It鈥檚 a hard, dark country, Wales. At least it seemed so to me as I travelled its narrow high roads one wet September. The canyons below, the cliffs above and mountains beyond all wore the same foreboding hue. So did village roofs. Under rain, they glowed black as ravens鈥� wings, and looked as ominous.
Slate. Wales has an abundance of it. Mined there for centuries, it has made many a man wealthy and many a miner鈥檚 wife a widow.
One foggy day, a rattling wooden cart riding narrow parallel rails plunged our family deep into a mining tunnel; its mouth as black as slate itself. After the first gut-twisting drop, our cart shuddered hundreds of feet down a lesser incline to the chilly bottom of a still-operating slate mine.
Bare hewn rock walls passed in a blur, inches from the cart鈥檚 side. We would have travelled in total blackness, except for the bright headlamp at the cart鈥檚 front. And also except for lesser, pale bulbs hanging from cords placed every few hundred yards along the weeping tunnel walls.
鈥淵ou are the light of the world,鈥� Jesus Christ told his followers. But two centuries later, now, here, when our globe feels encased in blackness, many wonder 鈥渋s it worth it to shine? Does a fingerling of light have a breath of a chance to pierce anyone鈥檚 darkness? 鈥�
No, too many say. I鈥檓 not big enough, bright enough, outstanding enough. Make a difference? Who, me?
Something I saw in the bowels of that Welsh slate mine tells me different. Clacking past one of the pale bulbs glowing against the jagged wall of weeping slate, I noticed something startling. A small but vibrant fern-like plant grew below it. Surrounded by blackness, its fronds stretched up to the light. The plant thrived 鈥� but only, precisely, where the lamp-rays shone.
Every Christ-follower carries his light within. Some Christ-lights are pale in the gloom; seen for an instant, then gone. Some blaze for a heartbeat, then like the flare of a match, die down to conform to status quo luminosity. But a few illuminate every step, all the way home.
Need that light? It shines brightest when we most need hope. Look for those who love like Jesus, and name him as their source. Reach for it. Grow in it. Learn to know Jesus himself.
Got a big responsibility? An influential position? Maybe only a minute? A word? A single vote? If the light of Christ lives in you, don鈥檛 hide it. Whether you find yourself out front, blazing the way, or quietly illuminating someone else鈥檚 dark path, don鈥檛 give up shining. And remember this: beautiful things can and do grow, even in hard, dark countries. And even a sliver of light can grow something exquisite.
