Let it

In a recent read through of the Bible, I scanned this verse, but then stopped. Re-read it. Sat with it.

“In the same way, let your light shine before people, so that they can see your good deeds and give honor to your Father in heaven” Matthew 6:16 NET

It’s not that we conjure up light. We don’t manufacture it on our own. It is within us as Christ followers—it’s the unique way the Holy Spirit shines through us with gifting and manner and how we love others. The light within us simply is.

And our job is to let that light shine. To permit it. To allow it. To embrace the way God has uniquely gifted us, without apology.

So why do we create so many hurdles to shining?

Why do we have so many rules in order to minister joyfully?

Why are only certain people given permission to share Jesus with others (in a public setting)?

The Body of Christ should consist of all of us. We are all equipped to shine into our own spheres of influence. We are all called to help others heal, grow, and thrive. There is no hierarchical structure in the kingdom of God. We are all members of the same body, all imbued with significance, all mandated to make disciples. We come to serve.

As a woman in the church, I’ve experienced so many obstacles to shining. I’ve learned how to pay my dues over and over again. I’ve apologized for my voice. I’ve shrunk myself to acceptable smallness. I’ve hidden. I sometimes even snuff out any light so that I don’t shine too much. Because sometimes I’m just too much.

And yet, when I taught a message overseas, I settled into the gifting God had given me. I watched as men and women nodded their heads, as I experienced looks of understanding, as listeners carried the look of a holy aha, as I unpacked the Scriptures with sheer joy. In the delivery, I smiled. Let out my breath. I was shining. Not for my glory, certainly, but for his, and for the sake of spilling out some light to others.

That’s when I heard the quiet, sweet voice of my savior. “Preach where you’re wanted.”

I don’t need to spend the rest of my life lurking.

I don’t have to retrofit myself into others’ narrowing expectations of what I can and can’t do.

Nor do I need to apologize for how God created me to communicate.

I don’t need to force open closed doors, trying to prove that I have a place at the ministry table.

I just need to shine, to share the message of Jesus when folks want to hear from me.

So when I’m invited, I go.

And if I sense my light is bothering others, I simply don’t go.

I want to let my light shine, allow it, permit it, for those whom God has prepared to hear.