There’s Only One Light
There’s Only One Light
John 8:12–21 They came to the Light of the World, asking him to prove that he’s shining.
You Don’t Put a Light Bulb on Trial
John 8 — They came to the Light of the World, asking him to prove that he’s shining.
In Your Light We See Light
Your faithful love is priceless, God. Humanity finds refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the bounty of your house. You let them drink from your river of pure joy. Within you is the spring of life. In your light we see light.
— Psalm 36:7–9
The simple truths of the Christian faith can be easily grasped by a child, and still take a lifetime to master. This opening psalm points to that simple-yet-difficult faith. All of us understand the need for food. When it gets dark, we reach for the light. My youngest daughter already understands how God loves her.
And it is also the hardest thing in the world.
Because every Sunday we gather and praise God for his priceless love. Then the week starts, and we turn toward other sources of light, fulfillment, and joy instead of God’s boundless love. Why do we find it so hard to receive this simple truth?
Take a moment and reflect: what sources do I run to instead of the one that matters most?
Bread, Water, Light — Jesus and the Psalm
There’s another reason I brought us to Psalm 36 — for several chapters Jesus has been systematically fulfilling this ancient song.
Back in John 6, Jesus feeds five thousand people and then stands up and says, I am the bread of life. Come to me if you are hungry. In John 7, he goes up to the Feast of Tabernacles, and right when the priests were performing their own water ceremony, he shouts that if anyone is thirsty, they should come to him.
And now, in John 8, he stands up and says he is the light of the world.
Bread, water, light — in the same order as Psalm 36.
They feast on the bounty of your house. That is John 6.
You let them drink from your river of pure joy. That is John 7.
In your light we see light. That is John 8.
For generations, Israel had been praying that psalm, asking God to be their food and their drink and their light, and Jesus walks into the middle of their festival and says: It’s me. Everything you have been praying for is standing in front of you.
A Prophet Can’t Come From Galilee?
John 7:53–8:11, the story of the woman caught in adultery, is bracketed off in most modern Bibles because the earliest manuscripts do not have it there. Most scholars have concluded that John did not originally write that story (even though many of us have good reasons to believe it’s still an authentic story of Jesus’ ministry). But something profound happens when we read directly from 7:52 to 8:12, and it’s easy to miss.
At the end of chapter 7, Nicodemus has suggested the Pharisees give Jesus a fair hearing before condemning him, and his peers round on him:
“Are you from Galilee too? Search and see that no prophet arises from Galilee.”
— John 7:52
Right after that, we read:
Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
— John 8:12
There are at least two things wrong with the Pharisees’ reasoning.
The first is that it is simply not true. I ran through the roster of the prophets, and found God calling people from every location, every background, every rung of the ladder. Isaiah moves among the urban elite in Jerusalem. Ezekiel is a priest. Samuel grows up inside the religious establishment. Amos gets yanked out of a field, a simple herdsman until God makes him a mouthpiece. The Pharisees have appointed themselves gatekeepers, and God keeps calling whomever he pleases.
The second problem is that Jesus is operating at a level beyond any of their conclusions.
Their objection about Galilee assumes that what Jesus is claiming is the office of prophet. The Hebrew prophets were men and women called to point at God’s light. They were handed a word from God and were called to faithfully deliver that word to the world.
So Jesus answers the charge by blowing past it. Even if I were only a prophet, you would be wrong, because God calls prophets from wherever he wants. But I am not only a prophet.
The Gospels do name Jesus as a prophet. He brings the word of God, and regularly invokes the prophetic tradition. But he is not merely holding up a lamp so we can see the road.
A prophet says, “I have a word from the Lord.” Jesus stands up and says, “I am the Word.” The prophet says, “God gave me some light.” Jesus says, “I am the light.”
Galilee
And then he does something I find genuinely delightful.
He takes their word — Galilee — and uses it against them.
