The "Lesser" Light

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I have long been fascinated with lighthouses and celestial navigation. One of the most expensive framed prints I have in my house is of a wave crashing against a lighthouse, and one of the most expensive pieces of scrimshaw I own is a 1:85 scale model of the USS Constitution. Over the past several weeks, they have come up in conversation for several reasons as I watched “Pete’s Dragon” discussed my next trip to the Jersey shore to see old lighthouses, and as we talked about the moon and stars guiding struggling seamen.

Away from the shore in the dark of the night, the seaman relies on the “lesser light”. It is enough to steer him along the course that leads him safely home, allows him to make the turns, and warns him against the dangers to his seafaring journey. In that moment, being a “lesser light” does not make it less important or useful or valuable; it refers to the ability of that light to counter the darkness.

The moon casts a powerful light on many nights. I have hiked in the desert when the moon was so clear and so bright and so full that I could see insects scatter on the path around me. It is after all a reflection of the Sun, the same original and perfectly bright source, bounced back as the best approximation of which the moon is capable. Just like the moon reflects the sun, God invites our lives to reflect the light of the Son to those that sit in darkness. He knows we are not perfect, and He also knows that the full strength of His light might be too much just as the noon-day sun is after you’ve watched “Return of the King” in the dark cinema. It is enough to invite people to come to the light, to look forward to the light, and to embrace it when it comes to its full. Our example can be enough to encourage men to repentance.

Perhaps you feel as I do that you are a “lesser light”. Maybe you wonder, as I do, if the mistakes of your life have caked too much dirt onto the lens so as to obfuscate the beam. Maybe the storm of doubt is so strong that you cannot pull up enough fire to light the wick of testimony.  Maybe you don’t think that your light matters or that anyone is out there or that they’ll be able to see you when other people seem to be much better lights. Maybe the world has cried so loudly about your humanity that you can only see that you are less than you ought to be. To the lost, the lonely, and the looking, your light will be bright enough. To them, no matter how it flickers or falters or fails, it is a glorious and wonderful sight. If God wanted all men to have a perfect guide across the shoals and in the storms of life, He would guide them all Himself in the perfect light of day. However, He invites us to help Him and be the miracle in the lives of other people.

I love the words of a hymn all but forgotten that I used to sing in college:

Brightly beams our Father’s mercy from His lighthouse evermore, But to us He gives the keeping of the lights along the shore. Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor struggling, sinking sailor you may rescue, you may save.
Dark the night of sin has settled, loud the angry billows roar; Eager eyes are watching, longing, for the lights, along the shore. Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Eager eyes are watching, longing, for the lights, along the shore.
Trim your feeble lamp, my brother, some poor sailor tempest tossed, Trying now to make the harbor, in the darkness may be lost. Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Trying now to make the harbor, some poor sailor may be lost.

God’s light is perfect. It is always enough and to spare. Sometimes, we set out to worlds unknown and places far from the safety of the shore. In those times, we rely on people to set a light on the shore and keep it to guide us home when we are ready to return. In those times, God invites us to help Him save men, inviting us to trust that if we provide the best approximation of His light of which we are capable that He will make it useful work.  When that time comes, the seekers do, as the poet wrote, eagerly watch the shore for whatever lesser light they may be able to spot. I know that you are not perfect, because I know my weaknesses more intimately than any other mortal, but to the lost, the lonely, and the longing, your feeble lamp may save a soul.

Fear not if your lamp be feeble or dark as long as you can manage a spark.
Away from the shore in the dark of the night, the seaman relies on the “lesser light”. -me