The Lantern of Hope: Finding Light in the Midst of Darkness (The First Light of Hope)

Advent is a season of anticipation, a time to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. In the midst of a busy, chaotic world, it can be easy to lose sight of hope. In this sermon, Pastor Gina shares the story of Josiah and the lantern—a simple yet powerful reminder that even the smallest light can guide us through darkness. As we reflect on Jesus’ first message in Galilee, we are invited to recognize the hope within us and share it with others. Whether through a smile, a kind word, or simply being present, each of us carries the potential to light the way for someone else.

message by Pastor Gina Johnson

Chapter One: Josiah and the Lantern

Josiah wasn't sure when Christmas started feeling blurry. He was only 10, after all. Maybe it was because when he ran into the fridge, he saw this long to-do list taped there that his mom didn't always put up, but this year he noticed it because it took almost the entire freezer. Maybe it was the way that his mom and aunts were all gathered, talking about how crazy this month was going to be. Or maybe it was because, as he noticed everyone around him getting ready for Christmas, he didn't feel the warm, sparkly feeling that some of his friends and other people had.

There was a chilly night when he decided to zip up his coat and take a walk. He slipped out the front door quietly, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed by his mom. He was only 10, so there was only so far that he could go, but he liked to walk to the end of the street and sit on the curb where the streetlight had been burnt out for years. It was the darkest spot in the neighborhood, and this little boy considered it to be his thinking spot.

So he approached his trusted spot and—oh!—there was something glowing. It was a metal lantern sitting on the ground with a tiny flame. This was odd, but being a young boy, he was curious and rather brave.

He bent down and whispered to the lantern, “Why are you here?” Now, lanterns don't talk, and Josiah wasn't expecting the lantern to talk; however, he felt it answered him with a warm hug in his chest, saying, “Take me with you.” And so, there in that moment, as a slight breeze came into the air, Josiah picked up the lantern and began to walk home. The flame stayed strong, bright, and steady. He didn't understand it. He didn't even realize what he was doing; he just knew that something special had quietly begun. It's something that some people would call hope.

And so, we'll continue in our service, in our sermon series, as we've been walking these past few weeks, following Jesus backwards. When we began our journey, we met Jesus at sunrise at the campfire, where we recognized we were welcomed. Then we were invited to Levi's table, where there was a seat for us to belong. And let us not forget last week, where we journeyed to the fig tree and discovered that Jesus sees us even long before we see Him.

But today, in our backwards trek, we're going to go a moment even earlier. This is before all the crowds were closing in. This is before all the demonstrations of miracles. This was before He even began calling the disciples. Today, we find Jesus walking the road to Galilee, and there was a flame within Him, much like a lantern.

It was the flame of the kingdom living and glowing, and this is where Advent begins. So today, our scripture reading—short yet powerful—comes from Mark chapter 1, verses 14 and 15: “After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. ‘The time has come,’ he said. ‘The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news.’”

This was Jesus's first public message. He didn't make it full of glitz and glam; He was simply speaking these words to the in-between. And what I mean by that: it was the in-between where this world clearly wasn't ready for the good news, yet we knew that something magnificent was on the horizon.

The world clearly wasn't ready because we could see that John had been arrested. The government held all the power. People were tired and overworked. People were worried about their families; they were carrying stress quietly that they didn't necessarily share out loud. And honestly, doesn't that remind us of our world today? People being tired, people being overworked, carrying stress—some quietly, some not so quiet. The headlines are full of conflict. Families are stretched with prices rising and things changing, and loved ones are facing health issues. There's anxiety that tends to settle in, and even amplify, at this time of year, that feels almost like a heaviness in our chest.

But in this moment that's taking place on that road to Galilee, Jesus steps forward and He says, “The kingdom has come near.” He's not waiting for everything to be fixed. He's not waiting for perfection. But He's coming in with the voice of hope, recognizing that people are not necessarily feeling strong.

That's what Jesus does. He comes into the middle of life. He comes into the world that may be feeling heavy and uncertain, waiting for something to change, and He brings His words that are powerful.

Jesus was bringing forth a voice of hope that was going to change the narrative, that was going to break away the illusions and the stories that people have been living under for so long. It was the strength of His presence that He didn't need fireworks. He didn't need a big band to go before Him. It was a quiet entrance, and as He made that entrance, hope arrived.

Hope is that moment where panic becomes still inside of you. Hope is that moment as you're rushing through things and suddenly you feel that breath you didn't even know you were needing. Hope is that moment when you're scared and you just need to go out and take a walk because you don't know what you're feeling, and there's a lantern sitting on the sidewalk. Hope can be that time when you don't want to speak to anyone, you don't want to hear anything, and in that moment of desperation, you hear God say, “I am near.” Even the smallest light still has a glow, and sometimes it is that small first light of hope that is exactly what we need.

But a lot of us struggle because sometimes we have been experiencing something for so long that we let it talk us out of letting hope in. We've been carrying around disappointment to convince us that that's all we're ever going to feel. Maybe we'll have a little moment of feeling up, but ultimately, most of the time we're weighed down with burden and pressure and things to do, and hope is hard to see—especially when we've trained our minds that, “Man, I hope this gets better,” but we've already convinced ourselves that that's a long way off.

