I was recently in Boston, and our meetings ended around 4 o’clock. I was excited because I thought I had a couple of hours to explore. But when I went outside, it was already dark. The sun was gone, and the city had settled into nighttime. I was genuinely disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I love Boston, but that day felt extra cold and gloomy.
In contrast, when we were in Hawaii, we saw some truly incredible things. On our very first day, the volcano erupted. It’s happened 38 times since last December. We were pretty sure the volcano wouldn’t erupt while we were in Hawaii. However, Shauna felt we should go on our first Saturday anyway.
Then, halfway through the drive, we heard that the volcano was erupting. It turned out to be the largest eruption so far.
Standing there, I remember thinking how easily we could have missed it. A different plan, a different day, a little less patience, and that moment would have passed us by. Instead, we were simply there when it happened. And it felt like a gift.
It was incredible. You heard it first, then felt it, and finally saw it, and once you did… WOW. If you’ve never seen an active volcano, it’s something you should experience at least once. I don’t really have words for it.
Watching a volcano feels like watching light with weight to it. We humans can build some amazing things, but standing there, none of that mattered. I was completely in awe. It was impossible to look away. It felt alive, powerful, and completely outside of my control.
I actually have a video if you want to see it!
Shauna suggested we come back later that night. And honestly, that made all the difference. As impressive as Kīlauea (Kee-lah-oo-EH-ah) was during the day, seeing it at night amplified everything. It was still erupting, and the reds, yellows, and oranges glowed against the deep black of the night. Fingers of lava snaked through the crater. It was unforgettable.
As we were driving home, I noticed the moon in the rearview mirror. It was this deep orange, so I had Shauna pull over. From where we stood, we could see the volcano reflecting off the ocean. At the same time, the moon also reflected off the water. It was one of those moments you don’t plan, but somehow you’re meant to notice.
Later that week, we went night snorkeling. If you’ve never done that, it really needs to be on your bucket list. Some pretty amazing things happened.
As we were cruising through the water, little sparks started glowing in the wake. Clark was the first to call it out, although Jayden would like full credit for seeing it first. I assumed it was just light reflecting off the water. However, we learned it was glowing plankton. It made the ocean sparkle like diamonds. We checked off a bucket list item for Edi that night. Once again, I found myself mesmerized. I watched the wake and every splash around the boat. I looked for those tiny glowing signs of life.
The manta rays were drawn in by the light. The guide swam down and positioned it just right, attracting the plankton and, before long, the manta rays followed. Watching it all come together was striking. The light didn’t chase anything. It simply was there. And life gathered around it. In the darkness of the ocean, that single light brought movement, beauty, and connection. Seeing those massive rays glide past just a few feet away was unforgettable. Even the sharks made an appearance. They moved quietly through the edges of the light. It was beautiful until I realized they were much more comfortable there than I was.
Just as impressive, out there in the middle of the ocean, was the night sky. When we looked up, there was no city glow and no distractions. Just darkness, filled with millions of points of light. The stars felt closer and brighter than I’d ever seen, stretching across the sky in every direction. It was one of those moments where you stop talking and stop moving. You simply take it in and feel amazed by how much light can exist in the middle of complete darkness.
Those experiences showed me that light can be dramatic and overwhelming. It can also be gentle and quiet. It has the power to change everything around it. It stood in sharp contrast to how I felt in Boston, stepping outside at four and finding the day was already gone. In one place, darkness seemed to limit what I could see and do. In the other, light expanded everything.
Do you know what the very first recorded act of the Creation was? not land, plants, or even life itself. It Was light. Before there was order, before there was form, and before there was beauty, God introduced light. That detail matters. It teaches us something about how the Father works.
Light is not an accessory or a finishing touch. It is foundational. In the Creation account, nothing else moves forward until light is present.
The Lord teaches this plainly in Doctrine and Covenants 93:36:
“The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.”
And Abinadi teaches in Mosiah 16 that Christ is “the light and the life of the world; a light that is endless, that can never be darkened.”
So when God says, “Let there be light,” He isn’t simply brightening a dark space. He is introducing truth, order, and divine presence into chaos. He is introducing Christ into the world. And that makes all things possible.
In Scandinavia, where winters are long and dark, people have learned the importance of light. There’s a cultural practice called hygge (pronounced “hoo-gah”or Hugh-gah). It describes a feeling of coziness, warmth, and contentment. Hygge isn’t about décor. It’s a mindset. It’s about creating a welcoming space and noticing simple moments with the people you love. Soft, warm light is often part of that, helping a place feel safe and calm. It’s been described as sitting inside while it’s snowing, wrapped in a blanket, with a warm light glowing nearby. Comfort. Peace. Belonging.
At Christmas, we practice something very similar. We light candles. We add Christmas lights to our homes and trees. All of it is meant to bring warmth, cheer, and light into darker days.
I served my mission in Pennsylvania, where there is a tradition of placing candles in the windows, especially around Christmas. Historically, those candles meant “welcome.” They meant someone was expected, someone was remembered, and the home was safe. I loved that image. We knew when we knocked on a door with a candle in the window, they would be kind and frequently welcome us in out of the cold.
As I was writing this, one question kept recurring in my mind. How do we add light to our lives? How do we enhance the lives of those around us?
I want to be clear about what this isn’t. Adding light doesn’t mean preaching constantly. It definitely doesn’t mean being perfect or turning every moment into a lesson.
What it does look like is something much simpler. It’s about noticing everyday situations and choosing to respond a little differently.
Even something as ordinary as traffic can become an opportunity to add light. I noticed this in Hawaii. The drivers there were so patient. When you turned on your signal, people would slow down and let you in. Everyone seemed content just going the speed limit.
Adding light can include looking out for others.
At school, it might mean noticing someone who sits alone. Offer them encouragement instead of criticism. Choose kindness, even when it would be easier to say nothing.
At work, it can look like being patient under pressure. It can mean giving credit instead of taking it. Also, it involves creating an environment where people feel respected and valued, even when deadlines are tight.
In our neighborhoods, adding light might be as simple as learning names. You can check in on someone who’s struggling. Be the neighbor who makes others feel safe and welcome.
Adding light at church means pausing to have that conversation. Simply saying hi in the hall, and add your thoughts during a lesson.
We should move beyond saying, “Let me know what I can do to help.” Instead, look for ways to act. It can be checking in without being prompted, offering something specific, or quietly stepping in where help is needed. Choosing to act, rather than waiting to be asked, adds light in ways that feel sincere and meaningful.
Other examples could include making an extra loaf of bread for someone. It could also be a surprise meal or a simple smile.
In Doctrine and Covenants 50, the Lord taught Joseph Smith:
“That which is of God is light;”
Light grows as we choose it and share it. It doesn’t overwhelm or force itself into a moment. It grows quietly as we continue in God. Just like the volcano in Hawaii, light changes the feeling of a moment. It fills the space.
We can invite others into our lives to feel His warmth and peace. When we place spiritual light in our windows, in our homes, and in our daily actions, we’re quietly saying to Him and to others, “You’re welcome here.”
And we do that through the small, simple choices that we make. When we do that our homes, workplaces, and communities feel warmer and more welcoming.
From the very beginning, light has been God’s answer to darkness. From creation of the world, to the Savior’s birth and ministry, to our daily efforts to follow Him, his light has always come first.
My invitation today is to make a habit of adding His light to the ordinary moments of our lives.
I testify that Jesus Christ is the Light of the World. I have felt His light bring peace and direction into my own life. As I try to follow Him, I know he makes all the difference!
Living the Good News 