For Unto Us…
The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
on them light has shined.
You have multiplied the nation,
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as people exult when dividing plunder.
For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time onwards and for evermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.
I have always been fascinated with light and time and the intangible mysteries at the heart of an inexhaustible God. Tonight, I want to tell you about how light is the perfect means of understanding Christ. Light is timeless. Clocks don’t move at the speed of light. Light is eternal. If unhindered it will travel throughout the universe from beginning to end. Light is how we measure what is. If something doesn’t interact with light it’s difficult, not impossible, but difficult to say that whatever it is, exists at all. To say that—"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined” is a tragic understatement. There’s a reason why we sing Silent Night by candlelight, and it goes beyond its beauty, simplicity, and peace. Light is never meant to illuminate itself. It’s job, so to speak, is to illuminate everything but itself. Light is humble, if things can be humble. When Jesus says “I am the light of the world” I know it’s a metaphor…but it’s a really good one.
But none of this matters unless we open our eyes. Isaiah doesn’t want us to stare at the light because if we do, we will become blinded. What is the light illuminating? What does Isaiah want us to see. First, light is offered to those who walk in darkness. Isaiah doesn’t say that those who walk in darkness are shut out, or that they are to blindly grasp for torches to light their own way. To those who need light, light is given. Praise be to God!
What does Isaiah want us to see?
You have multiplied the nation,
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
God increases our joy. There is an assumption of darkness and room for growth. Joy is the steadfast assurance that God is with us. God makes the divine presence abundantly known, sometimes in obvious ways—tonight you find yourself at a Christmas Eve service. Sometimes it can be not-so-obvious—a conversation, a gift, a text to a friend that seemed to be sent right at the right time. Joy is neither happy nor sad. It is “other,” and it is from God. As Isaiah says, there is joy at the harvest, which means it takes time and great work, and at the end of the season it is what nourishes us.
What does Isaiah want us to see with this light?
For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor,
you have broken
What is it that is keeping you shackled? The yoke across our shoulders, the weight that presses us down—these are not things God expects us to carry alone. Isaiah speaks of God breaking the yoke and shattering the rod of oppression, but this isn’t just about political or physical freedom. It’s about the burdens we carry in our hearts and minds. It’s about the relentless inner critic, the guilt that lingers from past mistakes, the fear that whispers, “You’ll never be enough.” In the light of Christ, these burdens are not ignored or minimized—they are broken. God doesn’t demand that we find the strength to cast them off ourselves. Instead, God steps in and does the breaking for us. The light reveals not only the burden, but the freedom waiting just beyond it.
What does Isaiah want us to see?
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
Isaiah wants us to see freedom—not just from oppression, but from the very tools of violence we too often choose. The light doesn’t just show us what binds us; it shows us the promise of those chains being broken. What are the boots that have tramped through your life? What battles—external or internal—have left scars? This is the good news: those boots don’t last. They’re fuel for the fire. And it’s not just any fire; it’s the fire of transformation. This isn’t destruction for the sake of destruction but a divine reimagining.
For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
What are we to see? The light reveals that darkness is not eternal, God’s presence is abundantly close, our inner critic is told to shut its mouth, and we are perpetually being transformed by grace, and all of this is presented to us in the form of a vulnerable love born to a humble family upon whom the hopes and fears of all the years rest.
And so, the light invites us to trust in a God who turns the ordinary into the extraordinary. A child is born, vulnerable and small, yet he carries the weight of eternity. In him, we see the mystery of light and time made flesh, the humility of love that seeks not its own glory but ours. The Prince of Peace doesn’t arrive with armies or force but with the quiet, unyielding brilliance of light breaking into the darkest of places. This light, this Christ, illuminates not just the way forward but also the truth that God has been with us all along. Can we trust this light to do what it was sent to do? To guide, to heal, and to make all things new?
Tonight, we gather in its glow. Not just the candles we hold but the light of Christ that burns within us. This light doesn’t remove all shadows, but it does remind us that darkness cannot overcome it. Whatever burden you carried into this place tonight, whatever battle has left you scarred, know this: the child we celebrate is the light that will never fail you. His birth is the declaration that love has the final word. His light is not just for seeing but for walking—walking in freedom, in joy, and into a world that desperately needs to see it through us. So, go and walk in the light, for it has come, and it is with you. Amen.
