...I am, you are

We are called to be God’s prophets, speaking for the truth and right,

Standing firm for godly justice, bringing evil into light.

Let us seek the courage needed, our high calling to fulfill,

That we all may know the blessing of the doing of God’s will.

---Thomas A. Jackson, 1973

Prophet. When I see the word, my mind goes to oracles, seers, fortune-tellers, or at least future-tellers. Some guy dressed in outrageous rags with a more outrageous hair-do, straight up giving the king the business. Same dude, few days later, found tossed off the city heights or ripped limb from limb ‘under mysterious circumstances’. Is that your mental image, too? This does not sound like a highly sought-after gig, my people. 

In actuality, the word means something less spectacular, and more applicable to our lives today. A prophet is one who speaks a fresh word from God for the world. You see my meaning? We could all be called to be prophets, listening to the guidance of God as we share a fresh message of hope to the world. We could be the ones called to envision and embody the reign of Christ in the world. We could be the ones called to speak hope to despair. Strength to fear. Love to apathy. Welcome to mistrust. Plenty to scarcity.  Sound daunting? It does to me, too. But our help and courage comes from our close relatedness to Jesus and his message.

Prophets. I am, and you are. All of us are called. And family…we have these voices for a reason.

...illuminated in your presence

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;

naught be all else to me, save that thou art:

thou my best thought, by day or by night,

waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.

---trad. Irish

“The room lit up when she walked in.” You can picture it—I bet you can—from a scene in a movie, or maybe even from a lucky moment in real life. That moment, the rare one, when the stir of the cocktail party crowd stills, the sea of tuxedoed and pearl necklaced extras parts, and the one glides across the room, lighting her own path, a hundred eyes following her. You can tell from the glow that she is the leading lady. You’ve probably experienced this effect irl (in real life) as well—the way some people seem to light up a room with their very presence, making everyone else around them lighter, too. We’re like moths, in those moments, drawn to that light.

In this beloved Irish hymn, the text speaks of God metaphorically. Among those metaphors is God’s presence as light. Not that God brings light, or that knowing God creates light, or that God helps us see light, although all of those may be true and are undoubtedly good. No, in this text, God’s presence is, itself, light. When God is my light, what is illuminated in my life? Things I had yet to notice, gifts or strengths yet to be exercised? Hurts and fears I had hidden away, in the dark, even from myself? Is, perhaps, the full beauty of my being illuminated in the presence of God, expressed as light?

If my life lights up when God walks in…what then?

...defying and defining

Praise the One who breaks the darkness with a liberating light;

praise the One who frees the prisoners, turning blindness into sight.

Praise the One who preached the Gospel, healing every dread disease,

calming storms, and feeding thousands with the very Bread of peace.

---Rusty Edwards, 1987

Under cover of darkness. They kept me in the dark about their true intentions. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Are you afraid of the dark? …these are a few of the things that come to mind when I think of darkness. How about you? Are there sayings, song lyrics, lines of poetry that stay with you when you think of darkness?

I’ll be adding the first line of this hymn to my darkness ‘quotable quotes’, because it is fab.u. lous. The image of ‘breaking the darkness’ immediately evokes daybreak and the break of dawn (and though I haven’t witnessed overly many daybreaks, I hear sunrise is glorious!). I can close my eyes and picture the dark, shattered by the inexorable, irresistible force of light, uncovering, revealing, illuminating. I imagine squinting against the sudden brightness, my skin soaking in the growing warmth.

And I can only begin to grasp what freedom there would be in light, if I had felt bound till the breaking by an endless night of dark. What that liberation must feel like, when the first hint of light glows on the horizon. It would be enough to send me to my knees in praise.

It was Anne Frank who said, “Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”

Break the darkness, liberating Light, and not just for me…

...don't make me go

Glorious now behold Him arise, King and God and sacrifice;

Alleluia, Alleluia, sounds through the earth and skies.

O star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright,

Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to Thy perfect light.

--John Henry Hopkins, Jr., 1857

Christmas is a strange kind of baby shower for Christians. Even as we celebrate the birth of Jesus, with mirth and pure joy, we know that the week of Christ’s Passion is around the corner. We welcome the baby with the angels’ song echoing in our ears; but we know the rest of the story. We anticipate crying “Crucify!” with the crowd disappointed in the vision of a Savior who won’t destroy Roman rule. Just like the chore of putting away the Christmas decorations, we turn the corner between Christmas and Good Friday with reluctance.

