08/27/2026
My sophomore year of college, at our annual winter choral concert Christmas on the Hilltop, we sang a beautiful choral arrangement of Dolly Parton’s "Light of a Clear Blue Morning."
We stood in the darkened Rammelkamp Chapel, singers filling the aisles and holding battery-powered pillar candles. As we sang, the chapel slowly became illuminated by the glow of LED lights, transforming our regular chapel concert into a mid-winter extravaganza.
That song, and the power of that moment, has stuck with me ever since.
My favorite part was the bridge, where we sang this round that built from the ground up. The basses began gently singing, “Clear Blue Morning.” Then the altos and sopranos layered their voices on top. As each layer became more pronounced, the lights grew with intensity, evolving into this beautiful indoor sunrise amidst the twinkle of Christmas trees and the candles in our hands.
It was a moment that had us teary-eyed and awed with choral wonder. We literally went from dark to light, from uncertainty to joy and celebration.
The concert had begun with the second movement of John Rutter’s Requiem “Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord,” based on Psalm 130. The entire concert became a movement from the darkness of lament and despair to the joy and hopefulness of this Dolly Parton masterpiece.
This week, as I’ve been reflecting on the impact and reach of Dolly Parton, a person who truly let the love and light of God shine through her, I can’t help but go back to this moment.
Because I can’t forget the final group added to the round: the tenors. As the voices and harmonies built around us, they entered singing “See the light.”
It was this vocal proclamation to see the light growing and glowing around us. And that was prophetic.
Oftentimes, it is so easy to focus on the hopelessness and despair around us—and the very real realities of fear and anxiety—that we miss the ways light is bursting forth around us, within us, and through us.
Paul writes to the church in Corinth, “For it is the God who said, ‘Light will shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:6 NRSVUE). And Jesus tells us: “You are the light of the world.” (Matthew 5:14a NRSVUE)
In a culture that thrives on the despair of others and the hopelessness of the oppressed, we are called to let that internal fire of the Holy Spirit within us be a light for those around us. We are called to be lightbearers and illuminate the spaces we take up.
The lights that illuminated Rammelkamp Chapel were LEDs, but the light that will illuminate our communities is the light of God already at work within each of us, and in our collective, collaborative, community building.
It is the Spirit of Love and Justice that rises from within when we feel inspired, encouraged, and even angered by the ways our communities are moving. It is the light that refuses to allow despair to have the final word.
So let your light shine. But know this: we are called not only to shine light, but sometimes simply to point toward the light already breaking through and say, “See the light.”
Maybe that is part of our prophetic work to refuse to let darkness convince us that darkness is all there is. Be like those tenors. See the light.
And then help somebody else see it, too.
Check out Pastor Squire’s college choir’s performance of “Light of a Clear Blue Morning” here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yqLznSnO9A
