EDITORIAL

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IN the depths of the January midwinter, natural everyday light feels like a rare commodity.

The days are still short and the nights are long although, by the end of this month, getting a little shorter.

Light is fascinating: in science the speed of light is a measure of distance. It is both physical and metaphorical in everyday life, meaning it can be perceived easily in a physical sense and detected in a spiritual sense, but in the Christian faith, can also be interpreted as truth.

Light can offer a different perspective: something which looks dull and unappealing in dark or poor light can shine brightly when illuminated by light.

Light is a key part of the Christian journey. When the presence of God is felt, new light can be found in difficult discussions, decisions and debates, offering the gift of understanding, compromise and grace.

Age old passages of scripture can be reread and create lightbulb moments through fresh insights, understanding and teaching.

At the time of writing, we are in the grip of a gloriously sunny – but freezing – day.

The ground is hard and there is little warmth in the air, despite the sunshine.

Yet the light is sharp and clear, casting brightness on a wintry landscape of bare trees and vegetation and frosty pavements, bringing brightness to the grey days of winter.

Walk a few hundred metres from our home and you are greeted by the vision of the three crossings bridging the Forth between North and South Queensferry. Each was built in a different century and each is a marvel of manmade creation, admired and recordbreaking in its time. Having grown up in the immediate vicinity of the bridges (and being a regular traveller on them all) they hold a special fascination for me.

“When the presence of God is felt, new light can be found in diicult discussion, decisions and debates, ofering the gift of understanding, compromise and grace.”

On a day like today, the bridges are clearly defined, sharp and clear. Yet on damp days they can be grey and blurred.

On other days they can be shrouded in summer by the famous east coast haar and in winter by freezing fog, perhaps offering a metaphor for our faith lives, when, at difficult times, a way ahead can appear unclear or shrouded in mystery.

Yet with the gift of light, a clear way ahead can emerge – with light changing the picture and offering different perspectives and a new focus.

In this month of gloomy darkness in which we mark the arrival of a new year, let the words of the psalmist light our way to spring and the hope of Easter: ‘Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.’

Lynne McNeil Editor