It's quarter till 6 o'clock, and in 15 minutes, the faculty and their spouses will arrive at our home for the annual Christmas party. Since Thanksgiving, my wife and I have labored to get the house decorated inside and out. The exterior lights have been my project. They are all plugged into timers so that they will come on at the proper time. We've had several "dry runs" to see how they look and to work out all the "bugs." All systems are a "go." My desire is for the house to be impressive. After all, if you can't see it from space, it's not worth doing! Lights along the roof line have been meticulously spaced an exact equidistance from each other so that my OCD wife is pleased. It's time for the grand reveal. The final countdown…10…9….8…7…6… My pride is at its highest expectation of being lauded for my beautiful labor of home holiday illumination….5…4…3…2…1…The timers click, the lights come on---well, most of them….except, of course, for the ones that were laboriously placed by my death-defying acrobatic prowess on the top of an extension ladder at the highest point on the roofline. "Houston, we have a problem!" Maybe I need to add my severe fear of heights to make the story a little more pitiful. Besides the word acrophobia in the dictionary, here is my picture!

Pressure mounts; the first guest is due to arrive at any moment. Frustration boils, I stand there fuming with a heart of indignation and a mind that would like to express some choice explicative toward those demon-possessed decorations. It would be so beautiful with all the lights, now nothing but the silhouette of lightbulbs in the darkness. Anyone who has ever had to deal with the annual Christmas light string fiasco understands my sentiment. I have a rule at my house and my age: if when I test the string and lights are out, they go into the trash! Every year, I declare this will be the last year to be infected by the virus of "Christmas Light-itus."

I hurry and grab the ladder, angrily climb to the top, take my life into my own hands, unplug the first set, discover a blown fuse, search for a new fuse, install it, plug the lights in, and voila…we have lights!!! It's all done before the first guest arrives. Whew! Problem solved! Not hardly. Within 15 minutes, they were out again, but I've ranted enough.

So, what did I glean from this dilemma amidst a time of joyous festivities? Firstly, my schizophrenic character could quickly turn from someone who loves Christmas to the incarnation of a Grinch-like Ebenezer Scrooge creature. More importantly, I discerned that just as soon as my human nature revealed my deprived condition, the Lord reminded me of the object lesson of the Christmas lights. When the lights were out, I wasn't actually cursing the lights; I was cursing the darkness. It's much easier to curse the darkness than to light a candle. It's natural. Some of us are professional "dark-cursers." We find it easy to criticize everyone and everything rather than do something to correct what's wrong and commend what's right. It wasn't the light that was wrong; it was the dark (specifically the lack of light). Light repels darkness.

Christmastime is a time of reminders and memorials. The evergreens remind us of God's eternality. The tree exemplifies the cross; Galatians 3:13 states, "Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us, for it is written: cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree." The ornaments remind us of special events and times in our lives. The star and angel recount events of the story of Christ's birth. Wreathes reflect that He was born to die for our sins.

Christmas lights should remind us of Jesus, Who declared Himself to be the Light of the world in John 8:12. John says that he was sent from God to bear witness of the Light (John 1:6-8). As believers, we should not be in the darkness cursing business. We have been commissioned to "let our light so shine before men" (Matt. 5:16). We are commanded to be Light commenders, bearing witness of the Light to those around us, rather than Light condemners.

There is one recurring truth I am confident about: the lights will challenge my sanctity again. It's the Christmas lights' curse. This Christmas, as we enjoy the beautiful Christmas lights, let's remember that while they are beautiful, they are reminders of the one true Light, Jesus.