The early days of Christianity, Christians faced real danger just for following Jesus. Rome saw them as a threat, so they went underground, literally, into the catacombs, those winding tunnels outside the city used for burying dead people. They weren’t just graves, they were secret gathering spots where small groups could pray, share bread and wine, and remember the dead.
The catacombs were pitch black, cold, and full of echoes, the kind of place that could make anyone feel swallowed by darkness. One thing cut through the gloom, candles. Candles lit by hand, placed near tombs or held during quiet services. They weren’t just practical, they were meaningful too. They reminded everyone that Christ’s light was there, unbroken, and alive, even in the darkest shadows.
During the early Christian era, persecution meant hiding, loss, and the constant shadow of death. But they kept lighting candles anyway. Why? Because Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t walk in the dark, but you’ll have light.” That promise from John 8:12 didn’t mean abstract poetry to them, it meant survival.
In the catacombs, a single candle flame pushed back the night just enough to read Scripture, to see a brother’s face, to share hope. Christ himself, the one who entered the ultimate darkness of the cross and got out victorious. It wasn’t the light that erased tombs or fear, but it showed death doesn’t win.
Psalm 23 talks about walking through a valley of the shadow of death. The psalmist doesn’t say we avoid it, he says we go through it, but we don’t fear evil because God is there for us. It’s not just one time; it’s every season where loss, grief, illness, doubt, or despair closes in like those narrow catacombs. Life throws us into valleys all the time, moments when everything feels heavy and hopeless. Yet the truth still stands.
He doesn’t promise to skip the hard parts, but he does promise his presence, steady as a candle flame that won’t go out when the air is still.
On a gut level, early believers knew this. They lit candles not to pretend darkness wasn’t there, but to declare it wasn’t in control. The flame symbolized resurrection hope, the belief that Christ’s light shines brightest when it’s darkest. John 1:5 says, “There is light shining in the darkness, and the darkness hasn’t overcome it.” No matter how thick the shadow, it can’t snuff that light. The catacombs became more than burial grounds, they became places of defiant worship, full of tiny flames.
Despite the fact that the catacombs seem like ancient history now, the valleys still exist. It’s a dark night of the soul, when answers feel far off, when pain lingers, when it seems like the world is a mess. The image of candles in the catacombs reminds us that Christ’s light isn’t something we have to earn or manufacture, it’s already there.
A simple, faithful flame is all you need to push back despair. Prayer, Scripture, community, acts of kindness, these are our modern candles, small but powerful ways to let his light shine.
Let’s look at how a candle works. The wax melts, the wick burns, and it produces light. That’s the image of Christ, who gave himself up for us. In the catacombs, every candle reminded them of that sacrifice and the empty tomb that followed. It pointed to hope beyond the grave. We can lean into that same reality when we face our valleys. In tough times, Christ’s Light endures, comforts, and guides, not flickers out. “The Lord is my light and my salvation, who shall I fear?” That’s not bravado, it’s confidence.
Candles weren’t lit to ignore the darkness, they were lit to confront it. These flames, surrounded by martyrs’ bones, said death is real, but resurrection is realer. It’s true that suffering is real, but God’s presence is closer. Fear is real, but perfect love casts it out. That’s the message that never changes.
If we’re in a valley, whether it’s grief over a loved one, anxiety about the future, or sin, we can choose to light our own candles. We turn to Jesus, who walked the darkest path of all and won. His light penetrates through, giving us peace that doesn’t depend on circumstances.
When you feel stuck in a valley, think about those ancient believers in the catacombs. Imagine the soft glow of candlelight on rough walls and the quiet prayers rising. It’s the same Christ who’s light for you too. He walks with you, rod and staff in hand, turning shadows into paths of hope. Keep your flame burning, no matter how small it seems, because it’s connected to the one that never goes out, too. The darkness may feel overwhelming, but it’s never defeated the light.
