The Night Is Not Empty: A Lightning Bug Theology

Finding Wonder and God’s Presence in Holy Darkness

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” — John 1:5 NRSVUE

On summer nights, one of my favorite things happens as dusk falls and the night sounds begin: the lightning bugs come out. No matter how many times I see them, their flickering light in the shadows still makes me pause and smile. I remember many summer evenings, laughing and running around, trying to catch one of these glowing wonders. Even now, whether I’m out walking or just taking out the trash, their tiny pulses of light spark something deep within me…bringing me into the present and filling me with wonder. They remind me that God is present, and yet…I only see their shine because it’s dark.

There’s something holy in that.

It brings to mind the Gospel of John, where it opens with this promise: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” You see, we often hear this as a triumphant declaration — light versus darkness, good over evil. But … what if the point isn’t that the darkness was bad, but that it was real—and that the light was real too? 

What if the wonder lies in their relationship and what is revealed?

You see, in our churches, our music, and even our children’s stories, we’ve inherited a long tradition of pairing light with goodness, clarity, and God—and darkness with danger, ignorance, or evil. These metaphors weren’t always written with harmful intent, but they’ve lived alongside deeply harmful systems—especially racism. Over time, unfortunately, this binary has shaped more than just metaphor and poetry. It has shaped people’s sense of self, worth, and belonging.

But scripture is more complicated—and more beautiful—than a simple binary.

Yes, Jesus is the light of the world. And God also met Moses in thick darkness on Mt. Sinai. God moved over the deep and the dark before speaking light into being. Seeds grow in the hidden dark. The womb is dark yet carries life. So does the tomb. There’s this children’s book, God’s Holy Darkness, which does a wonderful job reminding us that, “Creation began in holy darkness, and our new lives as free people in Christ began in the darkness of the sky that day.”

All of this from little ol’ lighting bugs reminding me, with gentle pulses of light, of God’s presence, made visible because of holy darkness illuminating the beauty of the Light. 

Lightning bugs shine because it’s dark. Their glow doesn’t erase the night, it flickers within it, dancing quietly, unexpectedly. That’s what makes their light so beautiful: not its power, but its presence. It invites awe. And maybe that’s what John 1:5 offers us…not a reason to fear the dark, but a promise that, visible or not, the light still pulses there. That God is not absent in the night, but near.

Maybe faith means learning to trust that God’s presence is just as real in mystery as in clarity, just as near in grief as in joy. Maybe it means becoming “lightning bug people” who glow gently, who surprise the world with pulses of kindness, flickers of beauty, flashes of hope.

Because lightning bugs remind me: flickering is still faithful. Wonder doesn’t require being the brightest light in the sky. And light, pulsing in the dark, invites. It says, “Look! Do you see? You are not alone.” Darkness holds a beauty all its own. 

So, this week, whether you’re out for a walk or sitting on the patio enjoying the evening breeze, watch for the flickers and enjoy the night. Be reminded that the dark is not something to fear, it holds beauty, holiness, and presence. And be a lightning bug person…because you were created to shine…not to erase the darkness, but to reveal God’s presence within it.

A Prayer for the Week

God of Light and Holy Darkness,
Thank you for lightning bugs and summer nights, for the quiet beauty that surrounds us when we take time to notice. Thank you for the ways you show up—not just in sunshine and clarity, but in shadows and mystery too. Help us reflect your love with gentleness and joy.
When the world feels heavy, remind us that the night is not empty, and let our love glow, drawing others toward your warmth and wonder...both in the beauty of darkness and the wonder of gentle pulses of light. Amen.