The Light
Sermon
Daniel J. Weitner
And Other Reflections On Christmas
Object:
Ocean City, New Jersey, located on the famed Cape May
peninsula of the state, has the reputation as being one of the
only alcohol-free -- "dry" -- towns on the northeast coast. And
although it has gained some of the boardwalk attractions that are
so characteristic of the Jersey shore, Ocean City remains a
beacon for Christians who come from all over the region for the
sacred concerts, church conferences, and evangelistic meetings
held at its large enclosed pier.
Just as it is true now, more than a century before the town was re-named from Peck's Island and gained its unique identity as a religious haven, merchant ships sailed past the fine light-gray sands of South Jersey. In the early days, the typical cargo below decks was rum and sugar. Some ships bore fine linen and lace. Others were laden with fruit from faraway ports. A few brought rare furniture.
Winter storms in the Atlantic Ocean are as feared as the hurricanes that can churn its waters any time from late June through October. Knowing the ferocity of wind and wave generated in these blasts, many captains had their ships "hug" the shoreline from December to March, so they would have a better chance of steering, in an emergency, for the relative safety of a protected inlet or river.
The practice of navigating in more shallow water in winter weather eventually extended into the spring, even when storms were not as ferocious as during the cold months or the hurricane season. This habit was always risky business, however. More than a few ships ran aground and broke up in the heavy surf. Others would strike the remains of another wreck and suffer the same fate.
And sometimes a ship would be "helped" straight to disaster.
"Mooncussers" and "wreckers" were the looters and thieves of the eighteenth-century New Jersey shore. On a stormy, moonless night, they would tie a lantern to a horse or mule and walk the animal along the sandy beach. Some captain or navigator at sea would interpret the moving light as another vessel, sailing closer to land, and maneuver the ship so as to follow it -- with disastrous results. In the confusion of sailors and officers attempting to save the cargo and themselves from the listing, sinking vessel, the scoundrel "mooncussers" and "wreckers" would move in and carry off whatever they wished, and be gone long before the authorities could arrive at the scene.
How unlike the cloudy, moonless, dim-lanterned light that the Peck's Island thieves used, as they moved unseen among the shadows, is the light of Jesus Christ. Hundreds of years before his birth, a prophet said: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them a light has shined" (Isaiah 9:2).
It is no mistake that Isaiah uses the word "great" when referring to the light that Messiah -- the Savior -- would bring.
* His was not to be a meager light.
* His was not to be a "dim and flaring lamp" by which to read God's righteous sentence.
* His was not to be an artificial light.
* His was not to be an illumination, a reflection of something or someone greater than itself.
As John the apostle would later say: "The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world" (John 1:9).
For so-called "enlightened" people living in an age of enlightenment, we sure do a lot of stumbling around in the dark. True, we have put a premium on education. A high school diploma isn't enough any more to land a well-paying job. In many cases, a bachelor's degree alone isn't enough. We have enhanced our educational standards. As a nation, our literacy rate is getting better. More of us are reading philosophical works than a generation ago. More of us are writing books that deal with the nature of existence.
So to our way of thinking, we've turned on the light. It appears, from our viewpoint, that we're seeing things quite clearly. We say we've never understood things quite like this before. We claim to have clarity of vision.
But in actuality, how we perceive the world without the true Light is roughly equivalent to trying to read with dark sunglasses at midnight in a room lit by a candle. It's as if we have taken Jesus' words -- "No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand ..." (Matthew 5:15) -- and turned them on their head. Because in spite of what we say about our quest for truth, there are a lot of us who want to be fooled. Yes, we are glad Jesus the Light has come. Because we love the joy and the peace of Christmas. We love the "warm fuzzies" of Christmas: carols queued up on the CD player, poinsettias at the windows, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and snow in the air.
We love the story of Jesus' birth as an innocent Babe, too. Adoring shepherds. Lowing cattle. A bright, guiding star. The lowly manger.
Problem is, we want Jesus to stay little. Cute and cuddly. Manageable. Innocuous. Non-threatening. Maybe we want the grown- up Jesus, if he conforms to our dictates. We want him to tell us about the kingdom of heaven. We want him to tell us about victory over death. We want him to tell us parables and stories that inspire and uplift. However,
* We do not want Jesus to tell us about the consequences of sin.
* We do not want him to tell us that Bethlehem's manger is so close to Jerusalem, you can almost see Golgotha from there.
* We do not want him to insist that we give up this or that precious, comfortable sin.
* We do not want Jesus to tell us that if we won't cling to his cross for dear life, then the gates of hell -- not heaven -- will shut upon our spirits for all eternity.
