“This little light of mine; I’m gonna let it shine. . . “
I loved this song when I was a little girl. We sang it in Sunday school, and I loved the hand motions that went along with it. We’d cup our hands around an imaginary candle as if we were protecting the most precious light in the world. When we got to the verse that says, “Won’t let Satan blow it out; I’m gonna let it shine,” we would huff and puff at the imaginary candle in our hands and shake our heads emphatically. Because we would NOT let Satan blow out our light. I loved the idea that there was a light inside of me shining for Jesus that I would never let Satan extinguish. It seemed so easy then—I had a light, and I would let it shine, no matter what.
But I grew up and forgot about the song. I didn’t protect that light. And it did almost get blown out. To me, that light was hope, and I came very close to losing it. Day after day spent mired in the darkness that I had created for myself dampened my light of hope until it was barely a flicker. I had never needed light more than when I was stuck in addiction and depression; I had also never had less light. There were even days when I prayed that the little tiny birthday candle of light inside of me would just go out. Life without hope was too hard.
On one of the darkest days of my life—addicted, depressed, sick in body and mind, and so broken—I cried out to God and begged Him to help me out of the prison I had made for myself. I was on my knees, crying, feeling my heart break yet again—and I heard Him whisper, “Look up, Renee. I’m not finished with you yet. Get up off the floor and let Me be your light of hope.” I remember holding my hands up and responding, “Then help me. I can’t do this anymore. There’s only darkness, and I don’t see any way out.” And my eyes landed on my Bible on a shelf in front of me. The Bible was covered in dust; I hadn’t opened it in years. I took it off the shelf, laid it in my lap and just held it for a while. There was comfort simply in holding this book that had once been such a treasured friend.
When I opened it, I saw a verse I had marked years and years before: “What is bruised and bent, He will not break; He will not blow out a smoldering candle.” (Isaiah 42:3) I sat and stared at this verse. I felt so bruised and broken—I felt like a shell of a person. A shell without light. Without hope. And that “little light of mine” was hardly even smoldering anymore. But this verse told me that none of that mattered. God would not let me break. He wouldn’t let my light go out. And as I read and reread those words, I felt something stirring in my soul—something that I remembered from years ago. It was the tiniest flicker of hope. I held my Bible to my chest and prayed as I never had before. The flame began to grow. And with every right choice I made from that moment on, it got brighter and brighter. I was no longer hope-less. I was hope-full.
My light still flickers. Sometimes it burns very low. Edith Wharton wrote, “There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” I don’t have enough strength on my own to have a bright and steady light all the time. But I can reflect God’s. John 8:12 says, “Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, ‘I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.’” Oh, the hope this gives me! “You won’t have to walk in darkness. . .” For so many years, I felt like I did have to walk in darkness. I felt doomed to a life without light and hope. And all that time, I didn’t have to live that way. I could have let the Light of the world light me up. I could have reflected His light. That “little light of mine” is mine only in that it was inside of me. The light is His. And His light is constant. It burns when I can’t. It illuminates even when I don’t feel any hope.
If you’re feeling hopeless and all you see is darkness, look up. There’s light there. Ask for it. God will ignite a spark of hope in your soul. Cling to that tiny spark even if all you see is darkness. Keep asking for more hope and more light. And get ready for a bonfire—because when God moves, He moves.
“Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. . . “
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This is so inspiring to me. I love the concept that even in times when you feel like your light is nearly snuffed out, you can always reflect God’s light. It’s so comforting to know that God’s light always shines brightly and constantly.
Oh, my Monty–thank you. You inspire ME, endlessly.
Thank you for this wonderful piece of writing— yes Jesus is the Light of the world and the darkness can never contain Him– and so with you– the light He has placed in you never went out, even as you could not find it or detect it– it was hidden within you soul somewhere deep and it needed some soul reaching and searching to find it again— something God sometimes allows for His own purposes. The smallest star comes in the middle of the night at its darkest hour– it comes to signal the new morning and pulls the darkness behind itself and takes it away. Ever read ” The Shack”?
Thank YOU, Klara. Your comment is its own beautiful piece of writing! I especially like the image of the star. Yes, I’ve read “The Shack” and watched the movie and absolutely loved both. It gave me a new perspective on so many things. I assume you’ve read it?
Yes I did and just re-read it this week– I love it and am constantly reminded that our image of God is so skewed in so many ways–perhaps mine not so much as my thinking process takes me a very different direction most times, I am not bound by the many narrow boundaries of others who believe. I actually want to to re write a few sentences of the book to one off our pastors? I am never one for keeping quiet when my soul is disturbed by what I feel as control!
Yes– the star bit is something from a sermon many moons ago and I actually have a vivid mental image of it in my heart.It is the star Venus if I am right that come in the darkest moment of the night and pulls the darkness along with it as it works its way toward dawn–imagine it in an artistic way– amazing in all of its ways!
I totally understand what you mean about “The Shack.” And your image of Venus–wow. Everything about that appeals to me–it sounds like poetry in motion. “Pulling the darkness with it as it works its way towards dawn”–what an incredible image of hope! Thank you for sharing that with me.
Maybe one day write my story or start a blog about what goes on in my mind as I struggle to understand the world in which I live–I have written short stories for my church many moons ago, that along with poetry and how I see this world of mine and yours. I once bought a cross in the shape of a star which I had around my neck when he gave that particular sermon and gave to the pastor right there and then after he finished his sermon– I kind of want it back now????
Oh, Klara, I would love to read your story, however you choose to write it. Your art and poetry has certainly blessed me. As I’m sure your necklace blessed your pastor. . .
Another wonderful post! Such healing power to me this morning! I pray you are planning on putting these kind of posts in some kind of a devotional; the world needs to hear your words just as much as I do; thanks for being so real…so you…and for helping me so much. I have much to pray about today after reading these words! love you always!!!!
Thank you, Lisa. I’m so glad that this helped you today–because your comment and words certainly did that for me. Love you–so very much.