Turning Out the Lights to See the Light

Saskatchewan is called “The Land of Living Skies.” As a boy growing up in Regina, I did not know what this meant. For a few years, before moving to Alberta, we lived in a home that backed onto the number one highway where bright lights poured their yellow hues across city. Up and down our street were light standards and homes that kept their porch lights on. Layers of light and more light made it difficult to see the ‘living skies’ that our province was famous for.
Years later I moved back to Saskatchewan to study and lived in a small mobile home on the edge of a small town. It was there, especially on frozen dark nights, that I discovered these living skies. Every night felt like a showstopper. Without the flood of big city streetlights, the field behind my home was a front row seat for beauty. In the evening we would watch the sunsets, then we would wander out into the fields to take it the stars – others would set up telescopes. But everyone would stand in awe at the majestic dancing northern lights that surrounded us like a glowing curtain. They were right, these skies were alive.
The poet Malcolm Guite has said that there is a strange irony that some lights prevent you from seeing other lights. When we turn on street lights, we no longer see the stars. Or when we turn on the overhead lights, the glow of a candle disappears. This light ‘pollution’ floods our vision and can sometimes ruin a beautiful moment.
In this season of waiting before Christmas there is another kind of light pollution that floods into our lives. Malcolm Guite calls it a kind of “mental and spiritual light pollution.” Distractions and busyness often outshine those lights we need to pay attention to. The push and pull of life may stop us from recognizing the beauty and goodness found, albeit subtly, all around us.
The blast of Christmas celebrations are fun, but the story of Christmas requires a shift in perspective if we’re to see it clearly. If we’ve lived awhile under the bright lights of busyness and distraction, it can sometimes take a moment in the darkness for our eyes to adjust. To see our kids, our neighbours, our purposes, and our lives as God sees us, we need time to pause and wait.
Perhaps that is why the season before Christmas is about waiting and darkness. We call it Advent. After a long year of bright lights and blurred focus, perhaps we need to stop and be still before we are able to see the light that we’re trying to see. In order to see the Light, we need to step into the dark night in the same expectant way we step out into a field to see the stars.
This is why we put up small Christmas lights, light candles, and gather around tables with friends and family. This is why we worship together, sing old Christmas songs, and give gifts. These are all reminders of the light that God is lighting in each of us. They are a reminder to help you recognize when the Light of The World comes in beautiful and surprising ways to each of us.
May you enter this Christmas season with eyes adjusted to see the “Land of Living Skies” all around you. May you see your neighbours, your family, and yourself as you were made. May you know that out of waiting and darkness comes new light. May the Light find a home in you.