There is a new fixture on the console of my car, and I’m not happy about it. The hard, gray case is a subtle reminder—my eyes are telling me I’m getting older. Looking back, I recognize this has been coming for some time now, but it wasn’t until about six months ago when the thought finally became clearly articulated in my head: I can’t see in the dark. After a reluctant (and expensive) visit to the optometrist, the problem has become clear—in the absence of enough light, my eyes just flat out refuse to focus. In fact, unless it is complete daylight, I struggle to see clearly at all. Even dusk and dawn present difficulty for my aging vision. I have to accept this new truth—half-light is not enough to eliminate the blur and make things clear.

I need full light in order to see.

Now, before you start to worry about being on the road with me, please remember I have gone to the eye doctor. My vision, at least, is not cause for your concern. The new pair of glasses serve to assist my eyes with focusing when there is not enough light available for them to do so on their own. You are safe.

But it concerns me I didn’t catch this sooner. How long have I been struggling to see, creating a hazard for myself and others? And I must say that having lived with this for quite some time before finally recognizing and admitting it, I must also wonder how much of my entire life is lived out-of-focus. How much of my life do I live in the half-light? How much does the darkness continually steal from me? Where have I not been seeing things clearly? As our eyes are often used metaphorically in the Word, it seems important to reflect further upon this issue.

There are times when things just aren’t clear—when I flat out can’t see. Darkness covers the landscape of my life. Absence of light threatens to run me off the road. Heavy burdens weigh me down, overwhelming me and overshadowing all that was once bright. These are frightening times. But the worst times, to me, are actually the half-light. Things aren’t bright enough to be clear, but are bright enough to recognize I am seeing something incorrectly. Times when I know my perception is off, but I can’t clear it on my own without the aid of my “lenses.” I question. I doubt. I fear. My sin is ever before me, but I am unable to see it. I find myself, once again, in the dark.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light—from darkness to light—the metaphor is clear. There is no gray here, no ambiguity. Isaiah does not tell us that the people who walked in a great darkness noticed a small, faint glow on the horizon. We’re not talking about a February dawn in Midwest Ohio. No—a great light! Shining! There is no half-light here—no twilight or haze, no early morning glow. There is light. There is joy. There is relief from burden, there is freedom from sin. There is life, eternal.

Fortunately, when I sought out clarity, my doctor did not just give me half the strength of my prescription and send me on my way. Likewise, God did not send his Son to merely bring us half way. He is not content to leave is in the half-light. Jesus didn’t come to us as an itty bitty flashlight—the kind my daughter hides in her bed to read by after the lights are out. He did not come to us as the “faint star twinkling through the haze.” He came to us as the Bright Morning Star. He came to us as a “great light.” Complete light. He came not to give half-light, but complete light.

He came not to give half-life, but complete life. Eternal life.

These new glasses do not do me much good in my case on the consol. I could choose not to wear them—in fact, I do not like to wear them. But if I choose to not receive the benefits they provide, what good do they do me? I just end up at home with a headache from eye strain, my fingers aching from white-knuckling the steering wheel all the way home.

In the same way, His gift is not one we open, force a smile, and say a polite thanks, all the while thinking to ourselves, But I really wanted a _______________.  If we knew the magnitude of this gift, if we really knew what is was like to SEE again, we would eagerly give up all others.

The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:2

There is a way to see when the sky is dark and our vision is obscured. A Great Light to illuminate our days and nights—melting the clouds of sin and sadness, driving the dark of doubt away.

Our vision can be corrected. Even tired, weary eyes can see.

advent Christmas darkness hope light