I am in the process of reading Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and enjoying it as much as the musical. Within the dark and heavy world in which their lives coincide, the stories of each character dance around themes of grace and legalism. Creeping again and again into my mind is the thought of how immensely honest their stories really are. In fact, I suspect Victor Hugo's work is found gripping by so many because we readily find ourselves somewhere in it, or perhaps all through it. The darkness is overwhelming because it is all too close to home, maybe as close as our own hearts. The light is real, and it stings our eyes and seeps into our hearts.

 

In this dark and honest world, life is not fair, it is not easy and the stories don't always go where you want them to go. Yet, the words of Victor Hugo himself hold my attention even as particular scenes linger in my mind. "Will the future ever arrive?" he asks, "Should we continue to look upwards? Is the light we can see in the sky one of those which will presently be extinguished? The ideal is terrifying to behold, lost as it is in the depths, small, isolated, a pin-point, brilliant but threatened on all sides by the dark forces that surround it; nevertheless, no more in danger than a star in the jaws of the clouds." The lives of Jean Valjean, Javert, and Cosette, touch us with mercy, seemingly asking us to be aware of the brilliance of even the smallest of lights in the midst of devastating darkness.

 

It is said of Christ in the Gospel of John, "In him was life and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it" (1:4,5). Literally, John says that the light shines and the darkness did not "lay hold of it." Undoubtedly, as John penned the words that testified to the events which had unfolded before his eyes, his mind hastened back to the Cross, the darkness of that day—the unfairness, the ugliness, the confusion and regret of that overwhelming scene. And then he says boldly: even in the jaws of darkness on the Cross, the light of the world did not go out.

 

His illustration is weighted with the reality of the waves and particles of light. Darkness cannot overpower it. It cannot catch it. It cannot comprehend it. And so John begins his testimony: Darkness could not grasp the one who is the light and life of men. In Christ is the life that death cannot understand, the light that cannot be overcome. (See John 1.)

 

James Stewart, the great Scottish theologian, challenges our minds to ponder this. Jesus Christ is light incomprehensible by darkness. Writes Stewart, "The very triumphs of his foes He used for their defeat. He compelled their dark achievements to serve his ends, not theirs. They nailed him to the tree, not knowing that by that very act they were bringing the world to his feet. They gave him a cross, not guessing that He would make it a throne."

 

What God did on the Cross, the day the entire earth was covered in darkness and heavy with death, should cause us to wonder and believe. What God did with hardened hearts and unwilling lives should cause us to wonder at what He can do with the tiniest seed of faith. The light of Christ will not be overcome. He is alive, he is among us, and he is at work, even in the jaws of darkness.

When death is near, when life is unfair, and our hearts break within us, God is not any less on his throne. Where darkness seems to consume, where it serves to discourage, where it threatens hope and life, let us hold fast to the promise of God, and the certainty of light. For in Christ is life and that life is the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome it.