Luke 8:16 A Lamp on a Stand

No one lights a lamp and hides it in a jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, he puts it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light. For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open.

I run, I hide. The men behind me are chasing me. Their faces are dark, like the night. I wake up, shaking. It is just a dream.
How often do I dream this same dream, and why does it haunt me? My wife is still asleep. I reach for the bedside lamp. It is out of oil. I stumble to the door of my room, and open it. A little starlight trickles in. Not much, but at least I can see where I am.
Since hearing that man's teaching I have been haunted by the night. I never used to mind it, but now the thought of darkness fills me with fear. A jar, a bed, who would put a lamp there? But they took him and killed him, the men of darkness in my dream, and although I have heard wild rumours since of a mistake - many claim to have seen him since his death. Some say he was never crucified at all, others talk of a resurrection. But I don't believe that twaddle. So I am left with the nightmares, the thought of a lamp snuffed out in the darkness, hidden under my bed. I dream that the men will come for me, that they have already come and that I am dead, buried in a tomb in the ground. Some nights, my wife tells me, I scream in my sleep. Other times I wake up in tears.
It never used to bother me before, this darkness. The place where everything hides that does not wish to be found, wish to be seen. I look at the lamp on my stand, but without oil and flame it is nothing, puny and small. The shadows crowd around. I wish I'd never heard of this man, this preacher who came promising that there would be light.