And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness.
What a word of cosmic proportions! Cosmic in the sense that this breath from God forms the very cosmos itself; but cosmic, also, in the sense that it resounds above the universe, as it were, through matter to the heart of what truly matters. God says, “Let there be light,” and light appears. And when light appears, darkness flees in the opposite direction, clutching the canvas of existence with wiry fingers, but losing its grip. So Genesis 1:3 isn’t just a prelude of things to come; it's the whole story—the evangelion—the end of all things at the very beginning. Friend, listen, and you’ll hear God speaking right where you are, “Let there be light!” He shouts over your sin and shame, “Let there be light!” He whispers through your shadows of doubt, “Let there be light!” He calls to your wounded, faltering faith, “Let there be light!” He resounds through your depression.
It’s almost as if those four little words have been holding all things together all along—as if we’d still hear them pulsating through every facet of life if we just stopped to listen.