And if the "sweet little holy child" of Christmas will not remain fragile and dear, we will go elsewhere, to someone who's still warm and fuzzy. We want our itching ears tickled by soothe- sayers. We want someone who won't give us hard sayings and challenges as Jesus does. We want someone who isn't so tough. We want our fortunes told by stargazers -- provided that stars tell us of fame, fortune, and long life.
We want to be led again into the shadows.
The modern equivalent of a mooncusser or wrecker doesn't lead a mule carrying a lantern up the beach to entice unsuspecting ships to ground themselves. His business is to get you to follow the spotlight which he focuses on himself. The light's dazzling. Brilliant. Colorful. You express interest.
Then he throws you his best pitch. He claims you'll be rich! If you follow him, of course. You'll be healthy. You'll be wise. You'll have pleasure. You'll be transported to a higher level of mind. You'll attain your karma, your God-consciousness, your self-transcendence.
Just follow the moving light, please!
This day, one set of rules. Tomorrow, another set of regulations. A theology here. A theology there. Zigging and zagging from doctrine to doctrine. Shifting like the sand along which the light is dragged from one place to another. Winning smiles and glowing promises. False faces with which to hide from the truth which the naked light reveals.
... such boasters are false apostles, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ. And no wonder! Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is not strange if his ministers also disguise themselves as ministers of righteousness. Their end will match their deeds (2 Corinthians 11:13-15).
Do you doubt evil can masquerade as good? Do you doubt that darkness can present itself as light?
Ask the families of those who once followed someone who turned out to be an imposter.
He was a clever man. His excellent salesmanship was taken by many for sound preaching. He gave gave many people the impression that he was an evangelist for Jesus Christ. He quoted Scripture. He used biblical terms. He sang gospel songs. He had a pastoral style of leadership.
But what he taught his followers was not the Christian gospel. What Jones told the already poor, oppressed, disenfranchised, and disadvantaged was that if they followed him, gave him their time, their money, and their total allegiance (and, some said, their souls), then he would be their protector. He said he would fight the corrupt, satanic government system that was fighting against them. He said he would work to overthrow their oppressors.
And if necessary, he said, he would take them all to a land where no evil would ever be able to touch them again.
What he failed to tell his followers is that he was a greedy man. He wanted the accolades. He wanted the power. He wanted glory. Unlike the apostle who would not boast except in Christ Jesus, this deceiver wanted everyone to boast about his own accomplishments. He was not following the Christ, but was holding himself up before them as a savior, a redeemer. Not a savior in the sense that Jesus was the Savior, coming to save sinners from the condemnation of their eternal souls. Jones capitalized on poor people's anger over their poverty. He manipulated the gospel to make it seem as if redemption meant having political might. He offered them nothing more than, at best, temporary relief from their feelings of hopelessness.
But when every last one of his hundreds of followers -- men, women, and children -- were ordered by shotgun-toting cult officials to drink Kool-Aid laced with cyanide, Jim Jones showed himself for what he really was: a mooncusser, a wrecker who led the already-hurt and the gullible to their doom.
In contrast, Messiah's coming was to usher in the radiance of day. It would put darkness to flight. Where the old covenant was "the gospel concealed," the new covenant was "the gospel revealed."
That light would penetrate the shadows. It would reveal sin for what it was: a deep wound, festering in the dark, that grew into a gangrenous evil which threatened to poison the heart and soul of God's creation. It would be the cauterizing and healing laser light. And from the anticipated pain of this procedure we would begin to turn and flee in fear.
But the assuring voice of the Physician would arrest us. He would say, "It's got to be done. If you would be a person of the light ... if you would step out of the shadows ... if you would be whole ... if you would be rid of your fear about today and your anxiety about tomorrow, then it's got to be done."
I'm glad Scripture talks about the coming of Jesus as the Light. I'm glad it contrasts the light and the Light.
[John] came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world (John 1:7-9).
Personally, I am glad the gospel makes the differentiation, because I know myself too well. I'd go chasing after shooting stars, the sort of thing you find in the heavens above and on the earth beneath -- false prophets, astrological guides, superstars and megastars of sports and screen, deceitful preachers, and yes, even the star of Bethlehem -- unless I had Someone to tell me that they are only lesser lights, or mooncusser lights, not the true Light.
I am thankful that the Babe grew up to be the Man. I am thankful, too, that he was the Light.
* The Light showed the old wounds of sin.
* The Light revealed the secret intent of every heart.
* The Light interrupted hell's well-orchestrated plan.
* The Light penetrated even to the deeply-hidden corruption of dead religion.
The darkness fought back, in a vain attempt to drag the covers over itself once again. It tried to trap the Light in contradictions, but could not. It tried to prove the Light was not all he said he was, but could not. It tried to catch the Light in even a single false statement, but could not.
