Sermon: "We Prefer Low-Lighting" March 14 2021
Preacher: The Rev. Ryan Slifka
Scripture: John 3:14-21
When we moved into our current house about a year and a half ago, the lighting in the dining room and living room was terrible. Three bulbs in two rooms. During the day it would be fine, but as soon as the sun went down you couldn’t see anything. Particularly irritating was sweeping the floor. You’d always miss something. Sometimes a lot of somethings. Which you know—could be a source of marital tension.
Soon enough, we upgraded. Nice new fixture in the living room, and this faux chandelier dangling over the dining room table. The chandelier made the biggest difference, with its five, 100watt bulbs. It was so bright you could do surgery on that table. Huge difference.
The problem, though, was that with the new light it wasn’t just the occasional dust bunny you could see. But every crumb, every stray hair. Every scratch on the hardwood, every crack in the wall. Every nick in the baseboards, every bump and brush stroke on the ceiling. You could see everything. And a lot of it wasn’t pretty. Of course, this meant we had a cleaner floor. But it also meant we could see things we didn’t wanna see, and especially things we didn’t want guests to see. Light is good, but sometimes it's too good.
Now by this point you might be wondering what this has to do with, say, God. Or anything, really. So let me explain.
Today’s passage is from the Good News According to John. It’s all about light. One thing about John’s bio of Jesus is that he says that Jesus is the light of the world. Jesus is the light of God’s eternal glory, the light of all people that’s touched down on earth, moved into the neighborhood. For John, Jesus is the tabernacle of God’s presence. You can imagine a white canvas tent lit up with a fire in the dark. Sounds good, sounds great, we love light. But listen to what Jesus says:
“And this is the judgment,” Jesus says. “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world. And people loved the darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.”
According to John, Jesus—as the eternal light of God—casts a divine radiance where ever he goes. But this isn’t only a satisfying beach sun. This light is also judgment. When people encounter Jesus, their secret sins are exposed, their misdeeds are brought out in the open. They are metaphorically naked before the glorious presence of the Living God. Their lives are an open book.
For some, it’s good. Encountering Jesus is emerging from a bunker after a month underground. The brightness hurts your eyes at first, and you have no idea what to expect above ground, if it’s safe or not, but then you’re just so grateful to be out of the dark that it just doesn’t matter. They stick around. They follow him.
For others, though, the light’s too much to take. The dark is a depressing place to be, but it’s safe. It’s known. Jesus is like that five bulb chandelier in my dining room. When he’s glowing, everything shows, including the stuff they don’t want anyone else to see. There’s nowhere to hide. It harkens back to Adam and Eve after eating the fruit of the garden. They’re ashamed, naked and fearful of God’s footsteps.[i] It’s like Nosferatu with the curtains drawn wide, it hurts. They run, they hide. They even lash out at Jesus. They’d do anything not to be seen by him. So they take that divine flame, and they smother it in permanent evening with a cross.
Now it’s easy to look back on Jesus and think that if we were the ones he came to things would have happened differently. We’d bask in the dawn of goodness, where others would have fled for a shadowy corner.
Maybe so. But not likely so. I mean, for one, most of Jesus’ disciples fled when it came down to crucifixion time. Either through betrayal, denial, or fear.
But vulnerability like this makes us nervous, too.
Poor lighting can be a helpful thing. It can hide poor housekeeping, and shortcomings in décor and furniture. But it can also conceal crimes. It can cover our misdeeds, and keep our transgressions out of sight.
Think of our collective life on the internet. On one hand, we’re lurking around in the shadows of our anonymity. We’re buying things and watching things that we’d prefer even our closest friends never find out about. Sending texts behind the backs of our spouses. We’re making comments and postings that might ruin our future job prospects. And on the other hand, we’re searching high and low for dirty secrets to expose and destroy the wicked with.
Of course, the internet is just a hyper-ized version of our ordinary habits and psyches. There are a lotta things we’d rather remain hidden from prying eyes. Surreptitious sins, deeply-seeded shame. Thoughts and desires that we could never share with anyone. Even stuff that if it got out might ruin us.
Light can be good, for sure. But too much light. Well, that can be scary. It can be painful, threatening. Dangerous. Like those who Jesus drove to duck and cover, we all have a few spaces we’d rather remain unilluminated. Things we’d rather keep people in the dark about. Lest they be brought to light. Lest we be exposed by the buzzing bulb of the truth.
The worst part is, though, that as much as we want to, we can’t actually hide any of it. Not a speck of dust or hair, or nick or scratch.
