S2 Ep.26-The Lighthouse In The Storm

When the rain is steady and the sky is dark, it’s easy to believe the storm is the whole story. I open with that simple weather scene and use it as a metaphor for the seasons we all face: foggy days when you cannot see ahead, nights when anxiety gets loud, weeks shaped by grief, loneliness, or a hard question you never wanted to ask out loud: God, where are you?

We sit with Jesus’ words from John 8:12, “I am the light of the world,” and hear them the way the first listeners would have, standing in the temple during the Feast of Tabernacles with massive lamps blazing in the courts. Those lights pointed back to the pillar of fire that guided Israel through the wilderness, and Jesus claims that guiding light has always been pointing to him. That is why this is more than comforting poetry. It’s a declaration of who Christ is when life feels uncertain.

From there, I lean into a lighthouse image: a lighthouse doesn’t stop storms, erase rocks, or roll back fog. It stays faithful, shining where ships are most likely to crash. That becomes practical hope for real life, because Jesus never promises a storm-free faith. He promises presence within the storm and enough light for the next faithful step. We also talk about how disciples reflect that light through quiet, steady love, and how God often meets us through community, including pastors, therapists, doctors, and people who help us keep moving.

If you’re walking through fog right now, press play, share this with someone who needs steady hope, and subscribe and leave a review so more people can find the light. What kind of storm are you navigating today?

Let's Get Into It!!

Transcript

Rain, Storms, And A Metaphor

Speaker 0:08

Hello, friends, and welcome back to Ancient Truth for the Modern Heart. I am Steve Pozzato, and as always, whether you are in your car or taking a walk, whether you're enjoying a cup of something warm in the morning or closing out the day, wherever you are and whenever you are, I am grateful that you are here to spend this time with me. Well, here in Connecticut today, as I record this, there's a steady rain outside, and one of the beautiful things about rain, I think, is that it seems to just make everything a little bit cleaner. The earth is sending down this water that cascades off the roofs. It brings a feeling of peace. It brings a feeling of calm. And all of the dirt and the pollen and everything else washes away. And I think that's a great metaphor for today in our podcast. Rain typically comes with a storm. And we all have storms in our lives that we are going through. And sometimes the storms happen in the dark, and sometimes the fog rolls in with the storms. So today I'd like to get into that a little bit. Let's talk about those storms and how we navigate through them. We'll

I Am The Light Of The World

Speaker 1:49

start with some scripture from John's Gospel, chapter 8, beginning in verse 12. Jesus says, I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. And those are words that many of us have heard countless times. We've sung them in hymns, we've read them during services, worship services, we've seen them embroidered on banners and printed on greeting cards, but sometimes the verses that we know best are the ones we hear least carefully. Because Jesus isn't simply making a comforting statement. Although that would be wonderful if he were just saying something that would comfort us during the storm. Instead, I think he's making an astonishing claim here. He's telling people that he is the very light that has been guiding God's people all along. And today I'd like us to think about that image not simply as light, but as a lighthouse. Because while scripture doesn't use that particular image, I think it helps us to understand something profound about who Christ is. A lighthouse doesn't stop the storms, and it doesn't calm the sea, it doesn't roll back the fog, and it doesn't remove the rocks beneath the waves, even in the darkness. A lighthouse simply remains faithful, shining through the darkness and calling weary sailors safely home. And I think that's a great metaphor for what Jesus is describing. And

Tabernacles Lamps And A Bold Claim

Speaker 3:44

what's interesting is when we think about Scripture, sometimes we ask questions about what is being said. Right? Why here? Why now? Why these words? And in this instance, John tells us that Jesus is teaching in the temple during the Feast of Tabernacles, which is one of Israel's great celebrations. And during this festival, enormous lamps were lit in the temple courts. Ancient writers tell us their light illuminated much of Jerusalem. They reminded God's people of something that they had never forgotten: the pillar of fire that led Israel through the wilderness after the exodus, which would be a considerable storm for them. Imagine if you were standing in that temple. Everywhere you look, brilliant light, a reminder of God's faithfulness, a reminder that God has guided his people through uncertainty before. And then Jesus stands in the middle of it all and says, I am the light of the world. How bold that is. He isn't simply saying, I bring wisdom or I teach truth. He is saying, the light that you have been celebrating, the light that guided Israel through the wilderness, that light has always been pointing toward me. And no wonder the religious leaders immediately began questioning him. It's not poetic language that he's speaking, it's a declaration about his own identity. And like the cleansing rain, he was coming to wash fear and doubt away from us. Amidst the storms, amidst the fog, and even in the darkness.

