Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I just lay still and watch the light stream through the windows. It comes pouring in slowly and then all at once. The gentle rays touch the darkness around and bring a golden glow to it—and it vanishes. It washes back and forth, its brightness fighting with the clouds as it comes in and exits and comes in once more. Back and
forth. Yellow and golden it lights up my room and covers me. The light overshadows me. It captivates me, the movement of this light. It stirs desire in me: I want to be one with the Light.

And what astounds me all the more is that we know the Maker of this light. We know the One who touches hearts the way light does, the One who touches the bloody cavernous valleys of hearts astray and brings resurrection. We know the One who brings dead things to life. We know the One who comes in slowly and then all at once. We know the One who streams through the windows of souls and radiates truth, beauty, and goodness through the instruments of his saints. We know the One who is Love, who overshadows our humanity to bring grace. We know the One who brings Word to Life. We know the Maker of the light, and He dwells within us: the great Mystery.

And it brings me to my knees sometimes, because my God I want to be like this light. I am so unworthy of its gentle, glowing touch. I am so often unready to receive its beauty and yet still it comes and rushes in and does not wait for my consent. And thank God it doesn’t because maybe some days would be lived in utter darkness. And while the Maker of this light never goes where He is uninvited, He is always pouring grace out so that we might turn to Him with open hands: undeserved grace, freely given.

I want to be like the light. I want to stream through the windows of aching souls and touch darkness and make it light. I want to touch others with my words and my love and my heart. I want to bring newness to the aching and the broken and the distraught and the anxious and the needy and the impoverished and the lonely and the sick and the dying. Maybe my life can echo the anthem of the light.

But ultimately, I want to love the Maker of the light more than I love the light. I pray the light always leads me to Him, that every day I watch its gentle glow, I fall more and more in love with the Lover of my Soul. And by His grace I hope to always remain in the light, free of the darkness that once was our destiny. We don’t live in shadowed days anymore. Thank Him for the light, and turn to Him with a ready heart: receive His abundant love which pours out slowly and then all at once.