On an island off the coast of a rocky shore stood a stately lighthouse. During the day, the white walls of the lighthouse shimmered and sparkled under the sunlight, while at night it burned a light for those at sea that outshone even the stars. Many people visited the lighthouse, and when they did, they commented on its size and strength and admired the artistic beauty that it added to the surrounding landscape. Some told its keeper of how its light had saved them during a storm.

All loved the lighthouse, with one exception: a little oil lamp that lived in the lighthouse. By day it hung forgotten at the bottom of the stairs. At dusk it helped the keeper of the lighthouse make his way from the bottom of the stairs to the lantern room. It seemed to the oil lamp that he fell far short. To his way of thinking, his shortcomings were magnified by his nearness to one so much greater than he. Always, the oil lamp labored under this heaviness of heart.

Then one day, after a particularly brilliant afternoon when many visitors had come to play on the sandy turf of the island, there was a knock at the door. It was a boy, searching for a friend who was lost. The sun had set, and what had seemed such friendly shores hours before were now dark and foreboding. Could the kindly keeper of the lighthouse help him find his friend?

The keeper quickly took the youth inside and, after bundling him into a blanket, turned to get his own coat to protect himself from the night chill.

Then he reached to the hook between the door and the stairs, and took down the little oil lamp. After carefully making sure that the wick was wet with oil and the tank full, the keeper lit the lamp and whispered, “Burn bright tonight, faithful friend. I cannot take the lighthouse with me. He serves his purpose here, but you were made for times like this. It is now that I need you most!”

In that instant, all of the oil lamp’s misgivings were replaced by joy - joy in knowing that here was something only he could do. All through the night, through brambles and brush, the oil lamp burned brighter and more steadily than ever before. He had to; the keeper was depending on him. At last the lost boy was found and brought safely back to the lighthouse and his friend.

Never again did the oil lamp doubt his place or purpose. He had learned a great lesson that night: He was happiest and most useful being himself.

You, too, have a special place and purpose that no one else can fill. Others may seem to have greater talents, but the Keeper of our hearts, in His great all-knowing love, made you the way He did for a reason. Never think your light too small to make a difference.