What Darkness Can Feel Like

Speaker 5:42

Speaking of darkness, most of us don't think much about light until it's gone. When the power goes out, everything changes, right? Suddenly familiar rooms become unfamiliar as we try to navigate our way through in the dark. The simplest tasks become difficult. We slow down, we become cautious, and spiritually, life can feel exactly the same way. Darkness isn't always sin, and it isn't always pain. But sometimes it is grief. Sometimes it's anxiety or depression or loneliness, standing beside a hospital bed, waiting for test results, wondering how you'll make it through another week. And sometimes it is simply asking, God, where are you? And if you've ever asked that question, well, then you're in good company. Because a great many of us have asked it. And if you're looking in Scripture, David asked it, Elijah asked it, Job asked it, and even Jesus cries from the cross, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? So, my friends, darkness isn't proof that God has abandoned us. In fact, often it's where we learn to trust Him the most deeply. I have said this before in other podcasts and in sermons, and I'll say it again. It does not take a room bathed in light. Sometimes a candle, a flickering candle, also defeats the darkness. A glimmer of hope. And that's why one of my favorite images is a lighthouse, especially for this scripture. Think about where they are built for a moment. They're not in peaceful meadows or in quiet neighborhoods, they're built exactly where ships are most likely to crash. They're on rocky coastlines, sometimes they're on dangerous cliffs, but amid violent seas, built to withstand storms and sea surges, built to shine through the fog, built to withstand the darkness. And the lighthouse doesn't eliminate the danger, it simply makes the way through it visible. And I think that's Christ. And notice something Jesus never promises. He never ever promises a storm-free life. He doesn't say, follow me and you'll never be sick. And he doesn't say follow me and you'll never grieve, or follow me and everything will work out exactly the way you planned. Pray to me and you'll have that million dollars. Pray to me and you'll never experience pain again. Instead, he simply says, Follow me. And I say simple because as I've said before, it is the easiest choice to follow Christ, but sometimes it can be the hardest path to walk. But it is so worth it. His promise is not the absence of storms, it is his presence within the storm. And that I think is a much deeper promise. And

Fog Days And The Next Step

Speaker 9:18

as I look out the window, I'm reminded that living here in New England, we know a thing or two about fog. You can be driving down the road under a perfectly blue sky, and suddenly visibility disappears. Grip the spearing uh steering wheel a little bit tighter and slow down and can't see miles ahead anymore. The headlights come on. And sometimes you can barely see the next few yards in front of you. And life does that too. One phone call, a diagnosis, an unexpected loss. Loss, sorry, a broken relationship, a financial setback. One moment, and suddenly the future that seemed perfectly clear becomes a bit less easy to see, or completely hidden. Fog has a strange way of making us think we're alone. It muffles sound, it hides familiar landmarks, it makes us question whether we've somehow drifted off course. And faith can feel that way too. There are seasons when prayer feels like it reaches only the ceiling, when scripture seems unusually quiet, or when God feels farther away than we would like. But here is a beautiful truth. The lighthouse doesn't stop shining because the fog is thick. In fact, the thicker the fog, the more important the light becomes. God's presence isn't measured. Presence isn't measured by how clearly we see him. God's presence is measured by his faithfulness, and his faithfulness has never failed. And I wonder if our faith continues to be like the faithful lighthouse keeper who makes sure that the bulb is changed, or in the ancient days that the fire was lit. And Jesus shines that light through us, never allowing it to go out. So our faith in Christ keeps that lighthouse standing. We always know that there is a place where we can be led through the danger. No matter how foggy, no matter how dark. And I think one of the hardest lessons in accepting that God doesn't show us the whole journey, especially in those moments in the foggy days, we would love to have floodlights. We want to know what's coming six months from now. We want answers, we want certainty because that would make us comforted in the knowledge of what is to come ahead. We can prepare for it. But instead, God often gives us enough light for the next faithful step. Think about Israel in the wilderness. The pillar of fire didn't reveal the entire promised land. It simply stayed with them. Their faith in following the light, keeping that light lit, God saying, Come to me, I am the light, and I will always be with you. It stayed with them night after night, stayed with them day after day, and God wasn't showing them the destination nearly as much as He was teaching them to trust the guide. And as I often wonder, I wonder if that is another aspect of how discipleship works. Maybe faith isn't about seeing farther, it's about trusting deeper. And maybe the miracle isn't that we suddenly know where the road leads, but the miracle is discovering Christ walking beside us while we travel it. And offering us something to move toward, to be safe in that faith. For

