When I was a kid my job was to take out the trash. If I forgot during the daylight hours I would have to complete my job in the dark. The problem, as is for many kids, was that I was afraid of the dark. I would creep to the edge of the garage as the light bordered the alleyway behind our row of townhomes. Then I would race to the dumpster enclosure as fast as I could, sometimes throwing the bag over the wall and hoping it made it into the container as I raced back to the safety of my garage. Aside from the occasional cat or opossum, there was nothing out there. But, the active imagination of an 8-year-old produced all kinds of creepy crawling things that might get me in the dark alleyway at night. What I needed was my trusty flashlight so that the safety of the lighted garage could go with me down the alley. 

Jesus provides a flashlight. He says “You are the light of the world.” 

It’s astonishing when you think about it. The One who called Himself The Light of the World now turns to His followers and says, “You are the light.” In other words, the light of Christmas is not meant to be admired from a distance; it’s meant to be embodied. We don’t just celebrate light — we become it. The darkness is pushed back by our presence.

I remember standing in church on Christmas Eve as a kid, holding a small candle during the closing hymn. The sanctuary lights dimmed as the flame was passed from one candle to another until the room glowed with soft, flickering light. What began as a single flame became hundreds, spreading from person to person. That image has stayed with me for years. We still practice this tradition because it captures exactly what Jesus meant. His light was never meant to remain in one place; it was always meant to multiply.

Jesus describes this in simple terms: “A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.” A lamp was meant for visibility — to bring clarity, direction, and warmth. The absurdity of hiding it under a bowl is exactly Jesus’ point. It’s possible to have the light of Christ within us and yet hide it behind fear, apathy, or self-protection. It will by nature burn through those facades.

This season, as we celebrate His coming, we are reminded that we’re also sent. The light we’ve received is meant to shine in our words, our relationships, and our presence. Christ doesn’t ask us to manufacture light — He asks us to reflect the light that comes from Him.

That’s an important distinction. The moon doesn’t produce its own glow; it simply reflects the sun’s brilliance. The same is true for followers of Jesus. We are not the source of light — He is. But we reflect Him to the world. The more we turn toward Him, the brighter we shine.

That’s what O Come, All Ye Faithful calls us to do: “O come, let us adore Him.” Adoration is more than affection — it’s alignment. It’s the act of turning our hearts fully toward the Light so that His radiance fills and reflects from us.

Jesus says that when our light shines, others “see our good works and glorify our Father in heaven.” That’s the true purpose of our light — not self-promotion, but divine reflection. The world doesn’t need more spotlights on human success; it needs steady lamps of grace and truth that point to Jesus.

In our age of distraction, loneliness, addiction, and disconnection, light is still what people crave most. We crave hope when life feels uncertain. We crave warmth when relationships grow cold. We crave good news when headlines are dark. The Church was never meant to fight the darkness — we were meant to simply shine light into it. Then darkness can’t help but recede. 

So here’s the question for this Advent week: Where might God be calling you to shine?

In a difficult relationship that needs grace? In a workplace where there is a need for encouragement? In a small act of kindness to someone who feels forgotten?

Light doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. One gentle word, one act of forgiveness, one prayer of support — each is a flame that can light another candle.

And when you add them together — a community of believers glowing with Christ’s love — the result is breathtaking. Darkness doesn’t stand a chance against that kind of light.

Reflection: Think of one person or place that feels dim or heavy in your world. Pray for that space, and then take one simple step this week to shine — through encouragement, generosity, or presence.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, Light of the World, thank you for shining into my darkness and calling me to be a light in Yours. Help me not to hide or hoard Your light, but to reflect it in every conversation and action. As I adore You this Christmas, let my life bring glory to the Father and warmth to others. Shine through me, Jesus, until every heart sees Your light. Amen.