Like the Psalmist says, “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there,” too.[ii] The invisible lamp of divine glory shines in every nook and cranny of creation. We can’t hide any of it. God already knows every thought. God already sees everything we’ve done. Our lives are already exposed in their entirety to our Maker. Like the ol’ gospel song says:
Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand
Workin' in the dark against your fellow man
But as sure as God made black and white
What's down in the dark will be brought to the light.[iii]
There’s no place dark enough to hide in the whole stretch of the universe. Nor in the depth of our own hearts. Ain’t no use in even tryin’.
Now, before you start to squirm in your seat, or get worried that fire and brimstone’s comin’ your way. I want you to know something. It’s true. With God it’s all out in the open. Nowhere to run or hide. The Good News, though, is that this is actually Good News. It’s good news on account of the One who sees us.
You see, before John warns about the people who do evil and love the dark and the people who do good and love the light, he shares one of the best known pieces of scripture. People put it on bumper stickers, and paint it on signs at football games.
“For God so loved the world,” Jesus says. “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but may have eternal life.” Now, often this is used as something of a threat for non-believers and non-Christians. Rewards for belief, punishments for unbelief. But that’s usually because folks don’t usually continue on to verse 17. “Indeed,” Jesus continues. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that it might be saved through him.”
According to John, Jesus came out of God’s love for the whole world, even—especially—those opposed to God and God’s good purposes. He came not to round up the guilty and reward the good. “Those who are well have no need of a physician,” Jesus says elsewhere. “I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”[iv] Jesus came for those of us who are already perishing.
You see, we spend our whole lives running and hiding from the truth. Tucking what we’ve done away from prying eyes. Shoving our sin and shame away in the dank windowless basement of our souls. Deluding ourselves, justifying ourselves, lashing out, outta fear that if it’s true or if we get caught, that’s the end for us. We’re like Gollum in the Lord of the Rings, so accustomed to the gloom of fear and shame that we can’t imagine that the sun will do anything but destroy us.
But if John’s right, God’s not searching out our sins to punish us. If the true God is revealed in Jesus, it means that our lives are not exposed as a way to shore up the court case against us. The face that sees us is not the face of the internet troll brigade, diggin’ up dirt to engineer a celebrity downfall. The face that sees us is the face of Jesus Christ. The divine Son, who gives his life out of love on the cross for the sake of the whole world. The perfect image of a loving Father, caring Mother, a devoted friend.
If John’s right, there is One who sees who we truly are, One who knows our well-kept, perfectly manicured public side, but also the absolute worst. Not to ruin or destroy, but for the sake of love, for our freedom. And the chance to start all over again. The light that shines is not an enemy spotlight in support of a machine-gun nest of condemnation. No, this light is like bleaching away mold by bringing it into direct sunlight. It’s like the glow of a hot iron cauterizing a fatal wound. This light is for the purpose of salvation. It doesn’t mean that our inward lives are nothing but baby laughs and spring flowers. They’re not, and we know that. It’s not that everything we’ve done is not that bad, or somehow just ok. It’s not. We know that, too. It just means that none of it needs to be deadly anymore.
If John’s right. Then the fact that we are seen and we are known in our entirety is no cause for alarm. Instead, it’s good news. The light shines for our forgiveness, for the healing of your life and mine. For the healing of our world, and for the sake of eternal life. We condemn ourselves out of fear of being found out. We cling to the darkness when we try to hide who we are. But if John’s right… then it means we don’t have to be this way. As scary as it may be we can be honest about our lives, about our sins, our shame and our shortcomings because we know who’s on the judgment seat. “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”[v] Bright, and as painful as it may be, we can rest assured that the only light that shines is divine grace.
Friends, brothers and sisters in Christ. Know that you are seen in your entirety—the good and the bad. Know that you are known completely, all things noteworthy and all things shameful. And most importantly—know that you are loved, and you are forgiven. Because God has sent the Son not to condemn but to save. Be not afraid, or ashamed. Leave the darkness and step into the light, because there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.[vi] Look upon him and live.[vii]
AMEN.
[i] Genesis 3:9-10.
[ii] Psalm 139:8.
[iii] Elvis Presley, “Run On,” in How Great Thou Art (RCA Records, 1967). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJlN9jdQFSc
[iv] Mark 2:17.
[v] 1 Corinthians 4:6.
[vi] Romans 8:1.
[vii] This passage in John connects Jesus’ crucifixion to the serpent on a pole that God commands Moses to construct in Numbers 21:8, which is a symbol of the people’s forgiveness for their sins.