This Epiphany hymn celebrates the gifts of the Magi: gold, a gift fit for a king; frankincense, an offering to a god; myrrh, an embalming spice foreshadowing Christ’s death at the hands of unchecked political and religious power.

Guide us to Your perfect Light.

...beckoning, urging

I want to walk as a child of the light; I want to follow Jesus.

God set the stars to give light to the world; the star of my life is Jesus.

In Him there is no darkness at all; the night and the day are both alike.

The Lamb is the light of the city of God: Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

---Kathleen Thomerson, 1966

In the total dark the smallest light stands out, bright as a beacon. There is no question, the source of the light, the direction from which it shines, how to aim to walk toward it. 

In the shining grey of dawn, that same small light is not so easy to pinpoint. Where it is shining, how big the light is, what it reflects off, even how to walk toward its source--none of this is as clear in a changed environment. Is the light shining down, out, up, around, over? 

Who knew light was so hard to put your finger on?

This text deals with the duality of light, peculiar to religious expression. In the faith view of Christianity, Jesus is a light out front of us, to guide us in the right path. This light guides both our belief and our everyday action, leading us to consider the quality of Jesus’ light to form our own quality of life.

But there is a second aspect to the light that is Jesus. That light exists not only outside of us, to guide, but dwells soul-deep to light our inner lives. Jesus lives and works in the world, but also lives and works in our hearts--both beckoning and urging. This light guides our steps, and illuminates our spirits.

I want to walk as a child of the light.

...what feet are for

Oh, how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way, leaning on the everlasting arms;

oh, how bright the path grows from day to day, leaning on the everlasting arms.

---Elisha A. Hoffman, 1887

Path. Way. Journey. Through the years, these expressions of spiritual life have come to ring truest in my ear, and resonate most soundly in my soul. While I am not always positive about my destination, and my goals change, and sometimes finish lines seem frustratingly movable, feeling called to the journey is a constant. If day breaks, there is a path, and even when I may not be totally sold on the reason, my feet will be on it, because that is what feet, and paths, are for.

In this little bit of late-19^th cent. poetry, the hymnist speaks of the path growing bright from day to day. My mind travels to the memory verse from Bible Drill---“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105) And the thing is, I’ve walked on some dark paths in my life (yep, literal and metaphorical), and I know how lights work. That flashlight? Even a good one, with the batteries you remembered to replace before you packed it up for the campout? It illuminates the path a few steps ahead.

God’s presence? Right there with us on the path, every step of the way. But that light it throws? It’s a flashlight, not a floodlight. We were always meant to walk leaning on God, steps at a time, waiting for the light to shine up ahead.

Wow. Light for the journey, and an arm to lean on. On the path with Jesus.

...holding ourselves hostage

He breaks the power of canceled sin, He sets the prisoner free;

His blood can make the foulest clean, His blood availed for me.

---Charles Wesley, 1739

I have been singing this hymn for most of my life, and other Christians have been singing it since, well, the mid-1700s when Charles Wesley composed the text. You can imagine, then, how surprised I was by something new speaking to me from this page of the hymnal.

I believe most of us are familiar with the idea that Christ’s sacrifice has freed us from, and forgiven us for, our sins. This act of Christ’s has removed the separation between us and God. Look closer with me at the first phrase of the selected verse: He breaks the power of canceled sin. Now I am thinking, what is the power of sin, if it has been canceled by Christ? For me, the power of canceled sin in our lives is guilt, and the inability to really believe in Christ’s power to forgive. With the memory of sin, its shadow, hanging over our heads, we continue to live as sinful, and therefore separated beings.

And friends, living in the shadow of canceled sin, in guilt, is in no way living as free people. In a way, guilt is more of a prison than sin ever was---because, brothers and sisters, we sit in cells with unlocked doors, steadfastly refusing to step out into the freedom of forgiveness. By letting guilt exercise its death-grip on our hearts, we hold ourselves hostage.

But we have a great Redeemer. Our gracious Master has not only broken the power of active sin in our lives, but also the power of canceled sin. We are free from sin…and guilt. We are free.

