It was meticulous work. Like setting a banquet for a king. Everything had a place. Everything must be in its place. Every linen sharply folded and perfectly placed. Every utensil carefully aligned. Every ornament angled to showcase its beauty or radiantly shed its light. Aaron understood the process well. Although he had never set a king’s table, he had often set The King’s table. Carefully positioned the showbread. Painstakingly placed furniture in its designated space. Precisely noted direction, spacing, and lighting, because every time they moved, so did the Tabernacle. Every time they set up camp, they reset the Tabernacle. Not haphazardly. Perfectly. Aaron knew the steps by heart. Had memorized them.
Listening carefully to Moses’ instruction, Aaron had made the appropriate mental notes. He understood the importance of obeying every single direction regarding the Tabernacle. Every piece of furniture, every location, every wall, every curtain, every thread was symbolic of their relationship and covenant with God. But Aaron was human. He had many duties. He was in charge of a new endeavor, overseeing sacrifices and offerings, keeping the lamps trimmed and burning, refusing to let the fire of God go out in the Tabernacle. The responsibility felt heavy. Yes, he had assistants. Yes, there were other priests. But Aaron was the high priest, the overseer. Authority rested on his shoulders. If things went sideways, he must answer for it. Correct it. Ensure it didn’t happen again. It wasn’t his favorite part of the job. (Exodus 27:20-21; Leviticus 21:1-4; Numbers 17)
Carefully, he worked to ensure everything was done correctly. Every piece of furniture facing the correct direction. Every table set exactly. Every little burning bowl of oil tilted at just the right angle. Those seven lamps on the lampstand must face forward. Always. Not sideways. Not backwards. Not helter-skelter. Forward. Only. Light from those lamps needed to illuminate the entire area. In front of the Altar of Incense. Across to the table of showbread. Everything should be awash in their light. Every step of the priests illuminated. Every work area well-lit. Every example and reminder of the goodness of God and their covenant with Him brightly seen by every priest who entered The Holy Place. A reminder to those men to carry that promise, that truth, that reminder out to the people. The light of God’s presence surrounded them. He was with them. Among them. Within them. (Exodus 25:37; Numbers 8:2)
Those lights were constantly kept burning. Oil was regularly replenished. Wicks trimmed. Bowls cleaned. Never once were those lights to become dim. Because the presence of God wasn’t going anywhere. It shone from within the Tabernacle. It filled the hearts and lives of those who obeyed and followed Him. It shined out for the people whose land they travelled through to see. It echoed in their victories, resounded in their protection, resonated in God’s acts of provision. The light of God lived among them. He was their God. They were His people. They were supposed to live like it. (Leviticus 24:1-4; Exodus 13:21; 16:11-17; 17:8-13; 34:15-16)
Part of living like it was to be God’s light in the world. The Israelites travelled through some dark places. Places where sin and idolatry threatened to pull them aside. Sometimes it did. For some of them. Sometimes the pull of sin was so great, their self-control so small, their choice to live in the light of God seemed impossible to make. Sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they sinned, angered God, even to the point He considered weeding out the chaff. Destroying the people altogether. He didn’t. That wasn’t the message He wanted to send to the watching world. He wanted the people who didn’t know Him to watch His care for His people, whom He was actively among, and know that He was God. Above all Gods. He wanted them to see the light of His presence. Even when the darkness of the world threatened to diminish His light, God’s presence never went out. It never left. The light remained. (Numbers 14:1-25)
People didn’t understand it. They never would. Centuries later, as the New Testament dawned and Jesus made His appearance as the light of God in the darkness of the world, they still missed it. So distracted were they by the things of the world, the worries of life, the cares of the day, the desires to have more, be more, do more, many missed the light. The wealthy young aristocrat. The Pharisees. The Sadducees. Pilate. Still, some recognized it. Some people realized Jesus was the light of the world. Nicodemus. The man blind from birth. The demoniac from the Gadarenes. Every single one of the twelve disciples. Some saw He was the one who could illuminate their darkened hearts, the darkened world, their darkened paths. He could give them light and life. He could and would be the light in their hearts that never goes out. Ever. Even in persecution, imprisonment, and death. (John 3:1-21; 8:12; 9:1-41; Mark 4:19; 15:6-15; Luke 8:26-39; 18:18-23)
Stephen believed. With every fiber of his being. So changed was he by the light of God shed abroad in His heart that he went about preaching the word of God. Everywhere. Performing miracles and signs in Jesus’ name and power. Spreading the light as far as he could. As many as were excited to hear his truth and bathe in the light radiating from his spirit, not everyone felt the same. Pulled into a lively debate in the synagogue, some who refused to walk into the light of Jesus Christ, told lies about him. Stirred up trouble. Got him arrested. His story never changed. But his face did. It silenced the entire high council into staring. It shone. Radiated light. As bright as an angel.
