Never in the Dark

The Rev. Dr. Whitworth Ferguson III

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

September 12, 2010

Never in the Dark

John 8:12

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying,

“I am the light of the world.

Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness,

 but will have the light of life.”

You slip into the room and the door closes behind you.

You stand motionless in the dark,

feeling the void all around you.

You’d been challenged:

go into a darkened room

and in one hour or less,

find the light, the only light

that’s somewhere in the room.

It sounded simple,

it even sounded fun,

a game to play on a cool autumn evening.

But you hadn’t expected such complete darkness,

utter darkness.

Even after you’ve given your eyes a few minutes to adjust,

you see nothing,

absolutely nothing but pitch black all around you.

Not so much as a sliver of light anywhere:

nothing from under the door,

nothing through the heavy curtains covering the windows.

Not even the tiniest light glowing from a DVD player

or some other electronic gadget.                                   

Nothing……..You are in utter, complete darkness.

You take a breath and collect your thoughts

as you stand there by the door,

your back to the wall.

You’re methodical, rational, logical.

so you’ll find the light – the room can’t be that big

and you’ve got a full hour.

The first thing you do is listen,

listen to the sounds that give the darkness life:

Hissing steam venting from a radiator

off to your left,        

sounding like an annoyed cat.

Straight in front of you, across the room,

the ticking of a clock,

a small clock, probably up on a shelf.

Windows on either side of you rattle in the wind,

the sound muffled by heavy curtains.

You begin your search,

begin by sliding your hands around the doorframe

and the wall where you stand,

feeling for a switch.

What room doesn’t have a light switch right by the door?

But that would be too easy, too obvious,

and you find nothing,

not a toggle switch, an old-fashioned push-button,

a slide, a plate – nothing.

You start to move, move right – exploring the wall.

Three steps forward and you hit your first obstacle,

something solid: a table,

a good-sized table pushed up against the wall.

You run your hands over the surface –

perhaps there’s a lamp on it,

but all you find are three books,

what you guess is a picture frame,

and what feels like a small china figurine.

Slowly you inch your way forward,

finding the corner of the room

and moving along the next wall.

There you find a large bookcase,

a chair,

a desk.

But still no lamp, no light,

nothing on tables or shelves or floor.

        

Now you move along the third wall,

the one facing the door where you came in.

You feel the cold smoothness of the marble mantel

that outlines the fireplace.

You can smell the smokiness from the last fire.

As you run your hands along the mantel,

you find the small clock that’s been ticking,

chiming the quarter hours.

Just then it chimes yet again,

telling you you’ve spent 30 minutes searching already,

30 minutes without success,

30 minutes in the dark.

You move forward to the fourth wall,

and again find a table, a chair,

a door that’s locked,

but still no lamp, no switch,

no light of any kind.

You finally return to the door where you came in.

Now comes the more difficult part,

now you have to search the middle of the room,

to step forward into the void to see what’s there.

With a deep breath you step once, twice, small steps,

hands outstretched,

the radiator hissing,

the clock ticking,

the windows rattling,

and now the floorboards creaking with your every step.

                 

On your fourth step you bump into something.

It’s a couch, a large couch,

a leather couch,

the leather is worn and smells of woodfire.

You explore to the left and find an end table next to the couch.

Nothing on it, not even a magazine.

You move around in front of the couch

and work your way to the other end.

There, next to the couch

you find what feels like an upholstered chair,

a wing chair judging by its shape.

This must be such a comfortable room in the light!

But still, no floor lamp,…no table lamp,

no “itty-bitty booklight” lying on the chair

waiting to be used.

You sit down on the couch.

You can’t see it, but you know you are facing the fireplace.

How nice a fire would be right now,

its warmth to take the chill out of the night air,

the soft glow of the firelight filling the room.

Firelight! That must be it!

Not electric lights, but firelight –

that must be the light!

You step forward cautiously, but excitedly,

and find your way to the fireplace.

You run your hands over the mantel again,

down the sides, around the base of the hearth.

You can feel the logs on the grate,

kindling underneath, ready to be lit.

A match, a lighter of some sort –

must be somewhere.

You can feel the grit of the soot on your hands

as you explore every inch on your hands and knees,

but you find nothing, not even a spent match.

The clock above chimes to tell you 45 minutes have passed;

45 minutes in the dark.

You have just 15 minutes left to find the light.

You pick yourself up from the floor        

and find your way back to the couch,

just a couple of steps.

Was it desperation, or maybe just a need to laugh

and keep things in perspective

that caused you to stop in the middle of the room

and clap your hands?

“Clap on, Clap off”,

and possibly light a chandelier on the ceiling?

But again, nothing.

        

You were told there was a light in the room,

one light, a light that would fill the room,

easily accessible, easy to find.

Where, where could it be?

Even the night sky outside has the moon and the stars

to keep the world from descending into total darkness.

And then you know,

you know where it is,

where to look for it,

where to find it.

It was always there, right in front of you:

The light given you by the grace of God

in Jesus Christ.

“I am the light of the world,” says our Lord;

“Whoever follows me

will never walk in darkness.”

That’s the light,

the light that shines so brightly

that no darkness can ever overcome it.

(John 1:5)

The clock on the mantel chimes the hour

and the door to the room opens,

The light from the hallway floods the room

and you squint your eyes.

You walk out of the room into the hallway,

where the others wait,

wondering if you found the answer,

if you found the light.

And from the look on your face,

the look of peace that radiates from every pore

even after having spent an hour in a darkened room,

they know you have,

they know you understand now

that you were never in the dark.

“You are the light of the world,”

our Lord says to us, each of us,

“Let your light shine before others”

(Matthew 5:14ff)

Jesus calls us to let our light shine,

the light that comes from him,

the light that reflects him:

the light of grace,

the light of compassion and goodness,

the light of tolerance and acceptance,

…the light of love.

So let us do just that – let’s share the light of Christ

with one another,

and as you share it, receiving and then giving,

re-commit yourself to sharing the light

not just here, not just now,

but everywhere, everyday,

all times, all places.

“The people who walked in darkness,

have seen a great light;

… on them,

[on us],

light has shined.”

The light of life.

The light of the world.

Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Amen