...pass-along gifts...mighty good tidings

Arise, your light is come! The Spirit’s call obey;

show forth the glory of your God, which shines on you today.

Arise, your light is come! Fling wide the prison door;

proclaim the captive’s liberty, good tidings to the poor.

---Ruth Duck, 1974

We are so used to hearing the themes of Advent and Christmastide that they ring almost common in our ears, feel a bit bland rolling off our tongues…Light! Glory! Good tidings! When I stop and think about these things, they make me glad --- I need some good tidings, and some light, and a little glory to shine down on me! Yay, me!

Then hymnist Ruth Duck uses the prophet’s message from Isaiah to call my attention back to intention. Yes, some of that God-glory falls on me...but not to soak up and store. That glory, that light, those are pass-along gifts from a God who has called us as co-laborers in the life-work of lifting, reviving, nurturing, and restoring. These gifts? They were never meant for me, for us, to get and keep. This glory, this light, has always been destined for community.

And those, my friends, are mighty good tidings.

...longing for light

Longing for light, we wait in darkness. 
Longing for truth, we turn to you. 
Make us your own, your holy people,
light for the world to see.
---Bernadette Farrell, 1993

There is something in us, in all creation, that longs for light, seeks it out like air, like water. We reach for it, grow toward it. In some very real way, become it. The corner office, the room with a view, sunroof, convertible top down. We are sun-seekers. Trees and grasses stretch themselves toward the sky in search of their share of sun, soak it up, turn it to green, to growth.

In these long nights, short days, clouded skies, how we yearn for the light. How we exult in the sun, when it comes.

...waiting on Light

This is it. The longest night. The turning of the year. If we are counting the daylight in minutes, we begin using + signs starting tomorrow.

And oh, what a difference a little light makes! We yearn, we long, we seek for signs of light. We turn eagerly to the horizon at the rising, we note the stretching of the setting time with upturned faces, distant gazes.

In a primitive way, light means life. But even in our modern, mostly-indoor world, with 24-hour light (more than we need, more than is healthy), our bodies still settle into the rhythms set by the rising and setting. We relax into the natural light of day.

Here, just at the turning, we ready our hearts for the coming of Light. This Light, too, shines in the darkness. And we are promised, and I hang on to the promise, that no darkness will overcome it.

I'm waiting, again, on the Light.

...in it, and of it

I want to walk as a child of the light; I want to follow Jesus.

God set the stars to give light to the world; the star of my life is Jesus.

In Him there is no darkness at all; the night and the day are both alike.

The Lamb is the light of the city of God: Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

---Kathleen Thomerson, 1966

This text deals with the duality of light, peculiar to religious expression. In the faith view of Christianity, Jesus is a light out front of us, to guide us in the right path. This light guides both our belief and our everyday action, leading us to consider the quality of Jesus’ light to form our own quality of life.

But there is a second aspect to the light that is Jesus. That light exists not only outside of us, to guide, but abides to light our inner lives. Jesus lives and works in the world, but also lives and works in our hearts, both beckoning and urging. This light guides our steps, and illuminates our souls. We are in the light, and made of it.

I want to walk as a child of the light.

...to not see

Teach me your way, O Lord, teach me your way!

your guiding grace afford, teach me your way!

Help me to walk aright, more by faith, less by sight;

lead me with heavenly light, teach me your way.

---B. Mansell Ramsey, 1919

More by faith, less by sight. Is there anything we humans like less than not seeing? Whether it is a fear of the dark, the panic of a blindfold, or the frustration of low vision or driving through a pounding rainstorm, not seeing can leave us feeling helpless, and hopeless. Yet in scripture we are instructed to ‘walk by faith and not by sight.’ Could anything take us out of our comfort zone faster?

How might our lives change if we walked less by sight and more by faith? Would our decision-making process change? What judgements might we forgo, or at least suspend?  Would we experience others’ needs and problems in a different light? Would our dependence on God make us weak…or would it make us strong?

...what light does

Live Your Light within and through us,

dawn in us eternal day.

Tell us, as we brave the darkness,

when to speak and what to say.

---Terry W. York, 2006

If you learned the song as a child, I bet you’ll have trouble not acting out some of the motions right now, where you sit---

            This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!

