For years, my kids and I have begged my husband to put up outdoor Christmas lights. For twenty plus years he has refused. He knows it’ll be a pain. He fears it will damage the house. I personally think he’s afraid it will look like the Griswold residence and doesn’t want the hassle. Finally, last year he conceded and bought thousands of lights after the post-Christmas sales hit the stores.

During the passing of the year, he forgot all about those lights tucked away in the closet…but I didn’t. When I reminded him about the lights, he groaned but reluctantly tugged them from their hiding spot to string them across our bushes and porch. He arranged them beautifully, but I forgot about them. Rarely am I outside in the dark at my home. I’m tucked away inside where it’s cozy and warm.

Several days ago, in the middle of the night, my phone buzzed. One message. A terrifying message. A friend’s son had committed suicide.

How? Why? I couldn’t piece the tangled information into a cohesive thought. All I knew is my heart broke for the pain they must be suffering.

I wandered out into living room, its darkness complete. Consuming. It was far too early for sunrise. For a moment, I wondered if the sun would actually have the audacity to appear. There’s something about a tragedy of this magnitude that lulls us into believing time will stop. That the world will freeze.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, I pressed my face against the glass of the front windows and sucked in a breath. Light flooded our porch. Thousands of twinkling little bulbs shining…piercing the night and pushing away the inky shadows.

I opened the front door and buffed my arms as the cold invaded. The sky was just as black as it had been hours before those little lights bathed the porch in a holy kind of glow. I peered down our street. Three more neighbors had hung their own lights…some blinking, some a rainbow of color. All of them a beacon.

Light pierces the dark.

My chest swelled with wonder. Jesus. Our darkness was the whole reason He came.

He stepped into the dark, into the chaos, and scattered the night. His coming brought hope. It brought redemption. Mary didn’t just birth a little Boy. His presence became our healing and the promise of no more pain. No more night. Nothing but light.

One day, all depression, all anxiety, all cancer, all disease and sickness of the body and soul will be crushed. For now, to those suffering, and for those affected by the loss of one who has suffered, He is our peace. He will carry us through the valley, not just holding our hands, but carrying us in his arms until the shadow of death has melted away and riches pastures of grace and joy stretch before us once again.

He has made peace with everything in heaven and on earth through His blood.

And now every time I see Christmas lights, I remember the Light of the world.