And even when the darkness tried to snuff out the flame of the light by taking its breath away on the cross, even when the darkness tried to bury the light, even when the darkness tried to seal the light in an airless tomb where it would bother its hellish plans no more, it could not.
Try as the darkness would to extinguish it, the Light never lost its fire: "[I]n him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it" (John 1:4-5).
Just as it is true now, more than a century before the town was re-named from Peck's Island and gained its unique identity as a religious haven, merchant ships sailed past the fine light-gray sands of South Jersey. In the early days, the typical cargo below decks was rum and sugar. Some ships bore fine linen and lace. Others were laden with fruit from faraway ports. A few brought rare furniture.
Winter storms in the Atlantic Ocean are as feared as the hurricanes that can churn its waters any time from late June through October. Knowing the ferocity of wind and wave generated in these blasts, many captains had their ships "hug" the shoreline from December to March, so they would have a better chance of steering, in an emergency, for the relative safety of a protected inlet or river.
The practice of navigating in more shallow water in winter weather eventually extended into the spring, even when storms were not as ferocious as during the cold months or the hurricane season. This habit was always risky business, however. More than a few ships ran aground and broke up in the heavy surf. Others would strike the remains of another wreck and suffer the same fate.
And sometimes a ship would be "helped" straight to disaster.
"Mooncussers" and "wreckers" were the looters and thieves of the eighteenth-century New Jersey shore. On a stormy, moonless night, they would tie a lantern to a horse or mule and walk the animal along the sandy beach. Some captain or navigator at sea would interpret the moving light as another vessel, sailing closer to land, and maneuver the ship so as to follow it -- with disastrous results. In the confusion of sailors and officers attempting to save the cargo and themselves from the listing, sinking vessel, the scoundrel "mooncussers" and "wreckers" would move in and carry off whatever they wished, and be gone long before the authorities could arrive at the scene.
How unlike the cloudy, moonless, dim-lanterned light that the Peck's Island thieves used, as they moved unseen among the shadows, is the light of Jesus Christ. Hundreds of years before his birth, a prophet said: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness -- on them a light has shined" (Isaiah 9:2).
It is no mistake that Isaiah uses the word "great" when referring to the light that Messiah -- the Savior -- would bring.
* His was not to be a meager light.
* His was not to be a "dim and flaring lamp" by which to read God's righteous sentence.
* His was not to be an artificial light.
* His was not to be an illumination, a reflection of something or someone greater than itself.
As John the apostle would later say: "The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world" (John 1:9).
For so-called "enlightened" people living in an age of enlightenment, we sure do a lot of stumbling around in the dark. True, we have put a premium on education. A high school diploma isn't enough any more to land a well-paying job. In many cases, a bachelor's degree alone isn't enough. We have enhanced our educational standards. As a nation, our literacy rate is getting better. More of us are reading philosophical works than a generation ago. More of us are writing books that deal with the nature of existence.
So to our way of thinking, we've turned on the light. It appears, from our viewpoint, that we're seeing things quite clearly. We say we've never understood things quite like this before. We claim to have clarity of vision.
But in actuality, how we perceive the world without the true Light is roughly equivalent to trying to read with dark sunglasses at midnight in a room lit by a candle. It's as if we have taken Jesus' words -- "No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand ..." (Matthew 5:15) -- and turned them on their head. Because in spite of what we say about our quest for truth, there are a lot of us who want to be fooled. Yes, we are glad Jesus the Light has come. Because we love the joy and the peace of Christmas. We love the "warm fuzzies" of Christmas: carols queued up on the CD player, poinsettias at the windows, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and snow in the air.
We love the story of Jesus' birth as an innocent Babe, too. Adoring shepherds. Lowing cattle. A bright, guiding star. The lowly manger.
Problem is, we want Jesus to stay little. Cute and cuddly. Manageable. Innocuous. Non-threatening. Maybe we want the grown- up Jesus, if he conforms to our dictates. We want him to tell us about the kingdom of heaven. We want him to tell us about victory over death. We want him to tell us parables and stories that inspire and uplift. However,
* We do not want Jesus to tell us about the consequences of sin.
* We do not want him to tell us that Bethlehem's manger is so close to Jerusalem, you can almost see Golgotha from there.
* We do not want him to insist that we give up this or that precious, comfortable sin.
* We do not want Jesus to tell us that if we won't cling to his cross for dear life, then the gates of hell -- not heaven -- will shut upon our spirits for all eternity.
And if the "sweet little holy child" of Christmas will not remain fragile and dear, we will go elsewhere, to someone who's still warm and fuzzy. We want our itching ears tickled by soothe- sayers. We want someone who won't give us hard sayings and challenges as Jesus does. We want someone who isn't so tough. We want our fortunes told by stargazers -- provided that stars tell us of fame, fortune, and long life.
We want to be led again into the shadows.
