LIGHT? T'WAS LOVE

July 04, 2025

I remember that day vividly:

Walking through that path with my hand tucked into His - my Elder.

Yes, my Elder.

The possessive pronoun wasn’t careless; it meant something deeper. It spoke of years of consistency, love, and the quiet comfort of knowing someone who always came back for me.

He had visited me since I was a child, and though His visits weren’t daily, each one left marks in my spirit. This time, however, felt different. It felt heavier.

The world around us was cloaked in darkness so thick it felt alive. Only the light radiating from Him kept me from stumbling. As we walked, I noticed a pillar of light far off - a destination, maybe, or a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

Then, I saw her.

A young woman walking along the path, bruises on her skin, a golden badge on her shoulder hiding an old scar that seemed to heal by secondary intention. She moved slowly, cautiously, the scar still part of her story.

My Elder saw my questioning eyes and spoke gently:

“She got that deep cut on her deltoid muscle when she was eight. She ignored it, hoping the world’s pity would fill her emptiness. For eleven years, she walked the path of self-pity. And because there was no light on that path, she constantly sustained these bruises. When she finally came to the end of herself, I found her, healed her wound, and covered her scar with a golden badge.”

My heart was heavy with questions: What wounded her so deeply at that age? Why did no one come to rescue her? Why let the wound fester for so long?

But He stopped my thoughts softly.

“Those questions are less important now. What matters is that she finally let me heal her. And then, I gave her one of my most treasured gifts...”

At first, I couldn’t see what it was. She had no crown, no fancy garment, no gem-studded rings. But then, on her wrist, I noticed it:

A plain bracelet, but full of light. It didn’t glitter like gold; it illuminated - guiding her steps toward the distant pillar of light.

But then I noticed that as she walked, something shifted.

She now moved less vertically and more sideways. She paused to argue with others wearing similar bracelets, debating why one shone brighter than another. Once, she flexed her wrist, drawing the bracelet closer to her golden badge, and it glittered - and people stopped to watch in awe.

Instead of continuing toward the pillar, she stayed, soaking in their admiration.

My Elder sighed, and His words trembled:

“How quickly humans forget. The light wasn’t meant to gather applause. It was given so she could walk the path and eventually become a pillar of light herself. But she's settled for admiration, wasting years comparing revelations and seeking validation. She's lost sight of the journey. Purpose distorted.”

His pain mirrored my own.

How often had I also done this? How many times had I traded pursuit for applause, presence for platform, and intimacy for influence?

I remembered Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb. Angels appeared to her, but she wasn’t satisfied - she cried and waited for Jesus. Did I truly want Jesus or I simply craved giftings and encounters? Did I truly want to walk His path or I just enjoy the company of the good guys walking same path?

Before I could speak, something caught my attention.

I saw her talking to someone:

“So you’ll give me the gold anklet if I give you my light bracelet?” she asked.

“Of course,” came the reply. “And this anklet glitters on its own, no light needed.”

The offer seemed good to her as she tried to unhook the bracelet.

My Elder wept.

Tears ran down His cheeks and fell onto my arm. He squeezed my hands with so much pressure which mirrored the pain in His heart. His voice broke:

“I told her: keep your eyes on the light. Move forward. The moment she turned aside for admiration, this became inevitable. Now, like Dinah, she has wandered beyond the borders of safety in search of what glitters more.”

I was undone.

Was it really about a bracelet? Couldn’t He give her another? Why cry this much?

“It was never about the light itself,” He whispered.

“It was about my love. The light was a token of our shared intimacy. If she threw it away so cheaply, it means she forgot what we shared.”

A verse pierced my spirit like an arrow:

“Do not love the world… for if anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” (1 John 2:15)

Before fading, He left me with these words:

“Her only hope now is the ministry of the Missionary..."

"Someone must remind her of the love that started it all.

Someone must lead her back to the path.

Someone must wipe these tears of mine.

That someone, that missionary, will it be YOU?"