“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
I stumbled upon this verse earlier this year and instantly fell in love with one specific phrase in it. I love words. I always have. But there’s always a few words that I love more than others. Stars. Light. Hope. Love. Somehow the greatest feelings are unexplainably wrapped up and conveyed in the simplest of words.
And while I’ve heard people talk about a “light momentary affliction,” I was instantly captivated by the phrase “weight of glory.” It’s a melodic paradox. The heavy connotation of weight balanced by the lightness of glory. It’s a beautiful word isn’t it? And another one of my favorites.
But for such a light word, why is glory heavy? Why does it carry such weight?
Have you ever gone outside and looked at the stars? Like really looked. Stood out there for several minutes waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and looked up at the expanse of the sky and realized just how vast the universe is. There are billions of stars out there pulsing in the darkness, shining on our world full of more than seven billion people. The same stars singing over you have seen thousands of years of history, empires rise and fall, comforted lonely travelers, and led people through the darkness to freedom. Still they sing on.
“No: Space was the wrong name. Older thinkers had been wiser when they named it simply the heavens.”
~ C.S. Lewis
It’s enough to make anyone feel small and insignificant. If you’re just a small string of notes in the symphony of the universe, then is life meaningless?
Of course not. Because I don’t just look at the stars and realize how small I am compared to the world.
I look at the stars and realize how absolutely beautiful they are. I look at the stars and notice the intricacies in the delicate dance between our world and the heavens. I look at the stars and feel a thrill of hope, excitement, and adventure. Because if the same God who lovingly created all of this magnificent universe with such care loves me like He says He does, then nothing in life is meaningless.
“When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him?”
Psalms 8:3-4
Every little thing, no matter how infinitely small, has significance. There is always room for hope because love is always nestled in a manger and shining from an empty tomb. Even in the darkest season and darkest night, love is there burning, beckoning us out of the shadows into the warmth of its glowing embrace.
Thou hast light in dark, and shutst in little room, Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.
John Donne’s “Annunciation”
The immensity and power of the God and Creator of the universe placed in a manger in the little city of Bethlehem. The weight of glory embodied in the tiny frame of a baby. It’s simultaneously too much for us to bear and unbearably light. God willingly gives us all of Himself, the full weight of His love and presence, in the lightest, simplest, most miraculous way possible — a newborn life.
“‘Yes,’ said the Lord Digory, ‘Its inside is bigger than its outside.’
‘Yes,’ said Queen Lucy. ‘In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.’” ~ C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle
And we have never been the same. How could we be? We’re no longer hopeless, despairing, wandering in never ending darkness searching for meaning. We were given a baby and a savior. A miracle and new life. Eternal hope. Endless light. And the infinite weight of glory bearing down on us and lifting us up.
The Weight of Glory:
Darkness.
Despair.
Silence.
Hopelessness crushing in around me,
Stealing my breath
As I search the starless sky in vain.
How can this be good?
How can love allow so much pain?
How can the brokenness shattered around me be good?
How can I trust a god
Who sacrifices the One He loves most?
Yet, how can I not?
How can I not trust the One
Who willingly gave everything
For the scattered shards of myself?
How can I not love the One
Who took my greatest pain out of love?
How can I not worship the One
Who calls me Beloved?
For a moment,
Darkness descends.
For a moment,
Hopelessness overwhelms.
For a moment,
The silence is deafening.
But just for a moment.
Even here in the darkness,
A beam of light penetrates the darkness,
Diving into the depths
And chasing away the shadows.
Even here in the crushing despair,
Hope pulses,
Beckoning me towards the promise of morning,
Redemption, and new life.
Even here in the silence,
The air thrums with the faint notes of love,
Swelling into a song of life —
An anthem of victory.
I want to bottle this moment up.
Capture this feeling.
Save it for the nights full of doubt.
Despite my doubts,
My endless searching —
Love pursues,
Filling my sky with stars
And leaving me breathless,
Light with the weight of glory.
As light prevails,
Hope endures,
And the song goes on.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
John 1:5