Because Galilee shows up in the Old Testament. It is in Isaiah, in a passage we read every December:
At an earlier time, God cursed the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but later he glorified the way of the sea, the far side of the Jordan, and the Galilee of the nations. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light. On those living in a pitch-dark land, light has dawned.
— Isaiah 9:1–2
The Pharisees were arguing about prophets, so it may be understandable that this passage was not top of mind. Isaiah 9 is not about a “prophet,” and that is exactly the point.
Keep reading, and you find out who the light actually is:
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore.
— Isaiah 9:6–7
No prophet can come from Galilee, they sneer, so Jesus immediately declares he is the light of the world — the same light Isaiah told us would dawn on… Galilee. In that context, Jesus is saying, I am the light that dawned on the pitch-dark land. I am the child destined to rule the nations, the king on David’s throne forever.
There is no moderate response available to a claim like that. If he means it, there are two options: kill him quickly, or fall on your face and worship. He is not offering himself as a wise teacher you could pull some good advice from. Jesus is saying he alone is the world’s true light.
The Lamps in the Courtyard
We are still at Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles, and the festival had three great elements. There were the booths — families sleeping outside in temporary shelters to remember how God fed and sheltered them in the wilderness. There was the water ritual, which recalled God’s provision of water as well as God’s promised Holy Spirit.
And there was the light.
During the festival, they erected enormous golden lampstands in the temple courts, so tall that young priests climbed ladders with jars of oil to fill the basins at the top. The Mishnah says there was not a courtyard in Jerusalem that the light of that celebration did not reach. Many interpreters see in these lamps a memory of the pillar of fire that led the Exodus generation through the desert.
And John lets us know exactly where Jesus was standing:
These words he spoke in the treasury, as he taught in the temple; but no one arrested him, because his hour had not yet come.
— John 8:20
The treasury was in the Court of the Women. The Court of the Women is where the lampstands stood. He is in the very spot where the lamps were blazing. The pillar of fire has now come in the person of Jesus. No wonder he promises that whoever follows him will not walk in darkness.
Judging the Light
The Pharisees respond by turning the courtyard into a courtroom.
“You are bearing witness about yourself; your testimony is not true.”
— John 8:13
On a human level, they have a point. We are still skeptical of uncorroborated self-testimony. If I were on trial for something that happened last night and my entire defense was I was somewhere else, trust me — no evidence, no witnesses — that is a thin case, and you would be right to say so.
But a courtroom exists because something happened in the dark, and we have to work out what it was. Detective work. Cross-examination. Evidence. That is the right tool for a crime.
It is the wrong tool entirely for a light.
I tried this in the room on Sunday: I looked straight up at the stage light shining down on me to scrutinize it — are you actually giving off light? Prove it — and mostly what I accomplished was hurting my eyes. You do not interrogate a light source. You open your eyes, or you don’t.
The Pharisees find themselves in the absurd position of squinting into the light, convincing themselves it’s not shining.
How Many Paths Up the Mountain?
Jesus is declaring that there is only one light, and he is it. This message confronts a dominant idea in our culture today. Perhaps you’ve encountered one of the following metaphors meant to promote a sort of pluralism or relativism when it comes to faith and spirituality:
The first is the blind men and the elephant. One has the tail, one has a tusk, one has an ear, and each reports something different — a rope, a spear, a fan. Nobody is lying. Everybody is partly right. That, people say, is all religions.
The second is the mountain. God is at the summit, and every spirituality is a different trail up the same peak.
The third one I heard recently: a wide river, and all of us in different boats rowing for the far shore. Some fast, some slow, some drifting, but all of us arriving eventually.
I understand why people gravitate toward those images, but Christianity does not teach any of them.
It does not say Jesus was a wise man who pointed us in a good direction. It says something far more confrontational: there is no trail up the mountain. There is no crossing the river. Not one person in the whole history of the species has had the brilliance or the reason or the detective skills to find the way to the Divine. The elephant is not the problem. Our blindness is.
Nobody has ever found the way up. The only reason any of us has a chance is that the light came down.
