As missionaries in an Alaskan village, my husband and I learned of the sickness that a sunless existence can inflict on the souls of men. The long winter’s idle hours and visionless days at times produced a lack of hope ending in bleak depression. Often during those times I pondered the reality that most of our village lived in spiritual darkness as well, ensconced in an eternal night with no hope of escape. To them, and to all who sit in the shadow of death, Jesus declared, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (Jn. 8:12 ).

Few realized that Jesus’ words were reminiscent of the time when the morning stars shouted for joy as the infinite I AM called out, “Let there be light.” In that moment, the unfathomable essence of Being, the living God, chose to go public with His glory, to manifest His attributes, His character, and His wondrous ways. Before, He dwelt in unapproachable light, the joy of His existence known only to Himself.

God created us in His image that we might, like mirrors, reflect back the radiance of God’s very self. His eternal plan was to fill the earth with His glory in this way, enabling us to live in the endless ecstasy of His light. To this end we were made
(Num. 14:21 , Is. 43:7 ).

But all too soon sin reared its ugly head, obscuring the light of God’s glory and sentencing mankind to the doom of eternal darkness. Jonathan Edwards wrote that in the fall, man “shrank, as it were, into a little space, circumscribed and closely shut up within itself… Sin, like some powerful astringent, contracted his soul … and God was forsaken.” There can be no greater tragedy than to be created for the light of glory yet trapped in a web of unending darkness.

But man’s rebellion would not derail God’s plan to fill the earth with His glory. Scripture tells us that even before creation, God knew that His creatures would sin. He designed a plan that would set apart a people in whom the capacity for glory could be restored. We glimpse a shadow of this in Jesus’ high priestly prayer: “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world” (Jn. 17:24 ).

This is what Christ purchased on Calvary—a people who would be with Him so that He could show them His glory. When He delivers us from sin’s dark cell, an amazing thing happens: Our eyes are unveiled to see what we were created for, what we’ve longed for without knowing it. “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6 ). This is the joy of all joys, the wonder that transforms our hearts and fills our lives with preeminent purpose.

Longing for Light

As winter drew to a close in our Alaskan village, sunshine interrupted the darkness for short intervals. But those few hours only made our yearning for summer more intense, deepening our dissatisfaction. In a similar way, those of us who have glimpsed the light of God’s glory live with poignant joy. For now, we see in a glass darkly, longing for the day we shall see Him as He is (1 Cor. 13:12 , 1 Jn. 3:2 ). Tasting and seeing that the Lord is good only increase our desire for Him.

There are times I ache for Jesus and in my yearning experience a holy discontent, a sort of unsatisfied bliss. I know that on this earth I will never fully experience what I was created and redeemed for, so I cling to the Spirit He’s given me as a pledge, groaning to be home in my dwelling from heaven (2 Cor. 5:2 ).

One thing sustains me day in and day out as I wait for His return: the hope of His glory, both now and for eternity. God continues to pursue His passion for a glory-drenched earth. How? Jesus also proclaimed, “You are the light of the world.” Today, transformed believers experience the joy of making Him known to those still in darkness (2 Cor. 3:18 ). God sets our hearts aflame that we, like cities on a hill, might cast His brilliant light across the expanse of a darkened globe (Mt. 5:14 ).

Since Pentecost, Christ’s followers have marched forward, glory-bearers bidding others to join in proclaiming “the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light” (1 Pet. 2:9 ). Until the day of His return, God will draw worshipers from every tribe and tongue to become what C. S. Lewis calls “dazzling, radiant, immortal creatures, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, bright stainless mirrors that reflect back to God perfectly (though of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness.”

My happiest times in Alaska were in summer, when the sun shone as brightly at midnight as it did at noon. The Eskimos came to life all day and most of the night, moving about with joy in the warmth of the summer sun. Fishing, berry picking, picnicking, partying—our village teemed with vibrant energy. Winter was finally over, and for a few weeks the sun would not set at all.

I long for a time far more glorious than those sunny reprieves from darkness in our little village. I hunger for heaven, where we will not need the sun or the moon to shine, for the glory of the Lord will illumine us, and the lamp will be the Lamb who was slain for our sins. Oh, the wonder, the joyful anticipation of that day when “the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory … your days of sorrow will end” (Is. 60:19-20 ). Come quickly, precious Light of the World.

Tricia McCary Rhodes is author of Taking Up Your Cross, Contemplating the Cross, and The Soul at Rest (all Bethany House ). She wishes more believers would read the classics, written by saints of old, because she says that in them “there are treasures to be unearthed that can revolutionize our hearts.”