The Light of the World

Living Out of a Real Identity in Jesus

"You are the light of the world." These words of Jesus in Matthew 5:14 often give me pause. It's much easier to say that Jesus is the light of the world. But what does it mean for Him to say that we are the light?

I often feel like a little candle with a tiny, flickering flame obscured by the wax that has melted around it. We try so hard to prop up an image for the world to see. We hide our true selves, with all the struggles and imperfections, behind a veneer of having it all together.

It's as if we put a nice-looking box over that flickering candle. The box has a picture of a much nicer, more impressive candle on it. And we hope people will focus on that image and not notice how weak the actual light is.

I experienced this when I was giving a sermon. I had this great illustration planned. I was going to use a real candle and a box to show how we can hide our true light under a false identity. My plan was to have the candle light the box and burn it up, showing what it means to let our false identities be destroyed. But as I was preaching, I realized that the candle wasn’t going to light the box. I started to feel anxious, wondering if the illustration was going to work at all.

But instead of acknowledging this to the congregation, I just kept going, trying to ignore the problem. I found myself forming my words carefully, trying to gloss over the fact that my big illustration wasn't going as planned. In that moment, I felt disconnected from God and from the very message I was preaching. I was living out of a false self, trying to project an image of having it all together, even as my illustration was quite literally falling apart.

It was a humbling moment, but also an enlightening one. Because isn't that so often what we do in life? We cling to these false identities, these boxes we've constructed, even when they're not working. Even when they're actually hindering the light of Jesus from shining through us.

We fill these boxes with all sorts of labels and identities. I'm a Christian. I'm a Mennonite. I'm a Troyer. I'm a pastor, a husband, a father. We can make a long list of the things that we think define us and form our identity. And we prefer to make sure people see that carefully curated identity, because frankly, it looks better than the fragile, wavering flame underneath.

But here's the problem: if I'm only showing you this box, and hiding what's really inside, I'm lonely. I'm not letting you into my heart. It feels too fragile, too vulnerable.

The Danger of False Identity

But there's an even deeper problem with living out of that "box" - that false, manufactured identity. If you put a box over a flame, it can make the flame go out. It lacks oxygen. It can't breathe. And when we live out of self-protection and self-promotion, rooted in identities that are not anchored in Jesus, we have little of real substance to share with people about how Jesus has changed our lives.

Think about it. If "being saved" essentially means that I grew up in the right family, had the right upbringing, followed the right rules, and now I'm pretty good at keeping up appearances - well, that's not very good news for the person who had a rough upbringing, who has struggled and failed. In the end, all I have to offer is an invitation to join my little tribe, to paint their box to look like mine. Republican or Democrat? From this town or that? Insert your career, your accomplishments. We use these things to define us.

We buy into the lies of self-promotion and self-protection. We think that if we can just construct the right image, control the narrative about ourselves, we'll be safe. We'll be accepted. But it's a façade. It's a box hiding a flickering flame.

And it can get far more serious than just denominational differences or political affiliations. We can hide attitudes of prejudice, superiority, and judgmentalism in there, behind a veneer of religiosity. But as the apostle Paul warned the Corinthian church, any work not built on the foundation of Jesus will ultimately be burned away (1 Cor. 3:10-15). An identity, even a "Christian" one, not anchored in Jesus, is a castle built on sand.

The True Light

Because here's the liberating truth: our identity, if we are in Jesus, is not rooted in anything we are or do. It is rooted in what He has done. "In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind" (John 1:4). When we are united with Jesus, He lights a flame in us. And that light is what transforms us and, through us, the world around us. This is not a light we can manufacture or maintain on our own. It is a gift from God. Not so that we can boast, but so that we can pass it on.

Think about a little candle. The flame is what matters, not the candle itself. Even if the candle isn't much to look at, if the flame is bright, it serves its purpose. A plain, unimpressive candle, but when the flame is lit, it can burn just as brightly as any other.

And the amazing thing is, this light can spread. As we live out of our genuine identity in Jesus, not hiding His light under the bushel of false pretense, we can light the candles of others. They too can experience the joy and freedom of a life united with Jesus.

But if that light is hidden under a bushel, under a carefully curated image, it won't illuminate anything. If my light is under a box, I can't light anyone else's candle. My man-made identity might impress some people, but it won't bring the life-giving good news of the Gospel to anyone.

