Technically, No. The church has absolutely nothing to do with Daylight Saving time other than to be grumpy about it because the twice-yearly switch seems to affect our services most of all. But as I hope you all are learning by now, such a lack of direct connection has never stopped me from making a connection. Even Daylight Savings time can be used to help folks understand some crucial element of the Gospel.
This is type of link that I drew last week when I was talking to the children of my church. The Gospel lesson for the day was the portion of John’s gospel spanning John 3:16. yes, it also included the Snake on a Stick reference that I talked about on the blog last week, but I didn’t think the kids were quite ready to process that. They looked tired; like they hadn’t slept all of the previous night.
And there was my opening.
The end of the lectionary passage that contains both the Snake on a Stick reference and John 3:16 also contains a teaching of Jesus about the love of light and darkness. Speaking metaphorically, Jesus suggests that those who do evil in this life love darkness better than light because it helps to hide their misdeeds. Conversely, he suggests that those who love light do so because they want people to see their works and Glorify God in the process. It’s really a simple concept. But it’s also one that escapes many in our always-on, electric-lighting culture. We don’t experience the darkness in the same way that our ancestors did. We don’t fear it and we don’t hate it.
Except one morning each year.
If you’re like me and you spend a good part of the year driving both to and from work in the dark, there is something magical about the days near the end of February where the morning commute seems to be even slightly brighter. Hope seems just around the corner. Or, perhaps more appropriately, just over the horizon.
But then we “spring forward” and, in a single morning, we are plunged back into darkness. Yes, the afternoons are longer, but that never changes the immediate, almost visceral feeling of hatred that we have for the encroaching darkness. Maybe this is making a mountain out of a molehill. Then again, maybe it is a sign that we are, in fact, made for the light.