            Hide it under a bushel? No! I’m gonna let it shine!

            Won’t let Satan {whuff} it out! I’m gonna let it shine!

Did I see you with your finger up, “letting it shine?” There is such a good message for us in this simple song---the message to live our truth boldly in the world, unashamed of the love we profess, refusing to let the not-love quench the flame. I want to live this way, I do; and some days I get closer than others.

But here’s the thing. If the Source of Light is in us (and It is, oh, It is), we. just. shine. Not because we’re shiny every single day. Not because we produce any light in and of ourselves. But because the Source, the Light of the World, is in us, lighting the world through us. All we’ve got to do is get out of the way and let the Light do…what Light does, for Heaven’s sake.

With the light of Christ in you---I dare you not to shine.

...flashlight, not floodlight

Oh, how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way, leaning on the everlasting arms;

oh, how bright the path grows from day to day, leaning on the everlasting arms.

---Elisha A. Hoffman, 1887

Path. Way. Journey. Through the years, these expressions of spiritual life have come to ring truest in my ear, and resonate most soundly in my soul. While I am not always positive about my destination, and my goals change, and sometimes finish lines seem frustratingly movable, feeling called to the journey is a constant. If day breaks, there is a path, and even when I may not be totally sold on the reason, my feet will be on it, because that is what feet, and paths, are for.

In this little bit of late-19^th cent. poetry, the hymnist speaks of the path growing bright from day to day. My mind travels to the memory verse from Bible Drill---“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105) And the thing is, I’ve walked on some dark paths in my life (yep, literal and metaphorical), and I know how lights work. That flashlight? Even a good one, with the batteries you remembered to replace before you packed it up for the campout? It illuminates the path only a few steps ahead.

God’s presence? Right there with us on the path, every step of the way. But that light it throws? It’s a flashlight, not a floodlight. We were always meant to walk leaning on God, steps at a time, waiting for the light to shine up ahead.

Wow. Light for the journey, and an arm to lean on. On the path with Jesus.

...the dark light

We travelers, walking to the sun, can't see
Ahead, but looking back the very light
That blinded us shows us the way we came,
Along which blessings now appear, risen
As if from sightlessness to sight, and we,
By blessing brightly lit, keep going toward 
The blessed light that yet to us is dark.
---Wendell Berry, 1999

I was sun-blind. Could not see anything ahead, not road, nor obstacle, nor turn. Unsure of what step to take next, whether to step at all, paralyzed with the blind fear of it.

Then I looked back. Not a long look, a stare. Not a longing gaze, cast with an eye to return. Just a look. And that look made me sure again---it reassured me.

Even when light hid light from my clear view, I was being led, guided; a path was being made. So, though I did not see, I stepped into the light.

It had led me before.

...pass-along glory

Arise, your light is come! The Spirit’s call obey;

show forth the glory of your God, which shines on you today.

Arise, your light is come! Fling wide the prison door;

proclaim the captive’s liberty, good tidings to the poor.

---Ruth Duck, 1974

We are so used to hearing the themes of Advent and Christmastide that they ring almost common in our ears, feel a bit bland rolling off our tongues…Light! Glory! Good tidings! When I stop and think about these things, they make me glad --- I need some good tidings, and some light, and a little glory to shine down on me! Yay, me!

Then hymnist Ruth Duck uses the prophet’s message from Isaiah to call my attention back to intention. Yes, some of that God-glory falls on me...but not to soak up and store. That glory, that light, those are pass-along gifts from a God who has called us as co-laborers in the life-work of lifting, reviving, nurturing, and restoring. These gifts? They were never meant for me, for us, to get and keep. This glory, this light, has always been destined for community.

And those, my friends, are mighty good tidings.

...that kind of dawn

Light dawns on a weary world when eyes 
begin to see all people's dignity.
Light dawns on a weary world: 
the promised day of justice comes.
The trees shall clap their hands; the dry lands, gush with springs;
the hills and mountains shall break forth with singing!
We shall go out in joy, and be led forth in peace,
as all the world in wonder echoes 'shalom'.
---Mary Louise Bringle, 2001

What would true justice look like? Would it be absolute fairness? A chance for everyone, then everyone for himself? Mel Bringle envisions justice as a condition by which we truly see each other, and thus see the intrinsic value in the other; we view each other with dignity.

