The Cave People
You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:14-16)
LONG AGO, or maybe not so long ago, (or maybe even still today) there was a tribe in a dark, cold cavern. The cave dwellers would huddle together and cry against the chill. Loud and long they wailed. It was all they did. It was all they knew to do. The sounds in the cave were mournful, but the people didn’t know it, for they had never known life outside the cave. But then, one day, they heard a different voice. “I have heard your cries,” it announced. “I have felt your chill and seen your darkness. I have come to help.” The cave people grew quiet. They had never heard this voice. Hope sounded strange to their ears. “How can we know you have come to help?” “Trust me,” he answered. “I have what you need.”
The cave people peered through the darkness at the figure of the stranger. He was stacking something, then stooping and stacking more. “What are you doing?” one cried, nervous. The stranger didn’t answer. “What are you making?” one shouted even louder. Still no response. “Tell us!” demanded a third. The visitor stood and spoke in the direction of the voices. “I have what you need.” With that he turned to the pile at his feet and lit it. Wood ignited, flames erupted, and light filled the cavern. The cave people turned away in fear. “Put it out!” they cried. “It hurts to see it.” “Light always hurts before it helps,” he answered. “Step closer. The pain will soon pass.” “Not I,” declared a voice. “Nor I,” agreed a second. “Only a fool would risk exposing his eyes to such light.” The stranger stood next to the fire. “Would you prefer the darkness? Would you prefer the cold? Don’t consult your fears. Take a step of faith.
For a long time no one spoke. The people hovered in groups covering their eyes. The fire builder stood next to the fire. “It’s warm here,” he invited. “He’s right,” one from behind him announced. “It’s warmer.” The stranger turned and saw a figure slowly stepping toward the fire. “I can open my eyes now,” she proclaimed. “I can see.” “Come closer,” invited the fire builder. She did. She stepped into the ring of light. “It’s so warm!” She extended her hands and sighed as her chill began to pass. “Come, everyone! Feel the warmth,” she invited. “Silence, woman!” cried one of the cave dwellers. “Dare you lead us into your folly? Leave us and take your light with you.”
She turned to the stranger. “Why won’t they come?” “They choose the chill, for though it’s cold, it’s what they know. They’d rather be cold than change.” “And live in the dark?” “And live in the dark.” The now-warm woman stood silent. Looking first at the dark, then at the man. “Will you leave the fire?” he asked. She paused, then answered, “I cannot. I cannot bear the cold.” Then she spoke again. “But nor can I bear the thought of my people in darkness.” “You don’t have to,” he responded, reaching into the fire and removing a stick. “Carry this to your people. Tell them the light is here, and the light is warm. Tell them the light is for all who desire it.” And so she took the small flame - and stepped into the shadows. (“A Gentle Thunder” Word Publishing. 1995. by Max Lucado)
Like the cave dwellers in Lucado’s parable we live in a world that is so much like a dark, uncomfortable cave. And the problem is that this world is all any of us has ever known. The cave dwellers had only known darkness, the chill of the cave, and the never-ending mournful wail coming from each other. But for them it was normal – it was the way life ought to be. Though they were miserable, they were protective of their misery. They had a culture of misery and they wanted it to continue unhindered. The principle by which they interpreted life was this: “As it has been – so must it always remain.” The patterns of their long history dictated their anticipation of the future. That’s an oppressive way to live. It assumes that past experiences are always good and right and shouldn’t be questioned. Its underlying control comes from fear – “We want to stay with the familiar!” and pride – “We couldn’t be wrong!” So when the stranger arrives with the warmth and the light of the fire, it frightens them. It angers them. Rather than gladly accepting what he was offering, they shrank away – fearful of the changes it could bring into their lives. The fear of change can be a powerful enslaving force in a person’s life, no matter how miserable the circumstances. We are at heart, creatures of habit – often much more willing to suffer with “what-is” than risk “what-might-be.” To one degree or another we are all cave dwellers.
But the Gospel of Christ brings and calls for change – radical change. More than that, it brings transformation. But it is only experienced by people who risk stepping out of the darkness and coming towards the light. The Bible calls that faith. The good news is that the light and warmth that comes from the love of Jesus Christ is intoxicating and powerful. It completely eradicates the power of fear and pride. Once having experienced it, we wonder why we were ever so fearful of responding to his invitation. Having experienced the light of his love, we wonder what attracted us to stay in the darkness. After stepping out of the shadows and into the warmth of his grace our heart breaks for those who still want to remain in the gloomy darkness. So does the heart of our Savior. He came to reveal the light of his holiness and then commissions us to take it to the world around us. “Don’t hide the light under a bushel,” he says. “Take it to other cave dwellers in the world.” And so Christians everywhere bravely step into the darkness with the light of Christ - compelled by the compassion they have experienced from the Lord and now feel for those still living in darkness. “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” (Isa 9:3) Jesus is not willing that cave dwellers should remain content dwelling in the unchanging darkness of their world. He breaks into the darkness with his blazing glory and invites us to come. Come and share in the light and the warmth. And then go. Go into all the world and point others towards the light.
To all the ex-cave dwellers – be bold as you journey taking the light of Christ to the world. Be assured that He will be with you every step of the way. When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.
