Since my earliest memories, I have loved going camping. Whether it is backpacking in the mountains or car camping along the beach, there is something truly refreshing about being outdoors. Removed from the hustle and bustle of the everyday grind, you begin to appreciate the little things, to stand in awe of the spectacle of creation, and to fall in love with a life removed from screens and distractions. But as anyone will tell you, whether they’ve only spent a few days out camping or you take every chance you get to get out and disconnect, one of the highlights of the experience is sitting around a campfire at night. A campfire in the wild is an experience everyone should have at least once in their life; there’s just something magical about it.
The campfire is a world-creating event. The fire creates a boundary between the dark and the light; it establishes a border. Inside that border are the faces of those you are with, trusted friends and people you love; outside are the unknown and frightening things of the dark. Outside, there were the strange noises of unseen creatures moving about; inside, there were the laughter and stories of your people. I remember taking our dog Ruby camping with the family, and I noticed that she would always sit with her back to the fire. As a consummate guard dog, she would stare off into the darkness, concerned about every noise from the forest. Inside the light were her people, her family, but she was constantly watching for whatever was coming from the dark. She protected the border no matter what. We tend not think about the boundaries of our life; they are the commonplace walls and doors of our homes, but in the backcountry, it is the light of the fire that makes the separation. The light gives order and promises peace amid the dark uncertainty all around.
Matthew describes the arrival of our Lord as a fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. “The people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned.” The dawning light of Christ establishes a new world, a new way of living, a new understanding of who you are, a new promise about your future, and hope. The light of Christ changes everything, creating a boundary within a world consumed by darkness. Inside, we find familiar faces, people we love and cherish. There we find the stories of our life together, there we find hope and promise.
But the darkness continues to call us, to tempt us with the former way of doing things. And what was it that we do in the darkness? What was the old way of life? It didn’t seem like chaos; it didn’t feel uncertain and random. There was a reasonableness to that life, there was a system, or rather systems, by which we navigate the world outside the light of Christ. We had our reason, our strength, our desire to drive us forward. The ages of philosophy and political developments have led us to believe that we are making progress, bettering ourselves, moving towards a higher plane of living, and a more fulfilled human experience.
The darkness didn’t seem dark at all. Whether you were seeking pleasure, riches, or fame, there was a pathway toward it. In the darkness, you were free to chase your dreams and believe that you could flourish by the works of your own hands. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and charge ahead; all that’s limiting you is yourself. Everywhere you turned, there was the promise that if you just did this thing or stopped doing that one, you would achieve your dreams, you would find fulfillment. And you got really good at navigating the darkness, you success stories that you would tell your friends, about. You could give advice and follow the advice of others. It felt good, felt like we were finally making progress.
But then the light dawns, the true light that comes into the darkness, and it reveals the futility of all your effort. You thought your pathways in the darkness were making good strides, were leading you forward, climbing up the mountain, but in the light, you see that you have been wandering around the base of the mountain. Far from climbing up, you’ve been mired in the muck and grime of temporal desires with no progress toward true enlightenment and hope. The systems of strength and security that you’ve trusted in seem like a cardboard fort in the brilliance of the true light. Your world changes in the light, for even as it tears down the old world of darkness, it declares that you are unable to climb the mountain, you are unable to achieve assurance of anything above the shadow of death.
The voice of the true light says to you, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” The kingdom of heaven is the coming of Christ, the light that shines upon you in Christ, the light that envelopes your life, is the active rule and reign of God. Here, every mouth is stopped, all your boasting comes to an end, every work you’ve done falls short, and what remains for you to do is repent. To confess that you have failed, to confess that by your own reason and strength you cannot do it. To repent is to abandon hope in yourself and trust in the light that has come, trust in his work, his gift, his ability to carry you up the mountain.
And in this light, in this life of repentance, a new life begins for you. The light shines on Andrew and Peter as they are employed in their trade, casting their nets into the sea. “Follow me,” he says, “and I will make you fishers of men.” Follow me, repent and believe, and the darkness of this age recedes. A new pattern begins. These men will become bearers of this Word of light; they will go forth to start campfires in new communities, to create new places where people will gather out of the darkness, where they will find familiar faces telling the sacred stories, sharing laughter and tears as the hope and promises of Christ reshape our world.
And so it is with you, my friends. You, who gather here in the light. It is here that you know that you are forgiven, here you are renewed in the strength and confidence of the Lord. You repent and believe, you have been washed in the waters of Holy Baptism and so have put on Christ, and his life has become yours. And so your life bears the light into the world. So go and be what he has called you to be, go and live in the assurance of all Christ has done for you. Live in the light, for the Lord has not ceased to cast his nets.
