What a Children’s Picture Book Taught Me About Light and Darkness in John

I was reading to my kids the other night — one of those picture books where the illustrations do the heavy lifting. This one had a page where a child…

I was reading to my kids the other night — one of those picture books where the illustrations do the heavy lifting. This one had a page where a child was walking through a dark forest holding a single lantern. The darkness around the lantern was thick and detailed — you could see twisted branches, shadows, shapes that could be anything. But right around the lantern, everything was golden and clear.

My youngest pointed at the page and said, “The dark is bigger but the light is winning.”

I put the book down and thought about John 1:5 for the rest of the evening.

“The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

There’s something about that verse that hits differently when a five-year-old accidentally preaches it to you at bedtime.

John sets up this contrast in the very first chapter of his Gospel, and it runs through the entire book like a thread. Light and darkness aren’t just metaphors — they’re the operating categories for how John wants you to understand everything Jesus does. Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night. The Samaritan woman encounters Him at noon — broad daylight. People love darkness because it hides their deeds (John 3:19). Jesus calls Himself the Light of the World (John 8:12).

But here’s what my kid accidentally got right: the darkness is often bigger. Look around. Turn on the news. Sit in a hospital waiting room. Walk through your own anxious thoughts at 2 AM. The darkness is real, it’s detailed, and it’s everywhere.

And yet the light is winning.

That verb “shines” in John 1:5 is present tense — ongoing, continuous. It’s not “the light shone once.” It shines. Right now. Still. Even when the forest is thick and the branches are twisted and you can’t see more than a few feet ahead.

The darkness didn’t overcome it. Didn’t comprehend it. Didn’t extinguish it. Couldn’t. Can’t. Won’t.

Some nights that’s all the theology I need.

Something I’m curious about: When has the “darkness” felt biggest in your life — and what reminded you the light was still shining? I’d love to hear from you. Drop a comment or reply if you’re reading this in email.