My ninth birthday was memorable. I was supposed to get a bike light so that I could ride at night like my brothers, who got one for their ninth birthday, as did their ancestors before them. For years I looked forward to it, for this was no ordinary light like the modern versions, with multiple features and lithium batteries. This lamp was connected by wires to a contraption called a dynamo, which was mounted on the front fork and generated power by engaging the rotating wheel.

But came the day, and dreams of riding the streets at night, and even the bush tracks near our home – dodging the wildlife, feeling the night air, seeing the stars wheel overhead, finally being part of the neighbourhood gang,…. evaporated upon ripping the gift paper. I can’t remember what I got, but I do remember what I didn’t. Nor did the wished-for present materialize on my tenth birthday, nor on any of the critical years that followed.

But then on my nineteenth it finally happened. A dynamo! But not in the form I expected. But in the form of a Person, present, indwelling, and shedding his light within. And not just lighting up my head, but also my heart, and my soul. And infusing his grace, and suffusing his love. And opening my world to something bigger than I could ever imagine; for now I can see the path ahead, and well into the night, and not only dodge the rocks, but enjoy the ride.