4 Counterintuitive Truths About Light, Darkness, and Real Change
Introduction: From a Power Outage to a Deeper Truth
Imagine a storm hits in the middle of the night. The power cuts out, plunging your home into a disorienting, absolute blackness. You find yourself wandering around, banging your toes on furniture, fumbling for a flashlight or a book of matches. And then, just when the cold and silence feel permanent, you hear it—a low hum as the electricity returns, a small sound of hope as the lights flicker back to life.
This physical darkness mirrors a deeper, metaphorical darkness we all encounter in life—in our communities, in the world, and even within ourselves. We’re often taught to fight this darkness head-on, to oppose it with all our might. But what if our conventional ideas about light and darkness are incomplete? What if the most profound change comes from truths that seem, at first, entirely counterintuitive?
1. "Repentance" Isn't About Groveling—It's About Changing Your Mind.
For many, the word "repent" conjures images of shame, guilt, and self-flagellation. It feels like a heavy, negative command focused on what we’ve done wrong. However, the word's original meaning is far more empowering and practical.
The Greek verb translated as "repent" fundamentally means "to change one's mind and way of thinking." It literally means "to think differently afterwards." This isn't about groveling in shame; it's about a radical reorientation of your entire being. It is a mental shift that naturally leads to a behavioral one—the conscious choice to turn and walk toward the light of God rather than away from it. This dual action is captured in the vows of baptism, where individuals are asked both to turn away from evil and to turn to Jesus. Repentance, then, is less about punishment and more about a profound, liberating change of direction.
2. The Most Insidious Darkness Can Be Moral Self-Righteousness.
We often assume that the most dangerous darkness is obvious immoral behavior. But a more subtle and insidious form can be the judgment that comes from a place of moral self-righteousness. The tragic story of Vitalis of Alexandria, an ancient holy man, is a powerful illustration.
In his later years, Vitalis, known for his piety, began exhibiting strange behavior. He would perform manual labor all day, and at night, he would take his wages and visit a brothel. The "righteous people" of the city watched him, concluding he was a fake and judging him for his apparent hypocrisy. One day, after years of this routine, someone who believed Vitalis was immoral attacked him and beat him. Shortly after, the old man died. Only then did the women he had visited come forward to tell the truth. Vitalis had never touched them. He gave them his wages so they wouldn't have to work that night, told them of God's love, and quietly helped them find new lives and jobs. He had sworn them to secrecy to protect his work.
The story reveals two kinds of darkness at play: the darkness of immoral behavior, which is real, and the fatal darkness of moral self-righteousness. The judgment of the "righteous" didn't just lead to a misunderstanding; it led to violence and the death of a saint. Indignation without understanding, knowledge, or mercy is its own lethal form of blindness.
3. To Embrace the Light, You Must First Let It Expose What's Broken.
It's a strange paradox: to move toward the light, we must first be willing to let that light expose our own darkness—our sickness, our weakness, our sin. This can feel uncomfortable, but it is the only path to true healing.
Think of it like visiting a doctor. You go to a doctor to help you see what’s wrong. The doctor often uses bright lights and instruments that can be intrusive or even painful, but it is for your ultimate good. The light's purpose is not to condemn, but to reveal what needs healing. St. Paul's conversion is a dramatic example of this. On his way to Damascus to oppose the light of Christianity, he was literally knocked down by a great light. He was then made to endure a period of physical darkness—blindness—that was a necessary part of his transformation. But his sight wasn't restored by magic; it was restored through the courageous action of another. A follower of Jesus in Damascus named Ananias, who knew Paul was a zealot coming to kill his people, was told in a prayer to go heal his enemy. In a faithful and brave act of light dispelling darkness, Ananias went to the man who came to destroy him, laid hands on him, and restored his sight.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that.
— Martin Luther King Jr.
This famous quote reinforces the principle. We cannot simply ignore our internal darkness or fight it with more of the same. We must have the courage to bring what's broken into the light, where it can finally be addressed and healed by a touch of grace.
4. Bringing Light Isn't Complicated: Just Show Up.
The idea of "fighting darkness" or "making a difference" can feel abstract and overwhelming. What can one person really do? The answer is surprisingly simple: you just show up.
Consider the advice given to a group of eighth-grade boys wondering what to do when a friend's father passes away. They feel pressure to find the right words, but they often stay away for fear of saying the wrong thing. The most powerful thing they can do is to simply be there. You don't need a grand speech; you just need to show up. This principle of active presence is at the heart of how Jesus began his ministry. According to the Gospel of Matthew, his actions were tangible and straightforward:
He went for a walk by the Sea of Galilee.
He found people and invited them to join him.
He was teaching, proclaiming, and healing.
These are not complex strategies. They are simple activities that anyone can emulate in their own way—taking a walk in your neighborhood, inviting someone into your life, or offering a healing presence. This same spirit of persistence applies to any great work. Thomas Edison reportedly conducted 2,774 experiments to perfect the light bulb. He saw each failure not as a setback, but as a necessary step in the process. He didn’t have the answer at the beginning, but he kept showing up to the workshop.
Conclusion: Let It Shine
Welcoming the light into our lives and the world is not a single, monumental event. It is an active, ongoing process made up of small, intentional choices: the choice to change our minds, to withhold judgment, to face our own weaknesses, and to simply show up for others.
In C.S. Lewis's The Last Battle, a group of dwarves sits huddled together in what they are convinced is a dark, dingy stable. In reality, they are in a beautiful, sunlit field, but they have so thoroughly convinced themselves of the darkness that they cannot be persuaded otherwise. The light is all around them, but they refuse to see it.
We are reminded of children singing "This Little Light of Mine," holding up a single finger to represent their light. That one small gesture stands for a single act of kindness, a moment of presence, a choice to be gracious. What is the one act of kindness, the one finger of light, that you will choose to let shine today?
