Hope from John 1 for when the days get short
November is the month the light leaves early.
In some parts of the U.S., we set the clocks back, and suddenly the drive home happens in the dark. The porch light is already on when we pull in. Dinner is made under kitchen lights instead of the sun’s light.
For some of us, that's just a change of routine. For others, the dark seems to settle in deeper. It isn't only outside the window. Some days it feels like it's inside us too. A heaviness from work, from caregiving, from the news, from griefs we haven't had time to name.
If that's where you are, you're not alone. And you're not without a word for this season.
"In the beginning was the Word"
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." — John 1:1–5 (NIV)
John starts his Gospel where Genesis starts: in the beginning. Before the first sunrise, before the first long night, before whatever is pressing on you this week, the Word was already there. That Word is Jesus. Everything that exists came through him. And the life in him is light for every one of us.
So the light John describes isn't something we have to make. It was here first.
What "the darkness has not overcome it" means
I love how honest John is. He doesn't say the darkness goes away. He doesn't tell us to pretend it isn't there or smile our way through it. He says the light shines in the darkness, present tense, and the darkness has not overcome it.
The dark is real. It just doesn't win.
Older translations put verse 5 a little differently. The King James says the darkness "comprehended it not." Either way, the point holds: the darkness can't grasp the light, can't master it, can't put it out.
That's a different kind of hope. It doesn't depend on the days getting longer or the heaviness lifting on schedule. It rests on something older and steadier than our circumstances.
Light in the darkest watch
The Gospels keep showing Jesus arriving in the dark. In Matthew 14, he walks across the water to his frightened disciples in the fourth watch of the night, the darkest hours before dawn. When Peter starts to sink, Jesus reaches out and catches him. Immediately.
If the dark has you watching the waves lately, I invite you to sit with my guided meditation Eyes on Jesus. Together we pray a simple breath prayer from Peter's cry and Jesus' answer: Lord, save me… You are here. It's one of the most-loved meditations from the Anchored series, and a good companion for long November evenings.
A 3-minute practice: Turn Toward the Light
Try this once a day this month. At your desk, in the car before you go inside, or as the lamps come on in the evening.
Settle. Feet flat on the floor. Rest your hands open in your lap.
Turn toward the light. Face the nearest window or lamp. Let it reach you. You don't have to do anything with it.
Breathe slowly. Let each exhale run a little longer than the inhale.
Pray with your breath. Breathing in: "In him was life." Breathing out: "The light still shines." Repeat it five or six times.
Notice. Before you get up, ask gently: Where did I see your light today, Lord? Small counts. A text from a friend. A coworker's kindness on a hard shift. One verse that met you.
That's it. Three minutes. Let it be enough.
Comment “more” if you'd like more short practices like this.
