I grew up listening to old gospel standard hymns like “This Little Light of Mine (I’m Gonna Let It Shine).” I love those songs; they make me smile. And, even as a small child, they pushed me to learn what those lyrics meant.

I guess it’s why I love lighthouses. It’s my own mind’s eye version of being “the light of the world,” as Christ said in his Sermon on the Mount:

I think of the lighthouse, just hanging out and giving light. Shining in the darkness, as a beacon of help to those looking in their direction. Somewhere along the way, after my conversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I figured I’d try to be a lighthouse, of sorts.

Some days, the power plug gets pulled. Some days, it seems I need a new light bulb. But the concept of shining whatever light I have turns out to be one that, ultimately, helps me more than anyone. It’s brought me joy, a strengthened relationship with the Savior, new friends, and connections with people who have very shiny lighthouses in themselves!

It’s a simple, yet profound principle.  The words in Doctrine and Covenants 115:5 teach it this way:

These are profound words. Among the principles we’re each striving to better understand and live, this one is quite doable. There’s plenty of darkness in the world, along with plenty of grievances, petty issues, ugly conflicts, and heavy burdens. Most of us may not have the opportunity to be a standard for a nation. But we can do so for our home; for our school; our work; the gas station attendant; a stranger who looks in need of an uplift.

We can pick our venue for the day, so to speak, and remember some good advice that came from none other than Arlo Guthrie:  “You can't have a light without a dark to stick it in.”

Good words! Each one of us is equipped to shine in our own unique way, standing for truth and goodness wherever we find ourselves.  There are plenty of dark spots in which we can shine.

Saying something kind to a cashier? In an elevator? I love chatting in that confined space, with the goal of bringing at least one or two smiles.  People with perfectly good conversational skills seem to forget how talking works when those elevator doors close. So, my newer venture has been to start talking as soon as I step in. Some folks ignore me. But some smile and join in a quick but fun exchange.

It seems a silly little thing. But when all is said and done, isn’t it all the little things that really matter?

Most days, regardless of circumstance, we can be a lighthouse — and shine, even when we don’t feel so shiny.  I have a sneaking suspicion that the Savior smiles when we lighten the way for another person, and when we lighten up, ourselves. When that happens, we all benefit a great deal. That’s good! And goodness matters.