And the darkness overcame it not

Recently I was watching a performance of "Surely, he hath borne our griefs" (Isa 53) from Handel's Messiah, performed by King's College Chapel:

Everything about it was ideal: the setting, the message, the music, the performance.

A pocket of light in a world of darkness. If we resided in a world without darkness, there'd be no occasion to question God's existence or benevolence. If we resided in a world without light, there'd be no reason to believe in God's benevolence–although some transcendent being would still be necessary to account for many things.

But what about a world that alternates between light and darkness, in time and place? If light is the ultimate reality, we can explain the existence of moral darkness, but if darkness is the ultimate reality, how can we explain the existence of light? Shadow requires light. Light is not the absence of darkness. Rather, darkness is the absence of light. Light is primary while darkness is the side-effect of light's absence or occlusion.

Dropping the metaphor, moral evil presumes that something went wrong. Things ought to be better.

Christianity is threatened in England–by secular totalitarians in league with Muslim totalitarians. Threatened to be enveloped by darkness

But Christianity has always been threatened–both inside and outside the church. From within, by heresy, dead formalism, and moral corruption. From without by Islam, secularism, paganism, &c.

Yet within a dark world, stubborn pockets of unquenchable light remain. Pockets of light behind enemy lines. Despite ruthless, fanatical efforts to extinguish the light, it continues to reignite. It rekindles in the most unlikely places. And the surrounding darkness makes pockets of light stand out all the more. The persistence of light in a darkened world gives us reason to hope for the best.