It was so dark he couldn’t see his hand even if he held it in front of his face. At first he hadn’t noticed the gradual encroachment. It was a bit misty, perhaps. Maybe exceptionally cloudy. It was possible he needed his eyes checked. No one believes a lie as easily as the one telling it, but with time his excuses started sounding false even to him. It was dark everywhere lately, and he recalled a place he could get a light to break a path so he at least wouldn’t trip. His grandmother had told him about it – the light – when he was young enough to believe such things existed, and where to find it. He hadn’t given it much thought until now. But now? Now it was all he could think of!

He counted. .7..8..9..10. Ten steps from the base of the storm cellar. He felt around. Brushing through spiderwebs and – eech – surely that was a spider that just ran across the top of his hand – dust, he persevered. Ah! At the back of the second shelf from the top there was something small and about the size he remembered from those years ago. He picked it up. It was a little bigger than an ink pen. He moved his fingers around it until he found what felt like a switch and slid it up with his thumb. Light! A burden he hadn’t known he’d been carrying fell from his body as he looked around the small room. Yes! There. Old canned goods. Metal cans of Folgers. A stack of old wool army blankets. Some matches. He held the light close to them. They looked dry. At that moment the little storm cellar felt like paradise.

After two days of selfish possession there, his conscience tweaked him. The thought of exiting the storm cellar made him a bit nauseous. But, he chided himself, he must. He had friends, even family, who would benefit. And the town just a mile from where he was? They would be thrilled with such an invention! So, too, the towns beyond. But the dark! He dreaded it.

Holding tightly to the light, he set out; first shining it at his feet, then just ahead. And so he made his way to a neighbor’s house at the half mile mark. He wondered if he should knock at the door or call from the yard. What could he do if they tried to wrest it from his grip and hoard it for themselves?! He would not part with the light. No, indeed! He would do whatever necessary to keep it, that was for certain. He needn’t have worried, though, for when his foot stepped on the edge of their property, a light ignited within the house. What? He guessed he didn’t need to stop after all. He approached his sister’s home just a quarter mile ahead. And – another light?! It appeared he hadn’t needed to make this trip in the heavy dark. Still, dark enveloped the town ahead and he continued on. And each time his foot touched a property, a light flickered on in the building it held; sometimes two, sometimes more.

It occurred to him there was a peculiar power in the light he carried that he had not before understood nor even imagined, and that by simply making his minimal effort to bring them the light, a light appeared to them without his further effort.

Soon the town was alight and the darkness seemed to recede.

He plodded on into the suffocating dark ahead. And it happened as before. One step on the property and a light flickered on; house after house, business after business. Somewhere near what he imagined would be the break of dawn except for the forbidding dark, he turned and looked back to where he’d walked. Light! Lights in buildings and on streets! People were venturing out into the glorious open spaces! Over his shoulder a line of darkness still fell. But he knew now that it would yield. Energized, he turned toward it and walked on.

Image: pexels-gift-habeshaw-3415211.jpg; pexels-photo-348392.jpeg; mike-ralph-0yIzvpbRFw8-unsplash.jpg; jordan-wozniak-xP_AGmeEa6s-unsplash.jpg; Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on a candlestick, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:15-16; When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’ John 8:12; The truth is like a lion; you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose; it will defend itself. Often credited to St. Augustine of Hippo, but the origin is uncertain. Charles Spurgeon is the source of: Let the pure gospel go forth in all its lion-like majesty, and it will soon clear its own way and ease itself of its adversaries. and is a more likely origin.; One basic truth can be used as a foundation for a mountain of lies, and if we dig down deep enough in the mountain of lies, and bring out that truth to set it on top of the mountain of lies, the entire mountain of lies will crumble under the weight of that one truth…from Behold A Pale Horse by Milton William Cooper