Two nights ago, there was a big thunderstorm around 4 in the morning. Lots of flashes and pops of thunder. I was in the kitchen getting something to eat and then I stretched out on the couch. Still dark outside.
Just as I was dozing off, a sharp crack of thunder hit and the lights came on in the living room — by themselves. Obviously a power surge. Still, when it’s that early in the morning, it’s kind of spooky.
I’ll get to the resolution of the lights in just a second but since I couldn’t fall asleep, I started to think about all the literary and symbolic relationships of light. (Yea, being a writer, I think like that sometimes!)
Jesus is depicted as the light of the world in 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.’”
Then I thought of Ernest Hemingway and a short story he wrote called “Light of the World” that I always had a hard time figuring out the meaning behind it. (There is always meaning behind his stories!)
Michael Reynolds hints that the story was a direct response to a painting (posted above) his mother had donated to her local church in honor of her father. Hemingway thought the gift was a show of her vanity (page 104, The Young Hemingway).
The painting is quite interesting. Doesn’t seem like many people have been calling on that door and the door has no handle.
Anyway, it took three or four clicks but I got the light to turn off. But, my thoughts on Jesus as the light of the world continued well into the next few days.