(First published January 13, 2010)

My office is always dark. The blinds are usually open but the overhead lights are off. They give me headaches.

I suppose, however, I shouldn’t say “always”. The other day, for example, I wanted to look deep inside a broken video camera.

I turned on the lights. All of them. It was the only way that I could clearly see what I needed to fix.

There are other times I need bright lights. In order to read, which is how I learn, I need to see the words. I need light. To figure out what color my socks are, I need light. To see how much antifreeze is in Andrew’s old car, I need light.

Sometimes I don’t like light because I’m trying to hide. However, when I know something is broken, I want the light in order to fix it, to accurately assess the problem and to see what can be done to resolve it.

After talking about the Word, John starts talking about the Light, about life-giving, inexplicable light. It isn’t a passive goodness, it’s active. It isn’t just condemning, it’s clarifying.

And it isn’t just the vague goodness of people.

That’s why John mentions another John (the one we know as the baptizer). John was a Good Person. He did good things. He denounced bad things, including religious hypocrisy. No one ever accused him of compromise or accommodation. He was focused on living as right as he could and of calling other people to do the same.

And yet, he wasn’t the light.

Think of a projection screen. It looks white. until you dim the lights and shine a bright white light on it. The parts of the screen without light, still white, look dark.

That’s what happens when the Light comes.

Even good isn’t bright.