There is an interesting psychological phenomenon called SAD. You may say, “What’s so strange about that?” Everyone is sad every once in a while. When we’re sad we’re upset, dejected, despondent, depressed, unhappy. The word sad is also an acronym which in the psychology community stands for “seasonal affective disorder.” The symptoms of SAD are more or less the same as just being sad, but more so. And the reason it’s called seasonal affective disorder is that it occurs during the winter months when the days are short and people are not exposed to very much light. SADness is brought on by darkness. And there is something very telling in that.

In a couple of months I will celebrate a quarter century of ministry as an ordained pastor in the Presbyterian Church. And in those twenty-five years, I have dealt with a great deal of sadness that has been brought on by the darkness of life. I know that it’s Easter and we want to be happy and bright and upbeat, but for a moment we need to be very honest about life: as the choir so movingly sang to us on Thursday night, along with the roses in life, there are some mighty nasty thorns as well. Scripture tends to use not the rose and thorn metaphor, but the light and dark metaphor. And whether we call it thorns or darkness, each and every person in this room knows what we’re talking about. The very youngest person here knows the pain of having a stomachache or not getting his or her way. And the very oldest person here has seen and known so much more: the darkness of unfulfilled dreams, of faltering and broken relationships, of unconquered personal sins, of unrelenting physical disease, of intractable social ills, of war, of the ever-present specter of death. We come to every Easter with the darkness of our lives so very alive and well, and this Easter is no different.

Darkness was no stranger to a man who lived two thousand years ago, a man named Simeon. We meet Simeon only once in scripture, very early in Jesus’ life. On the eighth day after Jesus was born, Joseph and Mary took him to the temple in Jerusalem, to perform two important rituals. One was the ritual cleansing that Mary performed and the other was the ritual redemption of Jesus as the first-born child of the household that Joseph performed. Simeon was an old and faithful man who, we are told, had spent his life looking for the appearance of the Messiah. God’s Spirit told Simeon to go to the temple that day, and when Simeon saw Jesus there with his parents, he knew that he was meeting the Messiah. Picture a shriveled old soul who has seen plenty of the dark side of life, as he takes the tiny baby in his hands. See his eyes twinkle and his lips break into a smile. Hear his wobbly voice proclaim what the Church would later label as the Nunc Dimittis, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

“A light,” old Simeon called Jesus. Was he thinking of the opening sentences of Genesis? “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep…. Then God said, ‘Let there be light….’” Was he thinking of the prophecy of Isaiah? “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.” The scriptures Simeon had read and heard all his life were filled with references to light, all the way from the original light of creation that drove away the darkness of nothingness to the light that shone from the face of God himself. And here at the beginning of Jesus’ life on earth, he sees that same divine light in Jesus, the light that is God’s salvation from the darkness of our lives, the light that reveals to the Gentiles just who this God of Abraham is, the light that is the culmination of the history of Israel, the special people who themselves were understood as a light to all the nations. Here is Jesus, the light who enters into and dispels the sadness, the darkness, of our lives.

It is many years after Simeon’s encounter with Jesus before Jesus enters the public scene, but when he does, he shines with a divine glory. He heals disease, confronts evil, challenges power, forgives sin, restores and renews lives, and reveals the heart of a gracious and loving God. And all seems well, until the darkness prevails. You know the story. The gentle teacher who welcomed everyone into God’s love and who actually made that love come alive with life-changing power was captured by a world that refused to let that loving light shine. It tried and convicted him in an illegal court and then executed him in the cruelest method known at that time. And when he died in the middle of the afternoon, the sky became black as night…without light. You and I don’t like the darkness. Maybe that’s why relatively few Christians are willing to come to church on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday. We simply are repelled by the darkness. It’s too scary, too real, too telling about the painful realities of our lives. But we have to understand the dark before we can truly understand the light. So come with me for just a moment into the dark. Picture the shock and grief on the faces of Jesus’ friends and admirers, the people like you and me who had such high hopes that were killed with every blow of the hammer that drove the nails into the cross. Hear the sobs and screams and cries of Jesus’ mother, of Jesus’ brothers, perhaps of Jesus himself, as his body is ripped and stabbed and broken. See the face, as you have seen the faces of those you’ve known and loved yourselves, that no longer opens its eyes and smiles and says, “There’s a person here.” Feel the cold and dark—the absolute blackness—of the cave that was a tomb. Know the black darkness of death.

