Fluorescent Light at 3 a.m.
Updated: Sep 5
“And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed.”Mark 1:35
The light does not change. It is the same hard brightness at three in the morning as it is in the afternoon. There is a small hum from the ceiling. Day and night look almost the same.
In this light faces look more tired. There is no soft shadow. Colour fades. You see people as they are, without the kindness of ordinary daylight.
Many of us know this hour. A hospital corridor. A chair beside a bed. A staff room that never goes fully dark. You are awake because someone needs you, or because you cannot sleep, or because you are waiting for news.
Jesus knew the night. He got up while it was still dark to pray. On the night before he died, he asked his friends to stay awake with him. They could not. He stayed awake anyway. He understands people who are still up when the rest of the world has gone quiet.
You do not have to like this light. You do not have to call it beautiful. It is only doing one useful thing: it lets you see the person in front of you.
That is often all the night asks. Not a long speech. Not a perfect prayer. Just to stay there. To notice the face. To hold a hand. To wait with someone until morning.
The Church remembers nights like this. Before Christmas, in Advent, we watch for Christ in the dark. At Mass we remember the night he gave us the Eucharist. Eucharist means the gift of himself, which we receive in Holy Communion as bread. He gave that gift at night, when fear was close and the next day was still unknown.
So if you are awake under this light, you are not outside the life of God. Jesus does not wait to meet you only when the sun comes back. He is already with the people who keep watch at three in the morning.
It is enough that you can still see the person in front of you. He can see you too.