Dusk begins and I finish my sermon for the next day. The laptop’s bright screen is pulled down. “Boy, it’s getting dark.”

The small Christmas tree placed during Advent in my kitchen’s bay window is replaced by an overpriced but lean tree with six birds sitting on lean, white limbs with low lights at its edges. Overpriced tree doesn’t appear to match the glowing light of Advent’s tree. “Should I turn on more kitchen lights.” No. Just wait.

Dusk slowly turns dark and, “Lo, and behold” (Christmas reference), my teeny lights get brighter. “Ummm.” Those tiny lights aren’t giving off any more light than they did during the day or dusk. As night becomes darker, my tinies get brighter.

Those in darkness have seen a great light? So, says scripture. My tiny lights illuminate the very same but, I guess, I notice it more in darkness.

A preacher’s oyster is always found in metaphors relating our faith to life. There’s nothing metaphorical about what was written above. It just is. The darkness that can plague any of us always has an ounce, sliver, or glimmer of a continuing light of hope. (Well, okay, one metaphor.)

A hopeful message for yourselves or to share with those experiencing darkness with apparently no light ahead of them. (Please note the word, “apparently.”) My overpriced lean tree proves the opposite.

Is Jesus that small glow of light? Is he our pilot light? (Okay, so there’s two metaphors!)

It’s getting darker now. Those tiny lights are still offering the same light. What they were created and intended to do. In the darkness, even complete darkness, an ounce, sliver, glimmer.