Faith | This season may seem dark, but the Light illuminates our way

With barely a second thought, we jogged straight into the west end of the Snoqualmie Tunnel on the John Wayne Pioneer Trail.

In the blink of an eye the four of us — Jacob, Gareth, Ben, and me — crossed from the full daylight into an instant midnight. The 2.25-mile mountain beast swallowed us whole, wrapping us in a wet, dense darkness that felt ripped from some other world.

Flicking on our headlamps, we pressed into the shadow. But the shadow pressed back, unyielding.

Deeper in, I said, “Let’s test it.”

We tested it, killing our lights one by one.

Instant blindness! An absolute, disorienting black. Even though I knew my companions were there, the darkness made me feel alone.

At one point, I wondered to myself, “Does this tunnel ever end?”

It was somewhere past the halfway mark when the pinprick appeared — a tiny, obscure star winking in the tunnel’s night.

Jacob’s voice broke through the gloom, “There it is!” he yelled, it came out as a half-laugh, half-prayer.

Energized, we laughed too, lungs heaving, legs pumping in rhythm as that pinpoint swelled with every stride. It grew, step by step, from a tease to a promise, until — in a rush of wind and wonder — we erupted from the eastern mouth, bathed in God’s wild gift to the world: light.

We had a long trail before us and miles to go, but, in that moment, joy prevailed.

In another place and time, an old man named Simeon shuffled along a tunnel of his own. It wasn’t a gravel path beneath his sandals, but the worn stones of the Jerusalem temple, heavy with incense and the weight of years. He had known decades of waiting, holding to promises whispered by the Holy Spirit like a distant echo in the night.

Simeon’s eyes, dimmed by age, scanned the crowds for something more: a light he’d been told to expect. A salvation prepared in the sight of all peoples.

And then, it came. He came.

Did Simeon’s arms tremble as he lifted the baby from Mary’s arms that day? Did his voice shake as he raised his old eyes toward heaven and whispered the Spirit-breathed promises?

“Sovereign Lord, now let your servant die in peace, as you have promised. I have seen your salvation, which you have prepared for all people. He is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel!” (Luke 2:29-32 NLT)

And now … Simeon cradled God in his arms. He whispered over the infant face of his Creator. This, at last, was Immanuel. God with us.

Maybe you have known some dark tunnels in recent days.

In spite of the sparkle of neighborhood lights, this season feels like a dark tunnel to so many souls. The shadows deepen in small, remembered pains … the barista misspelling your name again, her own eyes hollow from pulling double shifts to make ends meet … the neighborhood kid — no dad in sight — kicking gravel alone, aching for one safe voice to whisper, “I see you” … the recent widow staring at an empty chair … the young adult home from college for the first time post-divorce.

In these moments, another “Be a Light” sermon or a cheery Santa song falls flat, unable to pierce the mantle of darkness.

For Simeon — and for us — it’s Jesus who blazes in, not to shame, but to save and heal. His light doesn’t just chase shadows from our soul’s tunnel; it reveals ultimate truth.

When the four of us barreled out of that tunnel into the light, everything changed!

Yes, the dark had tested us — but the light? It unveiled the way forward, showed we weren’t alone, and ignited a fresh fire to keep running.

Christmas whispers the same: every dark tunnel ends in Jesus — a revelation for the world and glory for his people. Keep moving forward. You are seen. You are not alone.

The Light is for you.

Rev. Micah Smith is president and founder of Global Gateway Network (globalgatewaynetwork.org). Questions and comments should be directed to editor Lucy Luginbill in care of the Tri-City Herald newsroom. Email lluginbill@tricityherald.com.