Brightly beams our Father’s mercy From His lighthouse evermore; But to us He gives the keeping Of the lights along the shore.
Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave! Some poor fainting, struggling seaman You may rescue, you may save.
Dark the night of sin has settled, Loud the angry billows roar; Eager eyes are watching, longing, For the lights along the shore.
Trim your feeble lamp, my brother! Some poor seaman, tempest-tossed, Trying now to make the harbor, In the darkness may be lost.
In the quiet moments of reflection, a song often whispers to the depths of our souls, carrying with it the weight of an ancient truth. “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning” is a hymn that speaks volumes, encapsulated in Hymn 267 from our cherished hymnal. It calls us not just to sing a melody but to live out a profound truth: we are to be beacons of light for those lost in life’s tumultuous seas.
As we embrace the fasted lifestyle, we do more than abstain; we shine. This lifestyle is a beacon that cuts through the darkness, guiding our sisters, brothers, and neighbors to hope, love, peace, and joy. Valerie Holmes and Connie Smith resonated with this truth, their voices echoing the hymn’s call, a call that has not dimmed through the years.
Isaiah 58 reminds us of what true fasting means. It isn’t a mere ritual or a somber display of piety. It’s a loud shout for justice, a trumpet’s call for change. “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice… to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?” These words challenge us to reconsider what it means to fast. It’s not about the outward show but the inward transformation that frees us to act justly and love mercy.
In a recent editorial, Charles Blow reminded us that beneath a veneer of kindness often lies a shadow of cruelty. This is a poignant reminder for those who profess Christianity. A fast without compassion is empty. Holiness without kindness is a mask. Our actions must align with the heart of God, not just in the quiet of our prayers but in the presence of those who need our love and grace the most.
We must ask ourselves, if we are truly reflecting God’s light, what does that light reveal? Does it expose the milk of human kindness within us or a barrenness where empathy should reside? If we can worship and read our Bibles, yet cannot extend a hand of kindness, what does that say about our love for God?
The fasted lifestyle is a mirror, reflecting not just our own spiritual state but the face of Christianity to the world. It’s a poignant question that haunts the soul: If others were to learn of Jesus solely through us, would they be compelled to follow Him?
We are called to be the ‘lower lights,’ the ones close to the shore’s edge, guiding the struggling seamen home. May our lives be such that, in seeing our love and compassion, others are rescued from the raging seas. Let’s embrace this fasted lifestyle, not as a series of don’ts, but as a life overflowing with the love of God, a love that is patient, kind, and unselfish.
In our hearts, let those shore lights burn brightly, and through our actions, let us be the prayer warriors that stand in the gap. And as we navigate the complexities of life, let us carry with us the melody of that old hymn, a reminder to let the lower lights be burning, sending a gleam across the waves, so that in finding us, the lost may find their way to the ultimate Source of light—our Father in Heaven.
The thought came to mind: If I was accused of being a Christian, is there enough evidence to convict me.
Thank you for continuing to pour into the lives of others. Your ministry is greatly appreciated.