When the Lights Go On Earlier
I noticed it the other night while driving. Back in the beginning of July, I could head out after dinner and keep the headlights off until after 8:00 PM. The sky would stretch wide and bright, holding onto its deep blues and golden edges as if it never wanted to let go. Now, I find myself reaching for the switch earlier. The light fades sooner, the horizon brushed with rose before slipping into gray. The days are shrinking, quietly and without fanfare, reminding me once again that the seasons are shifting.
At first, I felt a little sadness. Summer always seems too short, doesn’t it? Just when we’ve settled into barefoot evenings and the steady hum of cicadas in the trees, it begins to slip away. Yet as I drove with my headlights cutting through the dusk, I felt something else—something reassuring. The rhythm of the seasons was still unfolding exactly as it should. Nothing was out of place. The same God who paints the skies at sunset was still keeping time.
The book of Ecclesiastes says it so simply: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). The fading sky over my windshield became a reminder that life, too, moves through seasons. Some are filled with bright light, others quieter and muted. There are times when we walk in sunshine, and times when we travel by the narrow beams of our headlights, unsure of what’s ahead, but still moving forward.
Soon the trees will begin their slow transformation—maples turning red, oaks glowing amber, birches shimmering yellow. They won’t hold on forever. Instead, they will blaze with beauty for a time, then release, trusting the process God has written into creation. Even winter, which at first feels so bare, is never wasted. Beneath the surface, roots strengthen, seeds rest with promise, and the earth prepares for spring.
Jesus often pointed to these truths. He spoke of seeds falling into the earth and dying so that they might bear fruit. He spoke of vines being pruned so that they might flourish. His message was clear: change is not the end. It is the way God brings about something new.
So when I notice myself turning on the headlights a little earlier each night, I don’t see it only as the loss of summer’s light. I see it as an invitation to trust that God is present in every transition. He is faithful in the lengthening days and in the fading light. And just as surely as blossoms follow frost, His promises will rise in our lives again.
And yet, even as the days shorten and the nights grow cooler, summer isn’t finished with us. There is still warmth to soak in, still golden afternoons to savor. September often brings skies of the clearest blue, and October, my personal favorite, arrives dressed in copper, scarlet, and gold. So I’ll keep turning on my lights a little earlier, but I’ll also keep enjoying the sunshine while it lasts. Each day, whether bright or fading, is a gift from God.
UPDATE:
I’m very excited to let everyone know that the first edition of our new print (and digital) magazine will be released on time by September 15th. Always Toward the Light: A New Dawn is an inspirational, informative, and beautiful publication made possible by those of you who volunteered to contribute your art, photography, and writing! And it’s also a reflection of lots of prayers whispered quietly behind the scenes. I hope you will enjoy the first edition: “A New Dawn”, and look forward to others that follow quarterly throughout the year. I’ll be releasing information about the December edition soon, with an invitation for your participation. Stay tuned!
Look forward to sharing more with you soon!
Warm regards,
John Henry
