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A House Full of Light is a fairy tale about truth, the God we seek, and the quiet courage it takes to stand by what we believe, even when the world around us thinks differently.

In a world where everyone seems to have their own idea of what is good and true, how do we discover who God really is? And what happens when the truth we find is very different from what people want to hear?

May this story encourage you to keep seeking the light where it can truly be found, and remind you that even a small light can shine brightly in a world that has grown dark.

A House Full of Light

A Fairy Tale About Truth and the God We Seek

Mayor had come unexpectedly.

He suddenly stood before Woodcarver in his shop as Woodcarver was finishing a set of table legs for old Widow Grimsby.

“G-good day, Mayor,” Woodcarver said. He put his chisel down on the workbench and wiped the sweat off his brow. 

This was embarrassing. His workshop was a mess, with wood curls and shavings scattered all over the floor.

“To what do I owe the honor?”

Mayor smiled. “A job, good man. I have a job for you that will make you rich.”

“Me, rich?” Woodcarver raised his brows. He could sure use the money, but he didn’t really care for riches. He was happy just carving spoons, wooden dolls for little girls, kitchen bowls and the occasional hobby horse. Wiping his hands on his apron he asked, “What is it you want me to carve, Mayor?”

Mayor smiled. “A statue. An image, if you’d like. An image of god.”

“Of God?”

“You heard me, man. Of all the woodcarvers in the land, you seem to be one of the finest.”

Warm feelings rose. Something tugged at Woodcarver’s heart. Finally, his talents were fully recognized. Maybe he could do even more for the community than just creating ordinary supplies. But an image of God? He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of it.

“Yes,” Mayor confirmed. “I want a statue of god that will inspire all our people and encourage them to live together in unity and peace.” Mayor sneezed as some of the wood dust entered his nostrils. “Can we go to your living room and discuss it? I need to get out of here.” He gestured impatiently to the door. “Perhaps a cup of tea? That would be lovely.”

“Of course, Mayor.”

Minutes later, they were seated in Woodcarver’s modest living room and Woodcarver carefully poured the hot tea into Mayor’s cup. He mustn’t spill a drop, but that wasn’t easy. His hand trembled. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this visit.

As Mayor sipped his raspberry tea, he explained that the statue was to be erected in the market square so everyone could see it and understand at a glance what god wanted from mankind.

“We must honor god as is fitting,” Mayor said. “You have the talent, and I have the idea. Now all we have to do is decide together what the statue should look like.” 

Woodcarver offered Mayor a biscuit and sat down beside him. The enormous block of wood Mayor had already delivered, loomed in his back garden. He had never made a statue that large before.

“And… um… do you have any idea what I am to make?” Woodcarver asked.

Mayor stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It must be a magnificent statue, with a very special presence. Warm… kind…all-inclusive. Any suggestions?”

Woodcarver nodded, then remembered something. “I’ve read somewhere that heaven is God’s throne, and the earth is His footstool. That piece of wood in my garden doesn’t even come close. I like to serve the people, but truly… nobody really knows what God looks like, do we?”

“We do when you’ve finished the statue,” Mayor replied with a confident smile. “That’s precisely the point. Then everyone will know what god looks like. You are a true craftsman. You can do it.”

Something stirred within Woodcarver. His hand shook and he spilled some of his hot tea on his apron. He had graduated top of his class at the Academy of Woodcarving and no one could match his skill. But a statue of God…? That was another matter entirely. He wasn’t at all sure God Himself would approve of the idea.

Mayor seemed to sense Woodcarver’s hesitation. He gave the artist a good-natured pat on the shoulder and said warmly, “It’s not that difficult, my good man. Just a statue, only very large. And it must be a statue that no one could possibly take offence at. After all, we are all a little afraid of the unknown, and if there is anything unknown, it is god.”

He paused to sip his tea. “Well… what do you think?”

Woodcarver closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Finally, he said, “Well… I have an old book here. I got it from my father, but I’ve never really read it. Father said it contains a fair bit about God.”

Mayor shuffled his feet uneasily. “What sort of book? I hope it’s not that strange book I’ve heard about.”

Woodcarver shrugged, walked over to his cupboard and took an old, dusty book from a stack.

