In a Good Light

The beam from my flashlight bounced off the green-gray water to flicker on the pitted concrete wall. Its beauty startled me.

“How does a reflection work?” I wondered. Surely the answer lay beyond my grasp, tangled in waves and particles and quantum something-or-other. Still, even deeper, I pondered, “What is light?”

As the light fluttered among tattered spider webs, my curiosity of how and what began to fade. Instead, I thought of that first day of creation, when God uttered, “Let there be light.” At that moment, he saw not only the inaugural spark illumine the void but also this battery-powered reflection trembling on my basement wall.

As he established the laws of nature and cycles of light and darkness, he saw me, 6,000 years later in rubber boots, standing in a fallen world where basements flood, sump pumps fail, and flashlights illumine shadows.

His light shines in darkness. And it is still good.