Longing for lighthouses
As I wander around
this small, tourist town, I just keep thinking, “Why lighthouses?”
This is Chincoteague,
after all. Shouldn’t the predominant decorative
embellishment be a horse? Something like
this, which actually looks nothing like the famous wild ponies.
But the most common ornamental
object in this town is a lighthouse. I
see it block after block. Like on this shed.

And on a mock outhouse.
Leaning in the front
yard.
On a mailbox.
Even on a gravestone.
Of course, there is an
actual lighthouse. (Later, I’ll hike to see it up close.) It’s a striking vertical feature on a flat
landscape, which may explain the fascination.
Still operational, its light can be seen for miles.
This brings to mind something Jesus said to his
followers. Allow me to adjust it slightly to fit our
concept:
“You are the (lighthouse) of
the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.
Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a
stand, and it gives light to all in the (area). In the
same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good
works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. (Matt. 5:14-16)

If followers of Christ
are going to be effective lighthouses, we need some illumination on the answers
to this question: What makes our love distinctive?
One thought for now:
the answer lies in both how we love and who we love. Jesus had much to say about both. And both require us to be more observant, as
well as available.
May our beacon shine
brightly!
Jesus, will you so fill us that
we, your people, might shine your love undimmed by our shallowness, our
smugness, or our smallness of heart.
Inspire us to acts of kindness and self-sacrifice that will help to
navigate others to your Heavenly Father.
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