L is for LIGHT

Our family home was at the top of a hill. On any dark winter evening, I could see the street lamps of the local village, the illuminated face of the church clock, glowing windows in the small group of cottages at the bottom of the hill, the full beam of an occasional passing car and a handful of house lights speckled throughout the valley and beyond. And I could see the stars. On any night during this winter, I could still see all of these but now they have been joined by a multitude of new house lights switching on in almost every corner, a continuous stream of cars along the busier roads, floodlights beaming down on the local football players and up on the church prayers and even the tractors ploughing up the fields long after the natural light has faded. Nor am I an innocent party in all these illuminations when the garden lanterns are lit and the family seems to be living in every room at the one time! I can still see the stars, but sometimes they turn out to be aeroplanes, helicopters or satellites so what I think I see is not what's really there at all.

We had one light outside, perched high above the garage doors. Even with a high wattage bulb, its rays shone no more than halfway across the concrete yard in any direction. Still it provided more than enough light on a Saturday night for a regular 'shooting in' football session with dad and my second cousin before we all settled down to watch Match of the Day. With the eight foot high garage opening acting as the goal, the concrete as the soft landing in the six yard area and the winger almost invariably shrouded in deep shadows, there were many contentious decisions that would have benefited from television replays or goal line technology, but we didn't care, as long as the light kept burning.

But it's when the autumn and winter gales come and the electricity fails that you really notice the difference. When the whole countryside goes dark and you get a picture of what it once was like and you realise that there is a certain comfort and security in all those lights out there and you feel very alone, even if the lights are only in the distance and can't help you in any way.

It's not just outside that you miss them. In the house there are lots of little lights glowing away all the time that just let me know something is working. The hi-fi display, the dvd, video, TV, fridge, computer, printer, kettle, microwave, dishwasher, cooker, immersion heater - the list goes on, none of them giving out enough light that I could use to read or work but they're still there.

After the Beatitudes, Jesus says, 'You are the light of the world,' and I begin to wonder what type of light He wants me to be. Is it a light that is just saying, 'OK I'm a Christian,' or is it the light that shines out to show that I'm a follower and I want to share it with you. I think I find the answer a couple of lines later when He adds, 'let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.' So here's what I ask myself. When my light stops shining some day, will anyone notice?