From Darkness to Light

It is a curious thing, and yet as common as dirt, that we modern folk have managed to get everything precisely upside down. We have performed the remarkable feat of convincing ourselves that darkness is more substantial than light, that shadows are more real than the sun. It is as if we were to insist that the holes in a piece of cheese are more nutritious than the cheese itself, or that the spaces between the railings of a fence are more useful for keeping out intruders than the railings themselves. But this topsy-turvy thinking is exactly the sort of madness that Christianity came to cure, and cure it does, with all the startling efficiency of a cold shower on a sluggard's head.

Now, it is commonly said by those who pride themselves on their modernity that Christianity is a gloomy and pessimistic creed, always droning on about sin and suffering like a melancholy aunt at a wedding feast. But this is about as sensible as accusing doctors of being obsessed with illness because they spend their time curing it. The truth is, Christianity is the most gloriously, ridiculously, and defiantly optimistic philosophy the world has ever known, for it dares to believe that the darkest night can be turned into the brightest day, and that the most wretched sinner can become a saint. It is a religion that looks at the worst the world has to offer and responds with a cheerful, "Is that the best you can do?"

Let us begin at the beginning, which is always a very good place to start, especially when one is talking about beginnings. The Bible tells us that in the beginning, God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. This, I submit, is a far more cheerful way to kick off a universe than the modern scientific notion that in the beginning there was a big bang, and then a lot of cosmic dust had to spend billions of years trying to tidy itself up. It is as if God, like any sensible person starting a new project, began by turning on the lights.

But then comes the Fall, that curious incident in the garden with the apple, which has caused no end of trouble ever since. It is at this point that many modern thinkers throw up their hands in despair and declare that humanity is irredeemably flawed, rather like a clock that has had sand thrown in its gears. But Christianity, with its characteristic contrariness, insists that this very flaw is the key to our redemption. It is as if God looked at the shattered remains of His creation and said, "Excellent! Now I can really get to work." It is the divine equivalent of an artist who, having accidentally spilled paint on his canvas, decides to turn the mess into a masterpiece.

This brings us to the great paradox at the heart of the Christian faith: that the way up is down, that strength is found in weakness, and that light shines brightest in darkness. It is a philosophy that would be utterly mad if it were not utterly true. For what could be more absurd than to claim that a man nailed to a cross is the savior of the world? And yet, what could be more gloriously, defiantly hopeful? It is as if the universe itself has been turned into a vast chess game, where the king sacrifices himself to save a pawn.

The journey from darkness to light, you see, is not a gentle stroll from the shadows into the sunshine. It is more like being struck by lightning – terrifying, painful, and utterly transformative. It is the kind of journey that turns fishermen into apostles and persecutors into preachers. It is the sort of thing that makes perfect sense and no sense at all, rather like love or poetry or a really good joke. It is a journey that begins with the realization that one is lost and ends with the discovery that one has been found all along.

Now, there are those who will object that this is all very well, but what about the darkness that still persists in the world? What about war and poverty and injustice? What about the fact that good men suffer and evil men prosper? To which I can only reply: exactly! For if the world were already perfect, what need would there be for light-bearers? The very persistence of darkness is the strongest argument for the necessity of light. It is as if the world were a vast stage, set for a great drama, and the Christians are the actors who have been given the best lines and the most exciting roles.

Christianity, you see, is not a religion for those who wish to admire the light from a safe distance, like spectators at a fireworks display. It is a call to become the light, to plunge headlong into the darkest corners of the world armed with nothing but a flickering candle and a foolish hope. It is an invitation to a great adventure, a cosmic game of hide-and-seek where we are both the seekers and the sought. It is a challenge to look at the darkness square in the face and say, "You don't frighten me," even if our knees are knocking together like castanets.

And here we come to another delightful paradox: the more we give our light away, the brighter it becomes. It is as if we were dealing with a peculiar kind of mathematics where multiplication happens by division. The saints understood this, which is why they were always in such a hurry to martyrdom. They had discovered the secret that it is far more fun to be the candle than the candlestick, and that a life poured out for others is infinitely more satisfying than a life carefully hoarded for oneself.

