John 1:1-14

            {Prayer}

            As many of you know, I love to go deer hunting. Even if I don’t get the opportunity to shoot anything, I just love being out in the woods and soaking up the wonderful creation that God has blessed us with. Of all the times to hunt, I would say that my favorite would be those early morning hunts. And by early morning, I mean early. My goal is to be in the tree stand or in my spot and set about 30 minutes before first light, which for those who may not know, that’s about 30 minutes before the sun officially rises.

            Sitting in the woods those early mornings … there is this stillness that settles in. Being out there that early, everything is quiet and nothing is really moving. With the busyness of life, the early morning quietness almost feels unnatural. The quietness is broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves, the howl of a coyote in the distance, or a hoot of an owl. The darkness creates a mix of expectation of what is to come and an uneasiness of what is out there that I can’t see.

            Then the first faint glimmers of light being to appear. Slowly the sky begins to brighten. As it does, the light filters through the trees and transforms the world around me. Shadows begin to recede, details begin to emerge, birds start to chirp, and the woods slowly come alive with possibility.

            This experience of moving from the uneasiness and eeriness of the all-encompassing darkness to the comfort of the light mirrors the spiritual journey of moving from the darkness of sin and despair to the hope found in Christ.

Like the early morning darkness in the woods, a life lived apart from Christ is unsettling and uncertain. The darkness of sin doesn’t just obscure our vision, it distorts what is familiar. It twists what God intended for good into something uneasy and broken. It whispers lies that lead us away from the truth, sowing confusion, fear, and despair. Sin clouds our judgment, making even the clearest paths feel unsafe and unclear. This darkness leaves us longing for clarity, for peace, for something greater than ourselves.

But just as the rising of the sun transforms the woods, the light of Christ changes everything. His light doesn’t simply illuminate life, it heals, restores, and reveals. When the light of Jesus shines into our lives, it pushes back the shadows of sin, it uncovers God’s truth, and it reveals the beauty, hope, and life that only He can bring.

            John 1 tells us how Jesus is the true light, the Word made flesh, who entered into our dark and broken world. Jesus came to dispel the darkness, to bring life, and to lead us into the joy and fullness of His grace. Without Jesus, we are like travelers lost in the pre-dawn shadows of uncertainty, uneasiness, and yearning for something more.

            But Christ’s light doesn’t just guide us spiritually … it also affirms the value and the sanctity of life itself. The Word made flesh, He came to dwell among us. Jesus came bringing life and hope into a world that is clouded by sin and death. As the rising sun awakens the world to life, the light of Christ reveals the beauty, worth, and purpose of every human life. Every life, every single life is created in the image of God and redeemed by His love.

            John says, “The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it” (1:5). In the darkness of sin, the light of Christ cannot be extinguished. The light pushes back against a world that too often devalues life. It doesn’t matter if it is the loss of an unborn child, the neglect of the vulnerable, or the disregarding of the elderly, Christ came into this world, into the darkness of our world to bring life. Life now and eternally. In the light of Christ, every life is precious. 

            Even when the darkness seems overwhelming … there is hope. The faintest glimmer of light begins to push back the shadows. Like the woods that stir to life with the first hints of dawn, like when the birds begin to sing and the world stirs to life, the light of Jesus breaks through. His truth, love and grace pierce the deepest darkness, leading us out of sin and despair and into the freedom and joy of life in Him.

            But as the light begins to rise and transform the woods, we can’t forget the depth of the darkness that we’ve left behind. Darkness is not simply the absence of life, it is the reality of sin, death, and despair that engulfs this world. It’s a darkness that whispers lies into our ears. Lies like … some lives are less valuable then others, that suffering diminishes dignity, that death is the final word.

            The Gospel tells us an entirely different story. John writes, “In him was life, and that life was the light of men” (1:4). The light of Christ doesn’t dispel a little darkness or breaks through a part of the darkness. No, it overcomes all of the darkness. It proclaims that every life, no matter how small, weak, or frail it is, every life is created in the image of God and is deeply cherished by Him. Psalm 139 reminds us that, “You {God} created my inmost being; you {God} knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise you {God} because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (139:13-14).

            This is why Life Sunday is so important. It’s a day to affirm what it is that Christ’s light reveals. It affirms that life, all life is a sacred gift. Whether we are speaking for the unborn, the elderly, or the vulnerable, we are standing in the light of Christ, reflecting His truth to a world that is still lost in the shadows. Jesus reminds us that “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40).  

            So here’s the challenge … light isn’t just meant to be admired … it is meant to be shared. Jesus has called us to be reflections of His light in the darkness, to be His hands and feet in a world that so desperately needs His hope and love. And we know that this isn’t always easy. It means speaking the truth when it’s unpopular, offering compassion when it is inconvenient, and trusting that Christ’s light will shine in darkest of all places. Jesus tells us “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on a stand and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

            As the woods awaken with the light of the rising sun, so too does the world come alive in the light of Christ. His light reveals the beauty and value of every life, it dispels the fear and uneasiness of sin’s darkness, and it leads us into the joy and hope of His eternal life. Jesus said in John 8, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (8:12).

            The message of Life Sunday is this: Jesus has come to bring life and light to a world overshadowed by death. His light is not just for our own comfort but for the transformation of the world around us. As Jesus says in John 10, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (10:10).

            Let the light of Christ shine through you. Stand for life, defend the vulnerable, and speak the truth of the Gospel. As you do, remember … the light of Jesus cannot be overcome. The darkness has no power over the resurrected and ascended Son of God, Jesus Christ. As John reminds us, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (1:5).

            Today, as we celebrate Life Sunday, as James says in the series we started last week, let us not just be hearers of the Word, but doers. Let’s reflect the light of Christ in our words, our actions, and our care for one another. Be the voice for the voiceless. Be the hands of compassion to the hurting. And above all … be the reflection of Christ’s hope to a world in need of His light. Amen.

            The peace of God, which surpasses all human understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord, now and forever. Amen.