And that is what allows Jesus to stand in that courtyard and claim: Maybe none of you can testify about yourselves. I can. John’s Gospel is famously filled with Jesus making “I Am” statements about his identity; there’s one right here that does not get the focus it deserves:
“I am the one who bears witness about myself.”
— John 8:18
Who’s Actually on Trial Here?
Here’s what I think is really happening in this scene.
I picture it set like a courtroom drama — A Few Good Men comes to mind in more ways than one. Jesus is in the dock and accusations are flying. But somewhere in the middle of it, the whole scene inverts. Suddenly we realize that Jesus is not the defendant. They are.
I interviewed for a position many years ago, and the hiring team took me to what I thought were very unconventional places for my “interviews.” I came expecting a sterile conference room, and instead was treated to a winery, a restaurant, and a downtown fair. I got the job, and found out later that they were intentionally putting their candidates in positions where they would have to interact with the public. People can present themselves as polished and professional in an interview — but it’s how you treat the waitress and the gardener that reveals even more about your character.
Jesus makes a similar point in Matthew 25:31–46. It’s how we treat “the least of these” that reflects how well we know Jesus. And notice who the Pharisees have already written off: a nobody from Galilee. Just as the way I engaged with my waitress (apparently) helped me land that job, the way the Pharisees are reacting to Jesus is the biggest indictment of all.
How a person reacts to the light turns out to be the most revealing thing about them.
They came to evaluate Jesus, but their evaluation is the evidence against them. The light is shining, and they are standing with their eyes shut, saying I don’t see anything.
Fire, Fire
Up until verse 21, it was possible to read this as a nice, comfortable story about Jesus offering some ambient light for our path to make our lives a little easier. Then the other shoe drops, and it’s brutal:
So he said to them again, “I am going away, and you will seek me, and you will die in your sin. Where I am going, you cannot come.”
— John 8:21
Jesus, did you have to take it there?
The next several verses go deeper into sin, so we will sit with it properly next week. But it felt important to bring Jesus’ words up here. It moves his statement from nice-to-have to non-negotiable.
Imagine you are asleep in a crowded house, and someone starts running down the hallway shouting fire! Get out! Your first reaction, half awake, might be irritation. Who is this person, and why are they yelling at two in the morning? But if you trust the voice, you don’t hesitate. You get out of bed, and you get out of the house.
That is the register Jesus is speaking in. He is not offering a slightly improved life. He is saying the building is burning and there is one way out. There is no trail up the mountain. There is no crossing the river. It is the light of Christ or nothing.
Which is exactly why he came. He is not shouting to condemn and frighten. He is shouting because the house is on fire and he wants every single person to be saved.
Consider how radically exclusive and inclusive Jesus’ statement, “I am the light of the world,” truly is. Jesus is the light — not “a light,” not “an option,” but the one and only way that any of us can be saved. He’s the light of the world — not for the elite, not for a particular club. Jesus came to give his life for the entire world. The warning about our sin is there because Jesus is offering the solution of grace; we need only receive.
Which brings me back to the beginning — why is it so hard to make Jesus my source? Looking back over just this past week, there were several openings to rest in God’s presence, and instead I spent more time scrolling through YouTube. I was tired and I wanted a fix, so I took an hour and went looking for fullness online. Maybe for you it was a conversation, or a purchase, or a thing you said yes to again. What would it mean to live each day like there was only one light?
A Prayer for Our Week
Your faithful love is priceless, God. Humanity finds refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the bounty of your house. You let them drink from your river of pure joy. Within you is the spring of life. In your light we see light. (Psalm 36)
God, we so easily run toward sources of love, fulfillment, and satisfaction that leave us empty and dry. We fail to trust your word. In you alone is found priceless love, in you alone do we encounter true light.
Forgive us. Extend your grace to us again. Help us not to simply talk about your love, but to walk in it every day.
In your light, may we see light.
This week:
- Name the other source. Look back over the past seven days and find one specific place you went for fullness instead of God.
- Read Psalm 36:7–9. What is God inviting you into this week?
