One day, the world will wake up screaming.
It has created a nightmare from which it does not yet desire to escape, because it does not yet realize it is trapped in darkness. Light is a distant sphere, floating on the horizon, growing smaller and smaller as the world marches away with its back turned.
If only the world knew that the light is Christ, come to find His lost sheep. Yes, if the world knew, it would turn and run toward the light that would shatter the nightmare. Rather, the world runs away from the light, believing it is blinding, not realizing that this light cures blindness.
We the remnant, the ninety-nine sheep, flock behind Christ and follow Him into the valley, but our own lanterns burn with the feeblest light, smoking. We are a frightened flock—we are bleeding, broken, bruised, ill. Only the Shepherd has the strength to face the darkness. His light is our salvation as much as it is the lost’s.
My prayer this Christmas is that every soul would turn toward the light and run to Him.