light to shine in the darkness and ease her fears.[4]

What a great gift for someone who might otherwise have to sit in the darkness, the gift of light. In 2001 Mark Bent, went to work as the general manager of an oil exploration team off the coast of the Red Sea in Eritrea, near Ethiopia for a company later acquired by the French oil giant Perenco. But the oil business, he said, “didn’t satisfy my soul.”

While working for Perenco in Asmara, Eritrea he got an inspiration. One Sunday he visited a local dump to watch scavenging by baboons and birds of prey, and came upon a group of homeless boys who had adopted the dump as their home.

They took him home to a rural village where he noticed that many people had nothing to light their homes, schools and clinics at night.

With a little research, he discovered that close to two billion people around the world go without affordable access to light.  He worked with researchers, engineers and manufacturers, at the Department of Energy, several American universities, and even NASA before finding a factory in China to produce a durable, cost-effective solar-powered flashlight whose shape was inspired by his wife’s shampoo bottle.

The light, or sun torch, has a narrow solar panel on one side that charges the batteries, which can last between 750 and 1,000 nights, and uses the more efficient light-emitting diodes, or L.E.D.s, to cast its light.

The flashlights usually sell for about $19.95 in American stores, but Bent has established BoGo — a Buy One, Give One — program on his Web site, BoGoLight.com, where if you buy one flashlight for $25, he will buy and ship another one to Africa, and donate $1 to one of the aid groups he works with.[5]

        What a great gift to give someone the gift of light.  Light means hope.  That’s what God has done for us the gift of Jesus Christ.  He has both revealed our sins and forgiven them so that we can have real hope of eternal life.  But to reject that gift by hanging on to our own lives and doing our own thing is like opening a present and saying “Oh that’s nice” and stuffing it back in the box and taking it to the Salvation Army.  If you like the gift of Jesus Christ then show God with your energy, your finances and with your schedule.  Say “Jesus, I want you to be my Lord, my master and my savior.  I want you to come into my life or for some of you I want you back in my life.”  

This Christmas we might be that tiny little light in someone’s dark world.  If Christ is living in your heart look for someone who might be alone this Christmas and invite them to come with you.  Maybe it’s just to come with you to Sunday worship or maybe to come on Christmas Eve at 5:00 pm.  Maybe it’s to spend a meal together.  This little light of mine, let it shine this season.    

 

 

Dynamic Preaching Sermons, Fourth Quarter 2008, King Duncan, ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., 2008, 0-000-0000-20

 

 

 



[1]Rev. Richard J. Fairchild, http://www.rockies.net/~spirit/sermons/b‑ad04sm.php.

 

[2] Ronald W. Nikkel in Fresh Illustrations for Preaching & Teaching (Baker), from the editors of Leadership. Cited at www.firstpcavillarica.org/Sermon LAMPWITHIN.

 

[3]Dr. Shotwell, http://acbc.us/sermons/struckbylight.pdf.

 

[4]www.rockies.net/~spirit/sermons/b‑ch00‑adams.php.

 

[5] By WILL CONNORS and RALPH BLUMENTHAL  published: May 20, 2007 in the New York Times