Saturday night I went to a glow in the dark party. Long story, but suffice it to say I came home wearing one of those fluorescent bracelets – you know the kind when you pop and crack the plastic tube, a mysterious glowing liquid fills the chamber in either hot pink, cool blue, acid orange or neon yellow.
I was tired. It had been a full week, a cram-packed week, and although I managed to remove my mascara, brush my teeth with minty paste and run my Clarisonic over my face before falling asleep, I did not take off the bracelet.
In the middle of the night I woke to an enormous thud. My subconscious tugged me semi-awake for a second to make sure everything was okay. And as my brain registered the loud thump was only a particularly heavy walnut falling from our tree onto our roof, I saw through fluttering eyes my glowing wrist. It surprised me. I’d forgotten about it. Yet, the bracelet still glowed, still cast a lovely soft pink light about my room.
Did you have a nightlight as a child? I did. It was shaped like a little wooden birdhouse. A colored bulb sat inside like an egg. When my parents thought I outgrew my nightlight and threw it away, I switched to sleeping with my closet light on. There is something extremely comforting about a light in the midst of darkness.
My sleepy brain, comforted by my cozy covers, the realization that I was safe and my built in neon nightlight bracelet turned to the permanent nightlight that is with me wherever I go – Jesus.
God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. Isaiah 40:28-29
Jesus is my comforting light in the midst of darkness. He is the One who reassures me that the loud noise is only a nut, that the to dos on my list don’t all have to get to done today, that no one else’s opinion of me matters except for His, that I will always be safe in His loving, capable arms. Even when my eyes are closed to Him. Even when my brain has tuned Him out or temporarily forgotten all that He is and all that He offers, He shines on.
But unlike the glow of the neon bracelet that had fizzled out by the middle of Sunday afternoon, Jesus’ light never goes out. Ever. No matter how jarring the bumps and thumps of life, no matter how dark our nights. He is always there, providing His soft, peaceful glow of love. All we have to do is open our eyes, for just a moment, to see Him and remember He is there.
Have you ever had a nightlight? What did it mean to you? I’d love to hear.
Laura L. Smith