I shared a bunkbed with my older brother when I was a kid. Mine was the bottom bunk.
Just outside of our bedroom was the ‘big green chair’ as we called it (there was a smaller green chair in an opposite corner of our living room). Its place was on the edge of the living room. A mother and daughter lamp stood over the chair.
Being the youngest in our family, my brother and I were the first to bed. I had two pillows in my bed. One was my regular pillow and the other was intended to be standing up against the bunk ladder so I wouldn’t bang my head on it. But rather than being used for its intended purpose, the pillow would always find itself under my head and my head would wind up practically between the ladder steps. I’d lie on my stomach, my face towards the door.
The lamp outside our bedroom was usually on at night. And its light would find its way underneath our door, reaching across the carpet towards our bed. It was a welcome companion. I spent a lot of time staring at that illuminated floor.
Later in life, I had the same bedroom to myself. Now the bed was a single and it was by the opposite wall. I had no view of the door and I had no view of the light that shone under it. I was probably up later than my parents at that point in my life anyways.
But I had a view of the window. My blinds were pulled down but I discovered at some point lying on my stomach as I did when I was a kid, there was one green Christmas light that shone through one little crack if I lay in the right spot. It became my new place to lie, my new companion. I spent a lot of time staring at that little green light.
I found comfort in those lights. Sometimes I still wake up and in my half-asleep state expecting to be staring at my childhood door. I was reminded of these lights just the other night as I was laying in bed and someone came downstairs and turned on a light and it shone underneath my basement bedroom door.
As a kid maybe they reminded me my father and mother were waiting just on the other side of my door if I needed them. Maybe that green Christmas light did something similar by association.
When everything else in my room was dark, there was a little light still shining in.
The world was dark. But there was always a promise. There was always a light creeping underneath the door and threatening to shatter the darkness. There was the hope a loving parent was waiting on the other side of the door.
The promise of a Messiah. The promise of the light of the world. The promise the door would not remain closed forever. The promise of Jesus.
The Christmas story tells us a simple truth: light can be found in even the unlikeliest of places. In a barn. In a manger. The light under the door is offered to all. Shepherds and kings. Rich and poor. Old and young.
Emmanuel. God is with us.
Life can seem bleak and hopeless. Like the lamp’s been turned off and everyone’s gone to bed. We can feel alone in the dark. In this season of Christmas, let’s remember there’s a light shining under the door.
If only we’d open our eyes to see it.
Maybe it’s beckoning us to come and see what’s on the other side of the door.