This Little Light Of Mine

This little light of mine.

Just one flicker.

It feels so small. So fragile. So easily swallowed up.

But place that spark in the midnight of a world gone dim—

and it is enough to break the dark.

One tiny flame—

and still it speaks: There is hope. There is refuge.

No night can last forever. Light is breaking through.

We’re tempted, aren’t we, to hide our light under the bushel of fear?

To believe our one fragile flicker cannot pierce the heavy shadow.

But God.

The two words that shift everything.

He takes your single spark and joins it with other brave embers—

until together they blaze as a city on a hill.

And a city on a hill?

It cannot be hidden.

Its glow becomes a compass—

drawing prodigals home, casting out the darkness that seeks to steal and destroy.

A city on a hill—

I remember Golgotha. The hill called the Skull. The place where it seemed the shadows had swallowed the light whole.

But God.

The cross stood, and the final word was His.

Death lost its sting. The tomb broke open.

What the enemy meant to kill and crush became the very place where

Light Himself stepped into the night and declared, “Life—abundant, eternal.”

The city on a hill blazes still.

The Light of Christ—unquenchable, unhidden—

shines even in the darkest of midnights.

So, take heart, weary one.

Hold out your flame.

Let your little light shine before men—

and know, in His hands,

it will never be small.