Our world's response to the dawning of the day of justice in our world, weary for it, thirsty for it? Isaiah suggests we might witness the natural world break the bounds of possible and become animated with joy---forests and mountains clapping and singing out of their own accord, lending voice to God's own joy over humankind gone mad with value and esteem.

And we ourselves? The prophet says joy will overcome us, too---that our steps will lead us out in joy and peace. I don't know about you, but I imagine I'd walk a little differently on this earth each day if my steps were ordered by joy and peace. Can you feel the rhythm of that gait in your body, in your soul, right now?

Are you smiling? I know I am; I just can't help it. It is no surprise to me that the world shares the wonder at the 'shalom' (literally, the wholeness found in community) that we find together.

That's the kind of dawn I'd get up early for...

...a whole lot of light

Heavy clouds that block the moonlight now begin to drift away.
Diamond brilliance through the darkness shines the hope of coming day.
Christ, the morning star of splendor, gleams within a world grown dim. 
Heaven's ember fans to fullness; hearts grow warm to welcome him.
---Mary Louise Bringle, 2005

Waiting is so hard. The smallest sign can be enough to keep you hanging on.

When you are sitting in the dark, even a tiny glow looks like a whole lot of light. Day is breaking...can you feel it?

We wait with expectation for the dawning of light in our world.

...and nothing else

Many the gifts, many the people,
many the hearts that yearn to belong.
Let us be servants to one another,
making your kingdom come.
Christ, be our light! 
Shine in our hearts. Shine through the darkness.
Christ, be our light!
Shine in your church gathered today!
---Bernadette Farrell, 1993

The title of the 1979 memoir I'm Dancing as Fast as I Can always makes me think of that moment when someone has given 100 percent. "You take it from here, pardner," I hear them say, "I'm out." Or, <mic drop>...done. Elvis has left the building.

And I sometimes wonder if Jesus ever felt a bit of the pull of that tension---his time ticking away, knowing he'd need to count on his rag-tag band of followers to spread the word (that love was the way), knowing he was the Sun, but he'd be having to count on the Moon to reflect the shine in the world before too long. I wonder if Jesus felt like he was dancing as fast as he could.

The church lives in that tension too---never more so than here in the Advent season, when we await the great Already/NotYet: the shining of Light into our shadowy corners, the coming of Christ into our longing world. This verse of the modern folk hymn Christ, Be Our Light by Bernadette Farrell speaks to the divergence, and richness, of what we know, and acknowledge, and embrace. While we yearn for Christ to be our light in this world, to dawn on us, we yoke ourselves with Christ the Sun. As the church, we are the body of Christ in the world, reflecting light like the moon reflects the sun's.

If Christ is to shine in the shadowed corners, it will be through the light reflected by Christ's body, the church. It will be because we served one another. It will be because we welcomed each other. It will be because we nurtured and developed the gifts each brought to share.

If Christ is to shine in our world today, it will be because the church is devoted to the work of building the reign of Love, and nothing else.

...light me up

Jyothi dho Prabhu.

(Give us light, O Lord.)

---bhajan, northern India

Give it to me, baby. 

Give me all your 4's (Go fish).  

Give me patience, and I want it right now.

Give me all your money, and nobody gets hurt.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses.

Gimme.

We love the word. We use it early and often. To be fair, sometimes we are doing the giving, and that is a really good thing. But in this prayer from northern India, the pray-ers are asking---Give us light. We want it. What you have, Lord. Light of the world. Light for all time, or just the light that might get us through this present darkness. We yearn for that light, beg hungrily for it during our shadow seasons. And we maybe don't care if we sound grabby and greedy when we do the pleading. Our gimmes are that overpowering, and the dark is that, well, dark-ish.

Yet here's the thing. The prayer for light---Give it to us, Jesus---turns out to be not so selfish after all. Because the gift of light is sort of like Oprah's big car giveaway. Just one person can't get the light. Nah, light doesn't work that way. See, if you are sitting beside me? and you get light? guess what? That same light lights me up, too! And I can hear Oprah exclaiming, "YOU get a light! and YOU get a light! and YOU get a light!"

Because when light shines in this life, it lights up the whole place. That's the way light is. It's a gimme. 

Thank God.