Reflecting Christ Without Spotlighting Ourselves

Speaker 13:26

him to say, I am here. And there's another beautiful movement in scripture, too, as I think on it, Jesus tells us, I am the light of the world, and then in Matthew's gospel, he tells his disciples, you are the light of the world. Right? We just went over that in the Sermon on the Mount. And notice he doesn't ask us to become the source. He asks us to become reflections. The purpose of a lighthouse isn't to draw attention to itself. No sailor ever reaches shore because they admired the lighthouse. They reached shore because the lighthouse pointed them in the right direction. And that's the calling, I think, of us as followers of Christ. Our lives aren't meant to make people say, look at me. They're meant to help people say, Look at Christ. You can see him through me. I am following him toward the lighthouse. And if I am reflecting his light, then you are safe with me. And sometimes that happens through preaching or through serving, through feeding someone who is hungry, forgiving someone who hurt us, or by simply setting quietly down the weight. And the brightest lights are often the quietest ones. But they are steadfast. And they are the points we know we can go to be safe in Him. And I won't pretend to know what waters you are sailing through today. Maybe life is peaceful, and maybe you're carrying burdens that no one else can see. Because as humans we get pretty good at hiding those things, don't we? Maybe you're grieving or exhausted. Maybe you're questioning, and maybe the fog is so thick that you honestly can't imagine what tomorrow will look like. And if that's where you are, hear these words of Jesus once again. I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the night of life. A light of life. Sorry. Notice careful what he doesn't say. Boy, I'm not doing great at talking today, am I? Notice carefully what he doesn't say. He doesn't say that you'll ever you'll never encounter darkness, and he says instead that you won't walk through it without him. We

Not Alone: Community And Helpers

Speaker 16:13

spoke last week about being together and being in community and knowing that Christ is with us, not only as Christ Himself and as the light, but also in the people that He places in our lives who are there to help. Teachers, pastors, therapists, social workers, doctors, people who seek to do justice. He doesn't say that we will walk through this path and this life and the fog alone. That's the promise. The light still shines, the lighthouse still stands. Christ is calling us home to safety. Every act of grace and every moment of hope, every quiet prayer and every faithful step, he is there. Whether he is the light or he is those who are helping us to move toward the light in our life, those that we are companions to, and who are companions to us as we move through the fog together. He is there, waiting, leading, and loving, and reminding us that no darkness, not grief, not fear, not doubt, and not even death itself can overcome the light of God revealed in Jesus Christ. Someday the storm will pass, and the fog will lift, and the darkness will become day. But the lighthouse will still shine, regardless. Let

Prayer, Peace, And Looking Up

Speaker 18:13

us pray together, friends. Loving and faithful God, thank you for sending Jesus the light of the world. When the seas of life become rough and when the fog clouds our vision, when fear tempts us to believe we are alone, help us remember that Christ's light has never gone out. Give us courage to trust you one step at a time. Help us become reflections of your love so that others might find hope through our kindness, our compassion, and our faith. May our lives always point beyond ourselves and toward the one who guides us safely home. We ask all of this in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior, our lighthouse, our beacon. Amen. Friends, we are all human. And as I said last week, no one gets to escape being human. Not even Jesus himself when he walked the earth. So go through this day, whether it is raining where you are, whether there is a storm brewing, whether there is fog before you, or whether you are in the dark of night, look up. The lighthouse is still shining. Look up. And so, my friends, when you have that light in front of you, carry it with you. Because as long as you carry it with you, there will you go in peace wherever you go. Until next time, my friends, be well. Farewell. And take care of the phone.