Keep the Light On

Read

John 8:12 “When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’”

Think

The tree might still be glowing, but everything else feels quieter. The rush has slowed. The gifts have been unwrapped. The playlists are fading. And in the space after Christmas, we face a choice: do we move on—or do we let the light of Christ move us forward?

Jesus didn’t come to give us a fleeting moment of warmth. He came to give us light—real, lasting, life-altering light. In John 8:12, he says, “I am the light of the world.” Not I was. Not I’ll be again someday. But I am. Right now. Still.

The danger after Christmas is that we compartmentalize the wonder. We tuck away the nativity scene, pack up the decorations, and unintentionally place the miracle of God-with-us back into storage. But the story didn’t end in the manger. It began there. And now, the light that came into the world is meant to live in you.

Jesus’ promise is bold: “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” That means following him changes the way you walk. It changes what you see. It pushes back the shadows that try to creep in after the candles have gone out.

The light is not seasonal. It’s eternal. And the invitation today is simple but powerful: keep the light on.

Don’t let the wonder fade with the wrapping paper. Don’t forget the nearness of God just because the calendar flips. Christmas was never meant to be a standalone celebration. It was always the beginning of something bigger—a life lit by the presence of Christ.

We live in a world that drifts back into darkness quickly. The headlines return. The noise rises. Our own hearts get crowded again. That’s why Jesus’ words matter so much now: “Follow me.” Not just on the high holy days. Not just when things feel magical. But in the everyday steps, in the quiet routines, in the moments no one else sees.

Following Jesus isn’t a one-time prayer or a seasonal rhythm—it’s a decision that reshapes your entire life. But like any light source, it requires attentiveness. Candles have to be relit. Lamps have to be plugged in. Hearts have to be returned to their source.

One of the best ways to keep the light on is through intentional remembrance. Think back to how God showed up this Christmas. Was it through a moment of peace? A word of encouragement? A renewed sense of hope? Don’t rush past those moments. Rehearse them. Write them down. Tell someone. Let the light of Christ deepen in you by calling it to mind again and again.

You’re not walking into the new year alone. You’re being led by the same Savior who stepped into the darkness and lit it from within. That light hasn’t dimmed. It hasn’t flickered out. It still burns with purpose, and it still calls your name.

The world may pack up Christmas quickly, but the kingdom of God doesn’t move on so fast. The incarnation isn’t a holiday highlight—it’s a whole new way of living. Christ’s birth was a declaration that the darkness will not win, that God is not distant, and that light has come to dwell in us.

If the joy of Christmas felt fleeting this year, take heart: what was real about it hasn’t gone anywhere. The decorations may disappear, but the light remains. It shines in hospital rooms and quiet kitchens. It burns in late-night prayers and early morning faithfulness. It’s present in grief, in celebration, in confusion, and in calm.

To keep the light on means refusing to live like Jesus is a seasonal guest. It means choosing, again and again, to be a follower of the light. That begins right here—on this in-between day, when the world is quiet and your heart has space to listen.

And here’s the beauty: even when your faith feels dim, his light doesn’t go out. Even when you’re tired or distracted or unsure what to pray, his light keeps shining. You are not the source—you’re the reflection. Your job isn’t to manufacture brightness. It’s to turn toward it. Keep turning. Keep looking. Keep following.

Apply

Light a candle today—not as a decoration, but as a declaration. Let it remind you that Jesus is still here, still speaking, still shining. As it burns, ask: What part of my life needs the light of Christ right now? Where is he inviting me to follow?

Pray

Jesus, you are the light of the world. Don’t let me treat your coming like a moment that’s already passed. Help me follow your light into this day and every day that follows. Let your presence shape my priorities, my thoughts, and my steps. I want to live like you are here—because you are. In Jesus’ name. Amen.