The other day, I looked at a list of the most common phobias and realized I have, or have had, many of them during the course of my life. For instance, acrophobia … the fear of heights. When we were in Seattle and went up to the top of the iconic Space Needle, I was uneasy and my body tingled the entire time—I couldn’t want to get back to the ground. Aerophobia is the fear of flying, and it’s estimated one-third of all adults experience this at some level. Arachnophobia—the fear of spiders—and claustrophobia—the fear of confined, closed-in places—are very widespread, common fears. But the phobia that plagued me most as a child was one called nyctophobia—the fear of the dark. I hated the dark! I used to have a night light plugged into the outlet near my bed that dispelled enough darkness enough to help me relax so I could go to sleep.
It’s against that background I want to consider Jesus’s statement “I am the light of the world” … the only one of his “I am” statements that is recorded twice … in John 8:12 and again in John 9:5. His “I am” statements hark back to when God appeared to Moses in the burning bush. When Moses saw the flames of fire, he wanted to get a closer look but was told to remove his sandals because he was standing on holy ground. When Moses asked God about His name, the Lord answered in Exodus 3:14, “I am who I am.” Every time Jesus used one of the “I am” metaphors, He was emphatically stating that he was God. And those who heard Him—particularly those of Jewish origin—didn’t miss the connection He was making. That’s why the Jewish leaders trumped up charges and conspired to have him arrested, tried, and crucified.
In Jesus’ day, darkness was often used as a metaphor for fear and evil. Remember, also, that Jesus lived in a day before the invention of electricity and the light bulb to where, when the sun went down, the only way to obtain light was via a candle or a lantern—a means that was often rather difficult and costly. Light was something you had during the day and, after the sun set, you often had no choice but to wait until it returned the next morning.
When I was in my graduate program, our cohort went to Kenya for ten days. While we spent most of our time in Nairobi, we traveled out into the bush for a couple of days to tour a mission and school that ministered out to the indigenous people of the area. It was an area with no electricity which meant that, when the sun went down, it got dark—no porchlights or streetlights, no taillights from traffic because there was no traffic—not even a fire from an adjacent village burning on the horizon. It was just dark! Now, that makes for a brilliant celestial display at night. But other than that, it was just dark—exceptionally, extraordinarily dark!
There are a number of points of application we can make from this word picture of Jesus being the light of the world. But to more fully understand, we need to consider the context in which he made this statement. As I mentioned, John records Jesus making this statement twice—in chapter eight and chapter nine. When he says “I am the light of the world” in chapter nine, it’s in the context of the account of the healing of a man born blind. As you recall, there was a lively discussion amongst those present as to whose sin was responsible for his blindness—him or his parents. The belief was if you were dealing with some debilitating issue such as this, someone had sinned. And darkness would have been seen as being synonymous with blindness. For Jesus to claim to be the light of the world and then heal this man who’d been born blind … there’s a natural connection between his statement and that event.
But in chapter eight the context is trickier, for it comes on the heels of Jesus’ encounter with the woman caught in the act of adultery. The account concludes in v. 11 with him not condemning her but challenging her to step away from her sinful past, and then in v. 12 he makes this statement. The shift seems rather abrupt. There doesn’t seem to be an identifiable thread that connects these two accounts. But it seems what John is doing is highlighting how people relate to others when their lives are shrouded by darkness … how they behave when they’re blind to their own shortcomings and character deficiencies. The Pharisees, who brought the woman to Jesus, weren’t interested in her. They weren’t interested in justice. Their only interest was in trapping Jesus. They were trying to get him to say or do something they could use against him, and she was merely the means to an end … an object … a pawn in a hurtful, sanctimonious game. Now they’d have told you they were decrying sexual immorality and trying to stand up for decency and righteousness, but don’t be fooled—they were all about trapping Jesus … and they were so caught up in that pursuit they were blind to their own motives. They thought they were doing the world a favor, but they were actually displaying their own ignorance and cluelessness. And in contrast to their tactlessness and insensitivity, Jesus said, “I’m the light of the world”—i.e., I can help you see things about yourself to where you don’t treat people this way.
So … what is it about light that prompts Jesus to use this metaphor? What are its properties that would compel Him to make this comparison? A number of points of application come to mind.
The first thing, and perhaps most obvious, is that light dispels darkness. Darkness isn’t the presence of something so much as it is the absence of something—namely the absence of light. Turn on the flashlight on your cell phone in a room that’s pitch black and the darkness will immediately recede. It’s automatic; it happens without any effort or striving or exertion. It doesn’t matter how dark it is, light will always prevail. As the old proverb goes, “There isn’t enough darkness in the world to extinguish the light of a single candle.” In fact, the more intense and extreme the darkness, the more brilliant and magnificent the light. Light breaks the darkness.