But let us not get ahead of ourselves. The journey from darkness to light is not completed in a day, or even in a lifetime. It is more like learning to dance – a constant interplay of stumbles and graceful moves, of treading on toes and soaring leaps. And just when we think we've mastered the waltz, we find that God has changed the music to a tango. It is a journey that requires us to be both serious and silly, to approach life with the gravity of a judge and the laughter of a child.

This journey, this dance, takes place in the most unlikely of ballrooms – the world itself. And what a curious ballroom it is! Full of shadows and bright spots, of dark corners and dazzling chandeliers. It is a place where saints and sinners rub shoulders, where tragedy and comedy perform a constant duet, and where the music never quite resolves into a final chord. It is, in short, the perfect setting for a great romance, which is precisely what Christianity claims the universe to be.

In this grand ballroom, we find ourselves constantly stumbling over our own feet and those of others. We step on toes, bump into furniture, and occasionally fall flat on our faces. But the remarkable thing is that each stumble, each fall, can become a step in the dance if we let it. For in the divine choreography, even our mistakes can be turned into graceful moves. It is as if we were in a play where every dropped line and missed cue somehow makes the story richer and more meaningful.

And through it all, there is a promise, a whisper of something more. It is the promise that one day, the dance will end, and we will step out into a light so bright that it makes the sun look like a guttering candle. It is the hope that all our fumbling steps and missteps have been leading us, all along, to a dawn that will never end. It is the assurance that the story we are part of is not a tragedy, but a comedy in the truest sense – not because it is always funny (though it often is), but because it ends in joy.

This promise is not just a vague hope for the future, but a reality that breaks into our present. It is like a crack in the universe through which the light of eternity shines. We see it in moments of unexpected beauty, in acts of selfless love, in the laughter of children, and in the quiet courage of ordinary people facing extraordinary challenges. These are the places where the light shines brightest, where the dance is most joyful, and where the music of the spheres can be heard most clearly.

But let us not forget that this journey from darkness to light is not just an individual odyssey, but a cosmic drama. It is the story of a universe groaning in travail, waiting for the revealing of the children of God. It is the tale of a creation that has been subjected to futility, not by its own will, but by the will of the one who subjected it in hope. And what a hope it is! For we are promised not just personal salvation, but the redemption of all things, the making new of heaven and earth.

In this great drama, we are called to play our part, however small it may seem. We are like candles in a vast darkness, each of us casting a tiny circle of light. But when we come together, our little lights join to push back the shadows, to create islands of brightness in a sea of gloom. And who knows? We might just set the whole world ablaze.

This, then, is the Christian journey from darkness to light. It is a tale full of sound and fury, signifying everything. It is the story of a God who loved the play so much that He wrote Himself into it, of a Light that was so bright it swallowed up the darkness, and of a people stumbling towards home, singing as they go. It is a journey that transforms peasants into kings, sinners into saints, and turns the wisdom of the world on its head.

And if all this sounds a bit mad, well, that's precisely the point. For in a world gone mad with darkness, only the madness of light will do. It is a divine madness, a holy folly that dares to believe in impossible things before breakfast and performs six miracles before dinner. It is the madness that believes that love is stronger than death, that forgiveness is more powerful than vengeance, and that a mustard seed of faith can move mountains.

So let us be off, then, on this great adventure. Let us charge into the night with our candles held high, for the darkness is passing away, and the true light is already shining. Let us dance our way from shadow to sunshine, from despair to hope, from death to life. For we are part of a story that began before the dawn of time and will continue long after the last star has winked out. We are the bearers of a light that can never be extinguished, the heralds of a dawn that will never end.

And in the end, when we have finished our dance and sung our song, we shall find that the darkness was never really darkness at all, but only the shadow cast by an unimaginably bright light. We shall discover that our journey was not so much a passage from darkness to light as an awakening to the light that was always there. And we shall laugh with joy to find that the game of hide-and-seek is over, and that we have been found by a love that will never let us go.

-The Seeker's Quill