“Here.” He blew the dust off the cover. “It’s called the Book of God.”

Mayor’s face sank. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He pointed at the book. “That book is very outdated.”

Woodcarver ignored him, opened the book and leafed through the pages. Then he exclaimed joyfully, “It says here, for example, that God is kind.”

“Oh!” said Mayor. “That’s good, I guess. What else does it say?”

“It says that we are God’s friends.”

Mayor clapped his hands. “Wonderful! Even though it’s from that silly book, it’s exactly what I want. As I said, my statue needs to look kind and friendly to everyone.”

Woodcarver cleared his throat. “There is more, Mayor. It actually says, ‘You are my friends if you do what I command you.’”

Mayor’s face fell. He wrinkled his nose and said, “See what I mean? That book is too old. It’s so vague. No one knows exactly what god commands us to do. After all, that’s different for every person.”

Woodcarver sighed. “But isn’t the truth the truth? If God made us, wouldn’t He know what is best for us?”

Mayor shook his head. “That old book confuses me. What is the truth? You tell me. I’ve got my truth, and you’ve got yours. What matters is what is true for each person individually.”

The whole idea troubled Woodcarver. He cleared his throat and said softly, “Wouldn’t it be better to read this book first? We might learn a bit more about what God actually looks like and what He asks of us.”

Mayor fixed him with a withering look. “Learn what God asks of us from some dusty old book? My dear man, you are terribly old-fashioned. We passed that station long ago.” He leaned forward and continued in a wise voice, “We have reached the point where we can decide for ourselves what is good and what is bad.” He leaned forward and sneered, “Truly, I expected better advice from you.”

Woodcarver blushed, but turned the pages and read on.

“Well, I never…!” he exclaimed, his finger resting on a page. “Unbelievable!” He looked up, and a broad smile spread across his face.

“What?” asked Mayor.

“It says here exactly what God looks like.”

Mayor’s expression darkened. “What does it say?” he asked, his voice tense.

“It says,” Woodcarver began, “that God has a Son. His name is Jesus, and He is the very image of the God we cannot see. If we want to know what God is like, we have to look at Jesus.” 

Mayor sighed. “My dear boy… what have I tried to tell you these last few minutes? According to reliable sources, that book is filled with fables. It’s nothing but fairy tales written by foolish souls from a distant past, who did not know what they were talking about. Stop wasting my time. This doesn’t help me at all.”

Without looking up, Woodcarver remarked that the passage was rather inspiring. Still absorbed in his reading, he added, “It also says here that God is holy.” 

“Holy? That’s stupid,” Mayor scoffed. “Nobody can reach holiness.” A grim expression had now settled over Mayor’s face. “Holiness will only make people anxious and insecure.”

“But it says here,” Woodcarver pointed out, “that the Son; that’s Jesus who is the image of God, will help us, because we cannot make ourselves good and holy.”

“I said, ‘Stop!’” Mayor commanded. “Stop your nonsense immediately!”

Woodcarver looked up in surprise. “But… it’s… beautiful.”

“Not beautiful at all,” said Mayor. “That musty book sets us back hundreds of years. It’s full of unpleasant and confusing things. If I remember correctly, it even contains strange stories about a dark pit filled with fire where people disappear when they fail to do what god wants. An image like that will only frighten people.” He shook his head vehemently. “The statue I have in mind must in no way create confusion or fear. It must have large, warm eyes and an impressive, inviting smile that convinces everyone that life will always be fun and will turn out perfect.”

“That sounds very different from what I’m reading here,” Woodcarver ventured.

“That may be so,” said Mayor, “but it’s not what I want. I want my statue to be nice.”

For a moment nobody spoke. Both Mayor and Woodcarver seemed absorbed in their own thoughts.

At last, Mayor broke through the silence. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“The arms of my statue need to be full of gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Of course. Gifts are the essence of our faith,” Mayor declared. “Our god needs to be depicted as a god who gives everything to everyone. He is a god who makes us rich and who is never angry. He is a god who accepts everyone just as they are and never asks anything of anyone in return. How can you not agree with that?”

Woodcarver shook his head. “As far as I understand it, God does accept everyone as they are. But because He is holy, He does not want to leave us as we are. He wants to change us.”