Looking to Our Own Efforts

Part of our struggle is that we are so used to the idea that we are the masters of our own universe. We think we can create what we need to create to get the outcomes we want. We believe that if we just build the right image, project the right identity, we'll be safe. We'll be okay.

We see this mindset even creeping into modern technology. There's talk of AI that can create an online avatar of you, that can interact with people exactly as you would. The idea is that your avatar could go on virtual dates with someone else's avatar, to see if you're compatible before you ever meet in person.

But think about the mindset behind that. It's the idea that if I can just set things up perfectly, if I can project the right image and match it with someone else's carefully curated image, then I'll find happiness. Then my life will be okay.

But that's not what Jesus taught. He said that it's what we bring as we are united with God, as we take His light and life out into the world and share it with others - that's what can transform lives. It equips us to face any situation, knowing that God is big enough for any situation. That's what brings true joy and purpose.

Letting the Light Shine

So what do we do? How do we live as light in the world, in the midst of all our very real stumbles and struggles?

It starts with being honest before God. Like the tax collector in Jesus' parable, not even able to lift his eyes to heaven, simply beating his breast and pleading, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner" (Luke 18:13). It is in acknowledging our need, our utter inability to save ourselves or prop up a righteousness of our own, that we open ourselves to the grace of God.

And that's the beauty. When we come to the end of ourselves, we find that God is there waiting, not to condemn us, but to cleanse us, to heal us, to give us a new identity rooted and established in Jesus. Then, as we live out of that reality, the light of Jesus shines through us, even through our cracks and imperfections.

It's not about us managing our sin better or trying to impress people with how spiritual we are. It's about letting the love of Jesus so fully transform us that His light can't help but shine through. As Paul put it, "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6).

Consider some of the people Jesus interacted with. The rich young ruler, who had checked all the religious boxes, couldn't let go of his real idol - his wealth (Matt. 19:16-22). Jesus told him to sell all he had and give to the poor, to let go of the identity he had built for himself and find his true worth in following Jesus.

Paul himself, before his conversion, had a sterling religious pedigree. He was a Pharisee of Pharisees, zealous for the law (Phil. 3:4-6). But in that zeal, he was persecuting the very light of the world. It took a direct encounter with the risen Jesus, a light from heaven that literally blinded him, to shatter his false identity and establish him as a new creation (Acts 9:1-19).

Or consider the Samaritan woman at the well. She had run through many broken relationships and was living in shame, coming to draw water in the heat of the day to avoid the judgmental stares of her community. But Jesus saw straight to her heart. He knew all she had done, yet He offered her living water, a spring welling up to eternal life (John 4:1-26). In the light of His love, her shame melted away. Her deepest thirst was satisfied.

The Samaritan woman's story is particularly instructive. After her encounter with Jesus, she left her water jar - symbolically leaving behind her old life, her old coping mechanisms - and ran to tell her whole town about the Messiah (John 4:28-30). She didn't wait until she had her life all figured out and perfectly presentable. She immediately let her little light shine, and many came to believe because of her testimony.

That's what it looks like to live as light in the world. Not hiding our struggles and failings, but being honest about them, and at the same time pointing to the One who has redeemed us and given us a new identity. The One who said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12).

Praying for the Flame

So how do we cultivate this flame, this light of Jesus within us? It's not about trying harder, mustering up more willpower. It's about abiding in Him. It's about spending time in His presence, letting His Word and His Spirit shape us.

I was struck by a statistic I heard about the leaders of great movements of faith, movements that saw thousands upon thousands come to Jesus. The one common factor among these leaders was that they spent at least three hours a day in prayer.

At first, I pictured this as just intercession, pleading with God for things to happen. But I don't think that's what it was. I think it was time spent abiding in Jesus, letting go of false identities, confessing sin, receiving grace. It was time spent in the light, letting that light penetrate every dark corner of their hearts.

It's the kind of prayer Jesus models for us in the Lord's Prayer. We begin by acknowledging God as our Father, the one who gives us our true identity as His beloved children. We pray for His kingdom to come, His will to be done, aligning our lives with His purposes.

We ask for daily bread, recognizing that everything we need comes from His hand. We ask for forgiveness, and we extend that same forgiveness to others - because we know how desperately we need His grace, we can extend it freely to others.