The modern equivalent of a mooncusser or wrecker doesn't lead a mule carrying a lantern up the beach to entice unsuspecting ships to ground themselves. His business is to get you to follow the spotlight which he focuses on himself. The light's dazzling. Brilliant. Colorful. You express interest.
Then he throws you his best pitch. He claims you'll be rich! If you follow him, of course. You'll be healthy. You'll be wise. You'll have pleasure. You'll be transported to a higher level of mind. You'll attain your karma, your God-consciousness, your self-transcendence.
Just follow the moving light, please!
This day, one set of rules. Tomorrow, another set of regulations. A theology here. A theology there. Zigging and zagging from doctrine to doctrine. Shifting like the sand along which the light is dragged from one place to another. Winning smiles and glowing promises. False faces with which to hide from the truth which the naked light reveals.
... such boasters are false apostles, deceitful workers, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ. And no wonder! Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is not strange if his ministers also disguise themselves as ministers of righteousness. Their end will match their deeds (2 Corinthians 11:13-15).
Do you doubt evil can masquerade as good? Do you doubt that darkness can present itself as light?
Ask the families of those who once followed someone who turned out to be an imposter.
He was a clever man. His excellent salesmanship was taken by many for sound preaching. He gave gave many people the impression that he was an evangelist for Jesus Christ. He quoted Scripture. He used biblical terms. He sang gospel songs. He had a pastoral style of leadership.
But what he taught his followers was not the Christian gospel. What Jones told the already poor, oppressed, disenfranchised, and disadvantaged was that if they followed him, gave him their time, their money, and their total allegiance (and, some said, their souls), then he would be their protector. He said he would fight the corrupt, satanic government system that was fighting against them. He said he would work to overthrow their oppressors.
And if necessary, he said, he would take them all to a land where no evil would ever be able to touch them again.
What he failed to tell his followers is that he was a greedy man. He wanted the accolades. He wanted the power. He wanted glory. Unlike the apostle who would not boast except in Christ Jesus, this deceiver wanted everyone to boast about his own accomplishments. He was not following the Christ, but was holding himself up before them as a savior, a redeemer. Not a savior in the sense that Jesus was the Savior, coming to save sinners from the condemnation of their eternal souls. Jones capitalized on poor people's anger over their poverty. He manipulated the gospel to make it seem as if redemption meant having political might. He offered them nothing more than, at best, temporary relief from their feelings of hopelessness.
But when every last one of his hundreds of followers -- men, women, and children -- were ordered by shotgun-toting cult officials to drink Kool-Aid laced with cyanide, Jim Jones showed himself for what he really was: a mooncusser, a wrecker who led the already-hurt and the gullible to their doom.
In contrast, Messiah's coming was to usher in the radiance of day. It would put darkness to flight. Where the old covenant was "the gospel concealed," the new covenant was "the gospel revealed."
That light would penetrate the shadows. It would reveal sin for what it was: a deep wound, festering in the dark, that grew into a gangrenous evil which threatened to poison the heart and soul of God's creation. It would be the cauterizing and healing laser light. And from the anticipated pain of this procedure we would begin to turn and flee in fear.
But the assuring voice of the Physician would arrest us. He would say, "It's got to be done. If you would be a person of the light ... if you would step out of the shadows ... if you would be whole ... if you would be rid of your fear about today and your anxiety about tomorrow, then it's got to be done."
I'm glad Scripture talks about the coming of Jesus as the Light. I'm glad it contrasts the light and the Light.
[John] came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world (John 1:7-9).
Personally, I am glad the gospel makes the differentiation, because I know myself too well. I'd go chasing after shooting stars, the sort of thing you find in the heavens above and on the earth beneath -- false prophets, astrological guides, superstars and megastars of sports and screen, deceitful preachers, and yes, even the star of Bethlehem -- unless I had Someone to tell me that they are only lesser lights, or mooncusser lights, not the true Light.
I am thankful that the Babe grew up to be the Man. I am thankful, too, that he was the Light.
* The Light showed the old wounds of sin.
* The Light revealed the secret intent of every heart.
* The Light interrupted hell's well-orchestrated plan.
* The Light penetrated even to the deeply-hidden corruption of dead religion.
The darkness fought back, in a vain attempt to drag the covers over itself once again. It tried to trap the Light in contradictions, but could not. It tried to prove the Light was not all he said he was, but could not. It tried to catch the Light in even a single false statement, but could not.
And even when the darkness tried to snuff out the flame of the light by taking its breath away on the cross, even when the darkness tried to bury the light, even when the darkness tried to seal the light in an airless tomb where it would bother its hellish plans no more, it could not.
Try as the darkness would to extinguish it, the Light never lost its fire: "[I]n him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it" (John 1:4-5).