Mayor stared at Woodcarver, his eyes wide. “My image wants to change people too,” he butted in. “My idea of god is, that he is so good that people should never get sick, never be poor and never be unhappy… Don’t you get it? We need a god that makes life worth living.”

He cast Woodcarver a dark look. “You know…” he began, “…I’m actually getting a little tired of this conversation.”

“But the truth,” Woodcarver insisted. “It’s all about truth.”

“No more!” Mayor roared. “I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He stamped his foot on the floor. “Now you know how I want my statue to look. When can you have it finished? For the rest, this meeting is over.”

Silence filled the room.

Woodcarver stared at the massive chunk of wood in his garden. Where had Mayor even found such a huge lump? The mayor’s words echoed in his memory: You’ll be rich… and famous.

He sure could use the income. His thoughts drifted to the unfinished legs of Widow Grimsby’s table and the amount of energy he spent on projects like that for so little pay.

But a statue of the mayor’s god?

No. He just couldn’t do it.

He swallowed hard, shook his head and said, “Sorry, Mayor. I will not make it. I don’t believe in the god you’re trying to bring to life. Find someone else.”

Mayor stared at him, his eyes wide. “Have you lost your mind? If you make this statue, you’ll never have to work another day in your life.”

Woodcarver shook his head and pointed toward the door. “Good day, Mr. Mayor. My mind is made up. I won’t do it.”

***

Months later, Woodcarver was on his way to deliver a set of new wooden bowls to Widow Grimsby when he was in for a surprise.

To get to Widow Grimsby’s cottage, he had to cross the market square. The sun was shining and so was his mood, as he whistled a happy tune.

But his good mood was not to last.

Right there, in the middle of the market square, stood Mr. Woodwright, his competitor, busy erecting a peculiar statue.

“W-what are you doing?” Woodcarver asked, staring at the grotesque image before him.

Mr. Woodwright stopped working and flashed Woodcarver a jovial smile.

“Nice, huh?”

“W-what is it?”

“It’s god. This is what god looks like. Got the instructions from Mayor.” He folded his arms and glanced at the bowls Woodcarver was carrying for Widow Grimsby. Then he smirked. “I don’t have to work anymore. Not a day in my life.”

Woodcarver swallowed hard, then mumbled, “It is better to be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.”

“What did you say there?” Mr. Woodwright asked.

“Never mind,” Woodcarver replied. “I’m on an errand.”

And he walked on, leaving the image behind.

What a strange statue it was!

Kind eyes, but one much bigger than the other. The hair on its wooden head was curly on one side and sleek on the other. Its beard was thick on one side but missing altogether on the other. Half its body looked like the chiseled frame of a movie star, complete with muscular biceps, while the other half resembled a kind, frail-looking grandfather who wouldn’t hurt a fly. And his arms… they were laden with presents of all shapes and sizes.

And that was God?

No way!

***

In the months that followed, some people preached about the statue, others wrote books about it and some didn’t really care. But to most, god was simply the good, gentle friend of all citizens, who understood everything, never got in anyone’s way and was always ready to help anyone in need.

But strangely, the atmosphere in the town changed.

Nobody knew why, although whispers began to circulate that it might have something to do with the image of god, Mayor had imposed upon the people. 

Of course, nobody knew for sure.

Nevertheless, people grew ungrateful. Instead of the soft melodies of joy, people shouted curses in the streets. Fear, rather than courage, took the throne in people’s hearts, while honesty and integrity became things of the past. Darkness spread across the land like a heavy blanket.

Even though people believed in the good god of Mayor’s statue, the love of many grew cold. People became lovers of themselves.

Mayor himself died, not long after the statue was erected. He died in his sleep. Some said, he had suffered a heart attack while others claimed, it was simply old age, even though he was barely past sixty. Nobody knew for sure.

Whatever the cause, no one mourned him. Nobody seemed to care.

And Woodcarver?

He had gathered a small group of like-minded people and together they had begun studying the old writings, hoping to discover what God was truly like.

Before long, his house had become one of the few places in the land where the darkness could not penetrate; a place where a joyful light illuminated everything around it.

Mayor had erected his god in the marketplace, but now Mayor was dead.

Woodcarver had no statue. He had only an open book and a few friends, but his house… it was full of light!

_____

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