Matthew 4:12-16
Now when he heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee. And leaving Nazareth he went and lived in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
“The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles— the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned.”
Jesus Christ is the light of the world who has come to obliterate the darkness, to demolish the blackness of sin and the gloom of death. His light is hope for the lost, liberation from blindness, and the morning after a nightmare.
Once as a boy, I did one of those juvenile things boys stupidly will do. As a kind of initiation, I slithered with a couple of friends down a storm drain that fed off into a huge sewer intended to carried rain water off the San Gabriel mountains above our homes in Altadena, California. Each of us lay down in the street gutter and squirmed our way quite a few feet underground until dropping ourselves into the massive tile which must have been at least eight feet high. We had no flashlight and had to hold each other’s outstretched hands to grope along in pitched darkness.
As I remember it, Mike Geibel was touching one side wall and maybe Steve Perry the other. One or two others of us walked in the middle. It was so black that our eyes never adjusted. There was no light whatsoever. I worried about possible drop-offs. Thank God it didn’t start to rain. An awful lot of water can come off those mountains, and this was no minor storm pipe.
I don’t know how far we walked. It seemed a long way. We certainly weren’t going to be doing any slithering out the way we came in. Any other street conduits, if we could have seen them, were high on the wall. I had my eyes wide open, but eyes, open or shut, don’t produce light.
But that night I saw a great light. Suddenly ahead of us, I saw a vivid brightness. How great it was to see a beam so propitious. We guys walked straight toward it. It was an auroral and striking light. And then we walked out into the dry reservoir.
Know what? It was near midnight, but until then I hadn’t realized how bright even starlight is. From the region and shadow of death even the glint of a single star gives hope.
To the land of Zebulun and the land of Nahtali beyond Jordan God gave the people dwelling in darkness a great light a wonderful and boundless light. Christ’s coming was not a single shaft of light as though through a crack. He is not just a glimmer of hopefulness or mere spark of optimism. He is the light beyond all suns or infinite candle power. He is Himself the light.
God gave a great light. He sent the full-blown dawn of a brand new day, radiant with the blaze of his own countenance. The promised Christ, the light of the world, was come.
In the closing promises of the Old Testament, God spoke through Malachi of that day when God would act, “For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the LORD of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.”
You should have seen us boys in that dry basin that night. Minutes before we were walking like frail old men holding onto the wall or tentatively testing each step with indecision and constant doubt. The light changed all that. The clock said midnight, but we had light.
We let go. Like idiotic ninnies we ran, skipped, and were young again … like calves from the stall. I hope to never underestimate light again or take it for granted.
When St. Matthew quotes Isaiah, “… for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death” he is speaking of all of us. Underground where the dead are buried, where this is no light or life, he broke in. To shine on us, Christ would come into the region of our death. God didn’t just train a spotlight on us. He came Himself into the darkness and overcame it.
A light has dawned. The darkness is ended. And for us who bask in Christ’s light, upon whom His countenance has been lifted, even if the clock says midnight, even if others say we Christians live in a gloom of naiveté and gullibility, even if darkness threatens and the dark lord would have us think Christ’s doctrine be a murky fog, you and I know differently.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation.” (Psalm 27:1a) Egypt may be plunged into darkness, but we live in the land of Goshen (Exodus 10:21-23), the region where God's people, as the church of Jesus Christ, are light in the Lord (Ephesians 5:8).
