Teaching

First Sunday of Christmas

I will recount the gracious deeds of the Lord, the praiseworthy acts of the Lord, because of all that the Lord has done for us and the great favor to the house of Israel that he has shown them according to his mercy, according to the abundance of his steadfast love. 

(Isaiah 63:7)

The Light Shines in the Darkness 

One of my favourite lines in the Christmas story isn’t actually found in the traditional nativity scene at all—it’s in the beginning lines of John’s Gospel. Taking a different philosophical and illustrative direction, John writes, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5).” Those words feel especially relevant in our Manitoulin context, where seasonal darkness is not just an idea but something we literally feel each winter. Days become shorter and nights become longer. We travel down long rural routes where the absence of street lights can feel dark and foreboding in the space between our towns. The cold December winds cut through the doors and windows of our homes, finding a way into bones that need no reminder that winter has begun.  

But John isn’t simply talking about the dark sky, rural roads, and harsh winds. He’s talking about the parts of life that feel heavy, uncertain, overwhelming, isolating, and fearful—the darkness we all meet at different times. And his hopeful message is this: where there is light, darkness cannot overcome. Not because we are strong enough to fight it, but because light is stronger by nature.

I was reminded of this while watching The Rings of Power. There’s a moment when Celebrimbor (the Elf ring maker who has been deceived and tormented by the dark lord Sauron) says something quite profound to Galadriel as they wrestle with a growing internal and external darkness they can't seem to control. He says, echoing John's words, “It is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light.” This is another similar suggestion that darkness is not altered by force, but rather, by the presence of light itself. It is also a reminder that some things in life (like darkness) are unchanged, and possibly made worse, the harder we swing at them.

I think that's why John’s introductory comments—though void of familiar Christmas characters—still captures the heart of the Christmas story. God doesn’t enter the world with armies, power, or might. The Light arrives as a child—small, vulnerable, and unexpected—shining in the darkness.

We are fortunate to have homes with lights that eliminate darkness with little effort and a lot of convenience—well, except when the power goes out. But even then, I was reminded during our last power outage how well the light from a few small candles suppressed the darkness. It was a good reminder of how Christmas hope is kept alive also—when small lights continue to shine in dark seasons. Not by force, but by their belief that light is greater than darkness. And so, this time of year, we look for small lights in the darkness: for acts of kindness, self-sacrifice, generosity, courage, good cheer, and we look for ways to offer this back. These small lights matter. They add up. They push back more darkness than we realize.

This Christmas, my prayer is that we hold onto the promise John gives us: the light still shines, and the darkness has not overcome it. May this season bring you peace, hope, and just enough light to guide your way.