But it not only breaks and dispels the darkness—it also reveals. Darkness conceals, but light reveals. It reveals not only those things that have been shrouded in darkness—those things that have been there the entire time but we weren’t able to discern and pick up on—but it also reveals the reality of the darkness in the first place. I think this is the reason a lot of people keep their distance from church … because they know that if they put themselves in a setting where the light of Jesus is welcomed and embraced, it will expose the impropriety of the way they’ve been living. For that’s what light does—it reveals!
In addition, light gives life. I remember learning in school about photosynthesis—the process by which plants transform energy from the sun into nutrients they need to survive. Photosynthesis enables plants to absorb sunlight which allows them to synthesize food from carbon dioxide and water. It’s the presence of light that sets this whole process in motion. Remove the light and the plant will die. In comparison, those things that grow in the dark tend to be bad for you—fungi … algae … cancer. Light gives life—in the physical realm and in the spiritual realm. John picked up on the connection between light and life when he said of Jesus in the introductory verses to his gospel, “In him was life, and that life was the light of men” (John 1:4). The light Jesus brought to the world endowed those who embraced it with a manner of life that eclipsed anything they’d ever known.
Light is also distinctive. When you encounter light, you know exactly what it is. I’ve never heard someone who sees a light off on the horizon say, “Is that a light, or is that … whatever? They may not know what the source of the light is—whether it’s coming from a campfire or an oncoming train—but it’s obvious it’s light. I mean, what in the world could you possibly confuse with light? It is undeniable and distinctive, which says something about the manner of life those of us who claim to be followers of Jesus should be evidencing. People may not be able to put a finger on why it’s the case, but there should be a distinctiveness about us that is winsome and captivating and appealing. Light, by its very nature is distinctive. And when it is embraced by someone, it shows up in their life.
Closely related to that is the fact light attracts. Have you ever seen what moths do when you’re sitting out on your patio during the evening hours? The light attracts them. By its very nature, light draws our attention.
I remember, as a kid, my brother and I were out in the car one night with my dad when he ran out of gas. Given this was before the day of cell phones, what did dad do? He walked to a nearby house. But which house did he walk to? To one that had a porch light on. The presence of the light attracted him—made him believe those folks were still up and could and would help. Sure enough they were. He used their phone, called a friend who showed up with a gas can, put enough gas in the tank to get us to a station, and we were able to fill up the car and drive home successfully.
Light also guides. If you’ve flown on an airplane that’s arriving after dark, you know there are lights along the runway that help to guide it down successfully. That why at key places along our nation’s shoreline there are lighthouses that help with nautical navigation. Many of the buoys in a bay will have solar lights that assist vessels with staying in the appropriate shipping lane so they won’t run aground. That’s why, at church camp, you carry a flashlight so that after hours, when you’re trying to make you way back to your cabin from the activity you had down by the lakefront, you can stay on the path and get there without twisting your ankle. If you’ve ever tried to walk in the dark—particularly in an unfamiliar place—you know how difficult it is. The presence of light guides us … helps us stay on the right path and exposes obstacles that could potentially trip us up.
One more thing about light—it expands only as it’s passed along. If you’ve been at a Christmas Eve service, you know precisely how this works. At the end of the service, the room is dark and just the Advent candles are burning. But then the pastor will go over and light his candle from the Christ candle and then light the candles of those in front row, and they will pass their light to those next to them and immediately behind them to where, by the time the singing of Silent Night ends, the room is much, much brighter. With every candle that is lit, the light becomes much more apparent. By the same token, Jesus entrusted his light to his apostles who passed it on to various people in the communities they traveled to who passed it on to their families and people in the next generation to where, down through the ages, the light has, like the Olympic flame, remained aglow for almost 2000 years.
Which brings me to one final point as it relates to light—unless the light serves its purpose, it has no value. If it’s hidden or concealed, it can’t do its job. Think with me: What do you do with a burned out light bulb or fluorescent tube? You throw them away. You don’t collect them or hang on to them hoping that someday they’ll decide to do what they were meant to. You get rid of them and replace them with one that works. For a light that doesn’t serve its purpose has no value. A light that doesn’t do what it’s designed to do is something to be disposed of.
And remember … Jesus didn’t just say that he was the light. He also, in the Sermon on the Mount, said “we are the light of the world” … that this planet is a dark place and all these things he does and functions he serves is what we’re supposed to do, and the function we’re supposed to serve, in our day and amidst the people we rub shoulders with. In fact he said, “Who lights a light and then places it under a bowl to where it can’t do what it’s supposed to do? The very purpose of the light is to illuminate … to dispel darkness … to attract and guide and bring life to things. To restrict the light—to prevent it from functioning the way it was meant to function—is to render it useless and of no value.
Jesus said he was the light of the world … that his job was to highlight the character and heart of God so that people could understand and, ultimately, come to know Him and experience for themselves everything He has to offer. But he also said that we are the light of the world—which means that people should be able to encounter God by the way we behave and how we carry and conduct ourselves.