There’s a saying that people who don’t come to church “never darken the doorway.” But if each of us is filled with the light of Christ, don’t we have that backwards? Shouldn't we be saying instead that each person who comes, brightens the doorway and brings light into the church?

I've long had the image of churches as being like old-fashioned inns. The night outside is dark, but the door of the inn is open, with light and warmth, the smell of good food, the sounds of song and laughter, spilling out into the darkness.

For some, this is their regular pub, home away from home, where they come time after time, night after night, for food, fellowship, warmth. Friendly arguments, dart-playing, fun. Gathering in celebration, and in times of fear and sadness. Travelers passing by are drawn in by the light and warmth, some taking a room at the inn for a night or two, others pausing only long enough to rest and recover before continuing on their way; still others finding it so welcoming that they settle down nearby. Still others never enter, but just seeing the light spilling out gives them hope for their own journeys’ end, and speeds their footsteps on their way.

In worship one morning, watching the light from the stained glass windows move across the room, I found myself wishing I’d brought my camera. Wanting to take pictures…just of the hands. Hand after hand being bathed in light, blessed by light, filled to overflowing with the light. Light spilling over those hands, light that they will take with them when they leave. Light that will spread from them to their friends and neighbors. Light overflowing, spilling over to fill the whole world.