We let the weight of grief, or sometimes the sting of being hurt by our close friends or someone letting us down—even though they didn't mean to—or perhaps an unexpected situation: a loss, a sudden illness, a change we weren't planning on. And when that hurt comes in, it tries to declare that this is how it's going to be from here on out. And if that discouragement starts to whisper loud enough and frequently enough, then everything will start to follow the pattern of, “This is how it's going to be.”

We've all had seasons in our life where we've decided to protect ourselves by expecting less. “I don't want to get my hopes up. Don't get your hopes up, because if you do, you might just be let down.” But hope isn't meant to be seen that way. That's exactly what Jesus is trying to show here. He steps into a world where there is oppression, poverty, political tension—and as we recognize, that's something that still exists today.

And so this message still rings loud: In the face of exhaustion, do you dare to announce that the kingdom is near? Jesus said in the midst of all this exhaustion, “The kingdom is near.” Not only is it near, none of these other things have control over it. You cannot stop the hope and power that comes from God.

Jesus reminds us that we are not governed by our circumstances. We are not defined by what is happening around us, and we do not amount to the labels placed on us throughout our lives. He continues to speak hope in a place that feels intentionally weakened by higher powers, by other entities, by systems and structures. He comes and says to the community, “Freedom is here for you. Hope is available for you.” Jesus refuses to let them succumb to their current reality. The same is true for us. We don't have to let fear, stress, and exhaustion decide who we are. We don't have to let every place we've been let down or fallen short—whether by ourselves or by someone else—determine our future.

Some people don't get caught up in hope because they see it as blind optimism. “You're wishing and hoping, and that's never gonna happen.” But the truth is, hope comes with a form of courage.

It's a courage to believe that God is always working, that everything is perfect—even when everything around us doesn't look that way—that the presence of God is there, working, and things are coming together. Embracing hope doesn't mean pretending we're okay. Hope simply refuses to let our pain decide what's next. It refuses to let our situation determine: How big is your God? How strong is your faith? How empowered are you by Christ? Hope is basically saying, “No matter what I'm facing, I see the light, and I'm going to walk toward it. The same light that is drawing me near exists inside me, and that is the light of hope that God places in each of us.”

Sometimes all we need is just a little word of encouragement for hope to start to become real, and it doesn't have to be huge. It doesn't have to be some loud production to say, “Oh, now I can be hopeful.” Sometimes when we're down on our luck or having a tough time, we need something to really prove it to us, and we don't see all the little reminders along the way of how blessed we really are. But those little reminders are there. If we can hang on quietly and trust in God, everything is going to be okay.

And the great thing about hope is that once one of us recognizes it, once one of us understands that hope is always present, then we can start to share it. Because when you're going through a tough time, when your community or family is struggling, it only takes one to bring the light. And if one can carry that flame with confidence, the whole group can walk in that confidence.

I want to invite you all to stand up, come near—close enough to connect. You may take a seat close by or return to your seats. You may wonder what was happening just then. Well, hope sometimes moves quietly. Hope comes in unexpectedly, and you're not even sure what's going on. But in that moment, you're holding light, and you have the opportunity to pass it on. There was no rush, no pressure, even amidst confusion.

We had no direction. We weren't sure what was going on. We looked at each other with a little humor—“Okay, how's this gonna go?”—but magically, when the light passed from one to the next, some held it high, some held it low, and hope continued to travel and grow. As the lantern went through all of your hands, it shone brighter and brighter. Hope multiplies when it is shared. Nobody stopped to ask, “Who am I passing it to?” Nobody held it back.

We just kept going. There was no right or wrong way. Even when I wondered, “Why'd you hand that to Bob instead of Alan?”—I didn’t have to worry. Hope made its way through. Even the person who showed up randomly received it. Hope comes near one another when we are open and allow it in.

Jesus entered Galilee quietly. It wasn’t a spectacle. There wasn’t noise. But like a lantern appearing unexpectedly in the night, His presence and voice spoke, “The kingdom is near.” It didn’t need a palace or a stadium with roaring applause. It came in a whisper: “The time has come.” That’s what Advent is about. God didn’t wait for perfect conditions to send His Son, and we shouldn’t wait for perfect timing to assure, comfort, love, or offer hope. Just like Josiah found the lantern and carried it, something new is happening here.

So, what can we do to remind others that the story is not over? The kingdom is near. Hope is near. Like Josiah, we can carry a little flame, and even a small light can show the next step. That’s why God’s people have always shared the light, sharing the good news, giving hope. You don’t need to be an evangelist; even a smile, a story, or a kind gesture can pass the flame along.

Something new is beginning here. I hope that this morning you all have received the gift of hope. I hope that you take that expression, that light, and pass it on to everyone you encounter this Advent season.

Please pray with me.

Our most gracious and loving God, we give you thanks for Your Word. We give You thanks for Your Son, Jesus, who walked among us to demonstrate the power of love, the power of kindness, the power of hope. God, as we know that we are Your living vessels of light and love, we will go forth from this place and continue to bring that hope into the world. And God, we thank You that even in the midst of darkness, even in the midst of confusion, You remain strong, You remain faithful, and You continue to remind us that we can find our hope in You, and we can be the hope that brings light to the world.

It’s in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.