Live the Victorious Life,
PT
LONG AGO, or maybe not so long ago, (or maybe even still today) there was a tribe in a dark, cold cavern. The cave dwellers would huddle together and cry against the chill. Loud and long they wailed. It was all they did. It was all they knew to do. The sounds in the cave were mournful, but the people didn’t know it, for they had never known life outside the cave. But then, one day, they heard a different voice. “I have heard your cries,” it announced. “I have felt your chill and seen your darkness. I have come to help.” The cave people grew quiet. They had never heard this voice. Hope sounded strange to their ears. “How can we know you have come to help?” “Trust me,” he answered. “I have what you need.”
The cave people peered through the darkness at the figure of the stranger. He was stacking something, then stooping and stacking more. “What are you doing?” one cried, nervous. The stranger didn’t answer. “What are you making?” one shouted even louder. Still no response. “Tell us!” demanded a third. The visitor stood and spoke in the direction of the voices. “I have what you need.” With that he turned to the pile at his feet and lit it. Wood ignited, flames erupted, and light filled the cavern. The cave people turned away in fear. “Put it out!” they cried. “It hurts to see it.” “Light always hurts before it helps,” he answered. “Step closer. The pain will soon pass.” “Not I,” declared a voice. “Nor I,” agreed a second. “Only a fool would risk exposing his eyes to such light.” The stranger stood next to the fire. “Would you prefer the darkness? Would you prefer the cold? Don’t consult your fears. Take a step of faith.
For a long time no one spoke. The people hovered in groups covering their eyes. The fire builder stood next to the fire. “It’s warm here,” he invited. “He’s right,” one from behind him announced. “It’s warmer.” The stranger turned and saw a figure slowly stepping toward the fire. “I can open my eyes now,” she proclaimed. “I can see.” “Come closer,” invited the fire builder. She did. She stepped into the ring of light. “It’s so warm!” She extended her hands and sighed as her chill began to pass. “Come, everyone! Feel the warmth,” she invited. “Silence, woman!” cried one of the cave dwellers. “Dare you lead us into your folly? Leave us and take your light with you.”
She turned to the stranger. “Why won’t they come?” “They choose the chill, for though it’s cold, it’s what they know. They’d rather be cold than change.” “And live in the dark?” “And live in the dark.” The now-warm woman stood silent. Looking first at the dark, then at the man. “Will you leave the fire?” he asked. She paused, then answered, “I cannot. I cannot bear the cold.” Then she spoke again. “But nor can I bear the thought of my people in darkness.” “You don’t have to,” he responded, reaching into the fire and removing a stick. “Carry this to your people. Tell them the light is here, and the light is warm. Tell them the light is for all who desire it.” And so she took the small flame - and stepped into the shadows. (“A Gentle Thunder” Word Publishing. 1995. by Max Lucado)
Like the cave dwellers in Lucado’s parable we live in a world that is so much like a dark, uncomfortable cave. And the problem is that this world is all any of us has ever known. The cave dwellers had only known darkness, the chill of the cave, and the never-ending mournful wail coming from each other. But for them it was normal – it was the way life ought to be. Though they were miserable, they were protective of their misery. They had a culture of misery and they wanted it to continue unhindered. The principle by which they interpreted life was this: “As it has been – so must it always remain.” The patterns of their long history dictated their anticipation of the future. That’s an oppressive way to live. It assumes that past experiences are always good and right and shouldn’t be questioned. Its underlying control comes from fear – “We want to stay with the familiar!” and pride – “We couldn’t be wrong!” So when the stranger arrives with the warmth and the light of the fire, it frightens them. It angers them. Rather than gladly accepting what he was offering, they shrank away – fearful of the changes it could bring into their lives. The fear of change can be a powerful enslaving force in a person’s life, no matter how miserable the circumstances. We are at heart, creatures of habit – often much more willing to suffer with “what-is” than risk “what-might-be.” To one degree or another we are all cave dwellers.
But the Gospel of Christ brings and calls for change – radical change. More than that, it brings transformation. But it is only experienced by people who risk stepping out of the darkness and coming towards the light. The Bible calls that faith. The good news is that the light and warmth that comes from the love of Jesus Christ is intoxicating and powerful. It completely eradicates the power of fear and pride. Once having experienced it, we wonder why we were ever so fearful of responding to his invitation. Having experienced the light of his love, we wonder what attracted us to stay in the darkness. After stepping out of the shadows and into the warmth of his grace our heart breaks for those who still want to remain in the gloomy darkness. So does the heart of our Savior. He came to reveal the light of his holiness and then commissions us to take it to the world around us. “Don’t hide the light under a bushel,” he says. “Take it to other cave dwellers in the world.” And so Christians everywhere bravely step into the darkness with the light of Christ - compelled by the compassion they have experienced from the Lord and now feel for those still living in darkness. “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” (Isa 9:3) Jesus is not willing that cave dwellers should remain content dwelling in the unchanging darkness of their world. He breaks into the darkness with his blazing glory and invites us to come. Come and share in the light and the warmth. And then go. Go into all the world and point others towards the light.
To all the ex-cave dwellers – be bold as you journey taking the light of Christ to the world. Be assured that He will be with you every step of the way. When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.
Live the Victorious Life,
PT
posted by Larry | 2:50 PM
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