Live with the blackness a while, but then, come to the tomb with the women early in the morning of the first day of the week. Feel the earth rumble under your feet as the stone covering the tomb is rolled away. See the dazzling light emanating from this heavenly being whose “appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.” Look into the empty tomb. And then…and then look into the face of Jesus again, alive again, and hear him say, “Do not be afraid.” Old Simeon had said so long ago that Jesus was the Light. The light went out. But God turned it back on again. And then we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus was the Light. The final darkness of this life is death. God’s final answer to death is the resurrection of Jesus. And that’s why all of us are here today. After all that was prophesied about Jesus, after all that Jesus himself said and did, after all that was hoped and dreamed in Jesus, Jesus was killed. But God wasn’t finished. Everything about Jesus died on the cross but it came roaring back in resurrection from the tomb. The light isn’t gone. The light is on, forever.

Helen and I have some dear friends who live in New Jersey now. They tend to be early risers and we tend to be night owls, so the joke among us is that the combination of our sleep habits and the three hours difference in time means that they often are starting their day at about the same time that we are ending ours. There have been times, in fact, when we will call them at the end of our day very late in the night and will find them awake, just beginning their day! But we never know exactly when each other is awake, so we’d like someone to develop a light that goes on in each other’s houses when the other family is awake. If the light is on, then we can talk. If not, we know not to disturb each other.

When Jesus came back from death, God was saying that his light is always on. Nothing—not even death—can put that light out. And that is very good news for you and me who live with so much darkness in our lives. Ever since Jesus came back from the grave, Christians have symbolized his never-ending light by the use of candles that are always lit. In our sanctuary, we have something not often seen in most churches. It is a small red lamp hung high over the chancel at the apex of the roof. Many of you have asked me about it over the years. It is meant to symbolize the Light of Christ that can never be extinguished. The light is always on. And wherever there is light, the darkness does not win.

My friend Mark Roberts, a pastor up the road in Irvine, in his book about Jesus that has been so helpful in my preaching this Lenten season, tells about his childhood fear of vampires. To combat that fear, which of course was worst at night, Mark hung a phosphorescent cross next to his bed at night. He figured that the combination of light in the form of a cross would keep even the worst vampires away.i There were some nights as a kid that I wish I had had a cross like that. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind having a cross like that now, because I so often need reminded that Jesus is alive and well and his light is there for me always.

The light is always on. And because of that fact, I have to take seriously what Jesus said and did in his bodily life on this earth. In an earlier story from John, Jesus said to his disciples, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (8:12). Funny thing about light, you have to open your eyes to make any use of it and you have to go where the light is to make any use of it. Keeping your eyes shut to the light or sitting in the dark corner where there is no light won’t get you very far in this life. In fact, it will get you into trouble. The light is always on but it means something to you and me only if we follow it, only if we allow it into the dark places in our lives, only if we will look at what it reveals about us, only if we keep walking toward it and not decide to return to the familiarity of the darkness.

The light is always on. Another thing Jesus said to his disciples that I must take with utmost sincerity is this, “You are the light of the world…let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:14, 16). Two years ago, I performed the marriage ceremony for the daughter of those same friends from New Jersey. At the wedding reception, someone from the groom’s side was thanking me for the service, and in a moment of inspiration perhaps aided by a bit of inebriation, he said, “Dr. Baca, you are the light!” And so our friends from New Jersey sometimes call me, “the Light.” I think they think it’s funny. And it is. But it’s also the truth, because Jesus said that those who believe in his resurrection, those who follow him, those who are filled with him, are the “light of the world.” How can the world know Jesus unless they meet him through us? How can the world see Jesus unless they see him in us? How can Jesus drive away the darkness that is in this world if it is not through the light that he has put into us? It is not enough for you and me to bask in the light. Jesus who is the Light commissions us to be the light for others.

Throughout the season of Lent that this day culminates in the celebration of Easter, we have been meeting Jesus. The most important person you can know is Jesus. Jesus is the Light of God who reveals God’s love and God’s desire to welcome us back into life in the Light, the life of blessing, of grace, of peace. Today, you and I proclaim our belief in Him who is the Light. Today, you and I demonstrate our commitment to Him who is the Light. Today, you and I celebrate Christ’s victory over the darkness of death and sin and evil. Today, you and I affirm with Christians throughout the ages the ancient confession of John: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and darkness did not overcome it” (1:1-5).

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

Amen.