And we ask for His protection and deliverance from evil, knowing that in our own strength, we would surely stumble. But in Him, we are more than conquerors (Rom. 8:37).

This is what it means to tend the flame, to live out of our true identity in Jesus. It's a daily surrender, a continual abiding.

Nothing to Lose

And as we do this, as we let go of our false selves and live out of our true identity in Jesus, we find a remarkable freedom. We realize we have nothing to lose. No image to protect, no façade to maintain.

Remember the story of Peter walking on the water? (Matt. 14:22-33). He was doing fine as long as his eyes were fixed on Jesus. But the moment he looked down at the waves, the moment he took his gaze off Jesus, he began to sink.

That's what the enemy wants. He wants us to look at the waves, to focus on the lies that we are what we do, that our worth is based on our performance. But when we keep our eyes on Jesus, when we abide in Him and live out of our true identity, we can walk on water. We can walk in the impossible.

This was the secret of the early church and of every great move of God in history. The leaders of these movements, the people God used to bring thousands into His light, were not impressive or self-important people. They were broken, humble, contrite - but absolutely convinced of the power of Jesus’ presence. United with Jesus, they lived with an intensity and urgency, unconcerned with personal comfort or reputation. Unconcerned, even, with self-preservation - because their lives were hidden with Jesus, and His life was their light.

We see this in the Book of Revelation. For many in the Western church, Revelation is a scary book, full of confusing symbolism and frightening imagery. We approach it with our man-made identities, our carefully constructed lives, and we worry about how all these apocalyptic events might disrupt our comfort.

But for the persecuted church, for believers who have had to let go of any false security, Revelation is a book of immense hope. They have already faced tribulation. They know what it is to have their self-constructed identities stripped away. And in that place, they have found an unshakeable hope, a light that no darkness can overcome.

Because here's the glorious truth: the light of Jesus within us cannot be extinguished. As Jesus assures us, "Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12). No circumstance, no opposition, no momentary failure on our part, can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Jesus our Lord (Rom. 8:38-39). The light may flicker, but it will never go out, because it is sustained not by our feeble efforts, but by the very life of Jesus Himself.

More than Conquerors

So while this is simple, it’s not always easy. Live as children of light (Eph. 5:8). Let us daily crucify any false identities, any self-promoting or self-protecting ways. Let us abide in Jesus and let His light shine through us.

This world is full of darkness. Full of pain, injustice, loneliness, despair. But the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5). As we live out of our true identity in Jesus, as we let His love and grace flow through us unhindered, that light will pierce the darkness. It will bring hope to the hopeless, liberty to the captives, beauty for ashes.

This is the great and glorious privilege of the Christian life. Not a burdensome duty to perform, but a wondrous reality to live out. Christ in us, the hope of glory (Col. 1:27). His life, His light, shining through ordinary, broken vessels like you and me. Transforming us, and through us, the watching world.

So let your light shine. Not so that others may be impressed with you, but so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven (Matt. 5:16). Let them see, not a carefully polished façade, but a genuine, broken, redeemed life that points to the light of the world.

For when we live out of our true identity, when we abide in the light as He is in the light, there is no limit to what God can do through us. No darkness too deep, no brokenness beyond mending, no soul beyond reach.

You are the light of the world. Believe it. Live it. Let it shine.

It starts with letting go of the boxes, the false identities we cling to. It starts with being honest about our brokenness and need. It starts with daily abiding in Jesus, spending time in His presence, letting His light shape us.

Take some time right now to reflect. What are the boxes you've been hiding behind? What are the false identities you've been clinging to? What are the dark corners of your heart that need the light of Jesus?

Bring these things to Him. Confess them. Receive His grace. And then ask Him to fan into flame the light He has placed within you. Ask Him to show you how to live out of your true identity in Him.

It's a journey, a daily choice. But it's a journey we don't walk alone. We walk it with Jesus, and we walk it together, as children of the light.

Here is a prayer that may be helpful:

Father, we confess that we have so often hidden behind false identities, behind boxes of our own making. We have sought to promote ourselves, to protect ourselves, rather than abiding in You. Forgive us.

Thank You that in Jesus, we have a new identity. We are Your beloved children, called out of darkness and into Your marvelous light. Help us to live out of that truth. Help us to daily die to self and abide in You.

Fan into flame the light You've placed within us. May it shine. Amen.