Opinions expressed in this piece are solely those of the author.

In Boston Harbor, a light still shines. Towering eighty-nine feet above the rocky coast, it is impervious to thunder’s roar, torrential rains, and the vagaries of storms that rail and rage. Day in, day out, it sends forth its golden beam to vessels passing by, pointing the weary sailors toward home…

The beautiful Boston Light was the first lighthouse built in Colonial America. It was erected in 1716 on Little Brewster Island. Sixty years later, in 1776, it was destroyed by the British. Then in 1783, it was rebuilt.

Throughout its storied history, it was maintained by a succession of seventy lighthouse keepers. In December 2023, it underwent an ownership transfer through the National Lighthouse Preservation Act of 2000, and its last human keeper was discharged. Thus, a special era ended.

For days, now, the image of a solitary lighthouse standing on a storm-lashed shore has been solidly in my mind, and it’s prompted some serious reflection. Am I a light, or am I an extinguisher of the light?

These are important questions, and they bear honest reflection. There are people—and you generally know them when you meet them—who exude light. Who emit radiance, warmth, kindness, and compassion. It makes you long to draw near.

In the midst of any personal storm, these human lighthouses show the way. From their vantage point, they can see what you cannot, and that loving light will keep you from crashing on the rocks. It is a mercy to be so guided and led, and it is a gift we should not refuse.

When a son was deep in the world of addiction, it was one of the most awful storms I’d ever weathered. For months and long years, my frail craft was tossed about on the tempest. Hope ebbed and flowed. I could not see dry land from where I was. During that time, it was the light from others nearby that kept me from drowning.

These wise, loving friends, they prayed. They shared their wisdom. They simply sat with me through the worst of it (which, alone, was a great and precious gift), and when it was over and my boat pulled into the shore, they rejoiced with me at the water’s edge.

It is a privilege to be a light bearer, to be the lighthouse on the shore that guides the travelers home. This means that we must actually have a light within. We must have it, and we must do our part to maintain it.

Before automation, when oil lamps were used and humans manned each station, there was much work for them to do. They maintained the structure, cleaning windows and lenses. They wound clocks. They replenished the fuel. They replaced bulbs, trimmed wicks, took weather readings, and maintained logbooks. Diligence was critical; human lives depended on it.

What was true of the lighthouses is true of us today. To be effective keepers of the light, we must maintain our own structures. This encompasses our physical bodies, our minds, our souls, and our hearts. If we tend well to our own selves, then we can better care for others. We are more effective.

We need to keep our windows clean. We need to check our lenses. Truth is the great corrector. Half truths and lies will cloud our vision, distorting our perceptions of reality. What we believe is so important. We must stay grounded on truth.

Just as the keepers of old wound the clocks, so we, too, must keep the hands of time firmly in mind. Knowing that our days are finite (they are numbered), we should live with intention. This is how we live in the light of eternity, and it’s how our lives bear fruit.

Regularly, we replenish our fuel, and we must make sure that it’s good. What are we taking in? To whom are we listening? Are we nourishing our souls with the good and the true? All of it makes a difference. All of it affects the “shine.”

We must keep our wicks trimmed. By looking well to the ways of our hearts, trimming back all that doesn’t serve us well, we can keep our lamps burning bright. It is light, always and ever, that pushes back the dark.

We are one of two things. Either we are keepers of the light, or we are extinguishers of it. If we go about in the world with a critical air and a dour attitude, vomiting our discontent on those around, then we are not bearing light. When we gossip and slander or lash out in anger, we are not helping; we are harming. As a former pastor once said, “You are carrying a gas can or a fire extinguisher. What are you pouring out on the hopes and dreams of those around you?”

To all of the light keepers. You’ve been placed precisely where you are for a reason. Do not envy the part of the shore that another lighthouse occupies. Wherever you are, shine there. You cannot be where I am, I cannot be where you are, but together we will push back the dark by shining the light where we are.

And the Light? He has a name.

You can hear James Golden, aka Bo Snerdley, and America’s smallest, most caffeinated mom on a radio station near you. Tune in on Saturday morning in the 9:30 hour. Bring your mug.