Asked if the accusations against him were true, Stephen launched into a sermon. He boldly did his part to speak truth and shed the light of God into the darkened minds and hearts of those men. They weren’t interested. Still, Stephen’s light shone. As he was shoved to his knees in anger and rebuke. As rocks pummeled his body. Even when he started to get dizzy and faint from too many blows to the head, the light of Christ shone through. Echoing words similar to that of Jesus on the cross, he commended himself to God and asked that his murderers not be charged in Heaven’s courts. Light. Illuminating the truth of Jesus to the world. From a light that was constantly lit and facing forward. (Acts 6:8-7:60)
The command has never changed. Never once, in all of recorded Scripture, have we been told to let the light go out. That we don’t need it anymore. That there’s no need to trim the wicks, keep the glass clean and spotless, or let the oil burn down. Quite the converse. In fact, in one of His parables, Jesus tells us the exact opposite. Keep your lamp clean and trimmed and burning. Keep a supply of oil. Don’t let the light of Christ go out. Not in your heart. Not in your home. Not in your world. Your light is necessary there. Necessary everywhere. Because you are the light of the world. (Matthew 25:1-14; Luke 12:35)
Jesus said it. Shortly into His sermon on the mountainside, following a list of ways to do so, Jesus tells His followers that they are to be the light. Of the world. They are to be constantly clean and pure and filled with Him. They are to represent His presence, His power, His preeminence. In humility, mercy, purity, and peace. In the midst of persecution. When society shuns them, when neighbors revile them, when people spread rumors and lies behind their backs. Their actions then should reveal the light of Christ in them. It should radiate from their faces, resonate in their words, reverberate through their actions. In fact, actions are the only thing Jesus references when He issues this statement. Do good. To everyone. Let goodness shine from you in the way you treat other people, in the way you help others, in the way you give to the poor, in the causes you support, the way you handle adversity, the manner in which you resolve conflicts, disagreements, or differences of opinion. Let the light and love of Jesus Christ shine so radiantly through you that everything you do reflects the heart and nature of God. And don’t hide it. Ever. For any reason. (Matthew 5:14-16; Ephesians 5:8)
It is easy to do. Dim our light. Hide it. Shield it. Hold it at a different angle so we don’t have to stand up and explain our choices, don’t have to face the discrimination, don’t have to answer the backlash. Especially in our world of loose morals and low standards. Dimming the light of Christ in us is an incredibly easy and wildly attractive option. It is tempting to hide our beliefs and convictions. Keep quiet rather than speaking up. Quietly endure irreverent humor and explicit conversations. Embrace gossip groups and slander sessions. Allow yourself to spend time in questionable circumstances where temptation lurks, and the pressure to dim your light is nearly impossible to resist. Don’t do it. Don’t let your light dim. Don’t let it go out. Don’t participate in the things that will drain your oil and snuff your flame. No matter what it costs you to keep the light of Christ in your heart trimmed and burning brightly, do it. Refuse temptation. Resist the devil. Run from evil. Remembering this, your reward isn’t in the praise and prosperity and popularity of earth. Your prize is in Heaven. But you have to get there to claim it. And to get there, you have to walk with God, be in God, obey God in every word and action. You have to be the light of Christ, facing forward, illuminating the world. (Philippians 4:8; Ephesians 4:29; I Corinthians 15:33; Proverbs 4:14-15)
Let’s be very clear, here. You can only be the light of the world if Christ is living in you, if His presence walks daily beside you, if your life echoes Him in every word and action. His goodness. His patience. His kindness. Although there may be a point when you can gently do so, being the light isn’t pointing out everyone else’s flaws. That isn’t your job. You were not sent to police the world. Being the light is about you. About living right yourself. About keeping your eyes on your own paper. About standing firmly and boldly in the Word of God and what it teaches. It is refusing to be swayed or moved by the ever-loosening morals of society. Being the light of Christ in the world is speaking truth in love, with grace, offering mercy. Living peaceably, but not passively. Actively shining your light forward so other people’s paths will be illuminated by the light of Christ, and they will come to know Him, follow Him, and worship Him. (Ephesians 2:10; 4:15; 6:10-18; Titus 3:8; Hebrews 10:24; James 1:22-25; 2:14-26; Colossians 4:6)
Don’t hide your light. Ever. No matter how tempting it is to shy away from the opposition, angry tirades, or derisive comments. Don’t be swayed. Don’t be drawn aside. Don’t get discouraged. Don’t stop following what you know to be true. No matter how thick or convincing the darkness around you, never allow your light to be covered. Don’t give in to the urge to hide your convictions, beliefs, religion, or the truth of God from a world that despises it. Tend your lamp. Keep it trimmed. Keep it burning by meticulously guarding your heart and mind. Keep it facing forward, shining brightly, illuminating every corner of the darkened world around you. Live in the light. Walk in the light. Be the light that faces forward and directs everyone to Christ. (Philippians 2:15; I Corinthians 4:20; I John 1:5-7; Ephesians 5:8-14)