By Marianne Wood

Last Christmas, we put up a new holiday tree in a corner of the dining room. The soft glow cast a warm blessing upon us as we gathered at our table, often with friends. In the evenings, we enjoyed viewing it from our adjacent living room. Open-concept living spaces are a significant improvement over the walled-off ones of my youth. Better sight lines and a roomier feel!

A short time after New Year’s Day, the tree came down. But we soon realized that we missed the light that tree provided, so we went online, looking at dozens of torchieres and multi-candle floor lamps. Finally, we selected one that seemed to go with our décor.

We enjoyed the glow that it cast on our space in a similar but less festive way than the twinkling Christmas lights. But the fixture’s imitation materials and clunkiness soon wore on me, and I began despising it. So we started looking for a replacement first while visiting friends in Austin. “Oh yes,” we thought, “Austin will have the lamp that will spark the kind of joy organization expert Marie Kondo encourages.” But no, our perfect lamp was not for sale at any of the stores we shopped or in any of those in the smaller towns along our route home. Finally, we gave in and shopped locally as we should have initially. We found the perfect beacon—an ideal year-round complement to Christmas lights, with a glow contained within materials that don’t imitate others. But I had more to learn about right light. My lesson in lighting recently grew brighter as I struggled to see well in another room in our home.

I doubt that I am the only artist who has worked hard to find the right amount of light for accurately seeing pigments and daubs on canvases indoors. I can imagine a cave artist hiring an assistant to stand or kneel, holding a large torch. Renaissance artists would have something similar, plus candles and oil lamps. Until recently, I had tube lights and spotlights all working in tandem with an overhead fan/light fixture. Instagram sucked me in twice with its illumination offerings. But there never seemed to be enough light! Then, recently, my husband switched out the overhead light bulbs to higher wattage ones, and behold, I can see everything at once. It was a simple fix after all that trouble. The quest for right light also fits with my spiritual journey.

So often I accept less than the best, and the light that I choose is much dimmer or less attractive than what I need. Impatience gets in the way. Or busyness. Lots of things. When I refuse to dwell in the knowledge of a just God, still in charge of this broken world despite the evidence to the contrary, I sit in darkness. When I fail to tilt my lens to see the stones of help built up in my life, and I don’t take time to reflect on them, I sit in darkness. When I forget to refer a decision to the Holy Spirit, but I choose to act impulsively, I sit in darkness.

We attended a wedding in September hosted by an extremely busy couple who managed to think thoughtfully enough to provide all the light we needed to value what is lost, celebrate the present, and embrace the future. Their success has helped inspire my quest for right light. Thank you, Melissa and Cale.

We light candles, open blinds, flip switches, and go outside seeking revelation to read, write, cook, and perform all manner of chores and delights. But our inner light, that which we have abundantly in Christ, grants us knowledge, even glimpses of heaven, if only we switch it on through communication with the One who is there all the time.

Marianne Wood enjoys writing, painting, and teaching art