The Lanterns on the Shore
Along a dark shoreline stood a row of old lanterns. They had once guided boats safely home, but over time, many had gone out. The nights felt longer now, and travelers were unsure where to land.
One evening, a new flame appeared at the far end of the shore. It didn’t flicker wildly or shout for attention. It simply shone—steady and warm.
The nearest lantern felt a quiet stirring inside. “I remember that light,” it thought. “I was made for this.”
One by one, lanterns began to glow again—not because they were forced, but because they chose to turn toward the flame. Some had to let go of old rust. Others had to trust that their small light mattered.
As the lanterns lit up, the shoreline changed. Boats slowed. People felt safer. The dark didn’t seem so heavy anymore.
The flame moved along the shore, inviting the lanterns to follow—not away from their purpose, but deeper into it. Some lanterns hesitated. They had been standing in the same place for years.
But a few leaned into the light and stepped forward.
Together, they traveled the shoreline, lighting paths, warming cold places, and helping lost travelers find their way. They discovered that shining wasn’t about standing still—it was about moving where the light led.
By morning, the shore was bright. The lanterns were tired, but joyful.
They hadn’t lost their place. They had found their calling.
And that is how saints begin too.
They turn toward the light of Jesus.
They leave what holds them back.
And they help God’s love shine in the world.
Inspired by Matthew 4:12-23.
