Turning on the Lights: Thoughts on John 7–8
Today’s reading brought me to John 7–8, where one line in particular stayed with me: “Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, ‘I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life’” (John 8:12, NLT).
The imagery of light and darkness is hard to miss. It’s a metaphor that shows up not just in the Bible, but across cultures and traditions. Light often symbolizes clarity, safety, or truth, while darkness tends to represent confusion, danger, or the unknown. What I find interesting is how universal this contrast feels. Even in everyday life, we speak about being “in the dark” when we don’t know something, or we talk about “seeing the light” when we gain new understanding. There’s something deeply human about attaching meaning to these opposites.
A Bold Claim in a Cloudy Debate
In the context of John 8, the statement comes after a series of debates where people were questioning who Jesus was and where his authority came from. The declaration of being “the light of the world” feels like a bold claim of certainty in the middle of that uncertainty. Light cuts through the dark; it changes how we perceive everything around us. Perhaps this image is less about answering every doubt and more about pointing to a way of orienting oneself—choosing light instead of stumbling in the dark.
What I keep circling back to is the tension between those who wanted a clear answer about Jesus’ identity and the metaphorical way he often spoke. A metaphor like light doesn’t give you a neat, literal explanation. It leaves room for interpretation. What does it mean to walk in darkness? Is it ignorance? Fear? Dishonesty? And what does it mean to have “the light that leads to life”? Understanding? Courage? Integrity? The text doesn’t define it outright, and maybe that’s why it has endured for centuries—it speaks differently depending on who is reading it and what they’re bringing to the text.
Before the Light Switch
I also find it worth noting how this metaphor connects to very basic human experience. Before electricity, light was precious and fragile. A torch or lamp could only reach so far. Darkness wasn’t just an inconvenience; it carried real risks. Against that backdrop, to say “I am the light of the world” would have carried a weight that’s easy to overlook in our modern, well-lit world. The promise of light was more than symbolic—it meant safety, visibility, and the ability to keep moving forward.
So when I read this passage today, I find myself wondering how we each think about “light” in our own lives. Not in a strictly religious sense, but in terms of what helps us move with clarity instead of confusion, what gives us direction instead of leaving us stumbling. The metaphor invites that kind of personal reflection, no matter where you stand on belief. And maybe that’s why it continues to have power: because everyone, in some way, knows what it feels like to long for light when things seem dark.