...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?

...losing our grip on the good news

You call us, Christ, to gather the people of the earth.

We cannot fish for only those lives we think have worth.

We spread your net of gospel across the water’s face,

our boat a common shelter for all found by your grace.

---Sylvia Dunstan, 1991

Tell a good enough story, you never know who might show up!

Picture this. You’ve got this great product, and you want to get the word out. But. You want to practice a little targeted-demographic marketing. You only want to attract a certain kind of clientele. So you shape your message, subliminally almost, choose your media carefully, vet your messengers---all in the hope of building the kind of customer base you have in mind. Great plan.

But something goes awry. Maybe there are leaks in your marketing. Maybe your media shifts at the last minute. But the story gets out---wide. And people have been waiting for this. The---crowd---goes---wild! Everybody wants in on what you are offering. That exclusive demographic? Fugeddaboudit. You have just lost your grip on your brand.

Sometimes good news is like that. It goes where it wants, not where we plan. Thank God. Because, friends, our plans are never as grand as God’s. Our vision is never as long as God’s. And our reach is never as broad as God’s. So, although letting go of the marketing plan can be a little scary (‘The Spirit is on the loose!’ says a friend of mine gleefully, only half-joking), trusting God’s story to do its work in the world and welcoming all who come is a pretty good plan all on its own!

Let’s see who shows up!

...on singing all the verses

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;

Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;

his craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,

on earth is not his equal.

---Martin Luther, c. 1529

In some churches, when time in the service runs short, hymns may be abbreviated by leaving out verses (personally, I think each verse has its own message for me, and I love singing them all!). With most hymns you lose some of the wisdom using this approach, but the general message remains understandable. Today’s hymn is a stark exception. Sing only the first verse of this hymn, and the world is left in the hands of evil, with no valiant hero to fend off our “ancient foe”. What a state we’re left in at the end of the first verse of this 500-year-old hymn!

But in hymns as in life, an old saying comes to mind. It goes like this: “Everything works out in the end. If things haven’t worked out, it’s not the end!” With our human shortsightedness, we grow impatient for things to work out, for problems to be solved, for worries to be calmed, for questions to be answered, for right to prevail. Because our sight is limited to vision, we tremble at the unseen unresolved. Because our sense of time is limited to what we can measure, we cower at the prospect of a boundless future. Remembering that God’s time is not often our time, let us actively await the final stanza…

“God’s kingdom is forever.”

...seeking that city

In haunts of wretchedness and need,

On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,

From paths where hide the lures of greed

We catch the vision of your tears.

---Frank Mason North, 1903

What a privilege we have today, to experience this hymn, just over a century old. It presents a great contrast between two cities --- one earthly, one the city of God. In this verse, I can almost feel the dank walls of the city closing in on me: narrow alleys with doorways leading to shadowy rooms; streets crowded with strangers passing, eyes down; threat of danger holding in the stale air like a threadbare blanket. Wretchedness, greed, fear, the noise of selfish strife, lurk around each corner and haunt each boulevard.

But there is another city, another city than the one we manage to create when left to our own devices. This city is inhabited with love, and the streets are paved with the footfalls of Jesus; walking in them, living in the atmosphere of love, we put our hands to the wheel to co-create the Kingdom with our Savior. The cup of cold water still holds the freshness of grace; we tread the streets together, Christ among us, on his face “strong compassion.”

Seeking that City…

...the darkness hide thee

Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide thee,

though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see;

only thou art holy; there is none beside thee,

Perfect in power, in love, and purity.

---Reginald Heber, 1826

It has been a little while (ahem) since I last studied child development, so this week I did a bit of refreshing on the concept of ‘object permanence’. The theory behind object permanence is this: once human comprehension develops to a certain level we can grasp the idea that objects can exist, even when we cannot see them. I was imagining that the age for developing this sense might be a year to 18 months old, and was surprised to find that current research supports a range of three to eight months as the time frame for this understanding to emerge. Imagine how terrifying a game of peekaboo would be for a young child with no sense of object permanence --- when you cover up your face, you are actually gone!

Though we would all agree that God is not object, this hymn suggests that a sense of object permanence is necessary in visioning Godself, individually and as a people. At times both the shadows of this world --- hate, violence, disregard, presumption --- and the shadows of our own souls --- hurt, fear, envy, pain, disappointment --- keep us from laying eyes on the glory, the evidence, of God’s presence with us. None of those shadows, though, none of them, keep the reality of God’s presence from us.

As we, then, whatever our stage of human or divine development, seek a sense of communion with Holiness, may we remember: seen or unseen, hidden or revealed, speaking or silent, God is with us, close as breath, holy.

...with rare perfume

A prophet-woman broke a jar, by Love's divine appointing.
With rare perfume she filled the room,
presiding and anointing.
A prophet-woman broke a jar, the sneers of scorn defying.
With rare perfume she filled the room,
preparing Christ for dying.

The Spirit knows; the Spirit calls, by Love's divine ordaining,
the friends we need, to serve and lead,
their powers and gifts unchaining.
The Spirit knows; the Spirit calls,
from women, men, and children,
the friends we need, to serve and lead.
Rejoice, and make them welcome!
---Brian Wren, 1991

In that day, says the Lord, I will pour out my spirit on all people;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy;
the old among you will dream dreams,
and the young in your midst shall see visions.
On people of every station in life, women and men, 
in those days I will pour out my spirit.
---Joel 2:28-29 (para. laca)

...to turn on the light

Do not, Mystery and Mercy, keep from me
what you alone can grant;
wrap me in the safety of your
strong and steady love,
let me feel the 'yes' of your faithfulness.
For the darkness of the world 
tangles around me,
enmeshed with my own 
inner shadow spaces,
until vision is a memory,
or a dream;
the shadows innumerable, 
my weakness takes my breath away.
You would delight to see me
delivered, relieved of
threats from the world,
and of my own weaving.
---Psalm 40:11-13 (para. laca)

It is so easy for me to get 'wrapped up', entangled, knotted, in the bad things happening out there. World things that happen because we are part of this world. Stuff that goes down in this broken world. Things people do that they have no business doing. Some of those things, they do to me. I know, right? And it makes me want to cry out, "God help us!" And sometimes I do. And once in a while I get a little more selfish, and I want to cry, "God help me!" 

And sometimes I do.

And God, Mystery and Mercy, says "Here I am." Which isn't always as satisfying as, "I hereby slap the baddies with tough karma and the flu!" But, then, God is God, and maybe plays the game a few moves ahead of us.

And there is this other thing. With all the darkness in the world, we sometimes can't let well enough alone. We go around creating more, and hiding it away in the nooks and crannies of our own souls. Friends, those shadowy places inside of us? They are at least as dangerous and threatening as the darkness the world tries to wrap around us. They push against us from the inside, sending out tangles of pain and hurt that interweave with the hurt and pain winding around us from the outside, and we are caught in the middle, left breathless and helpless, bound by the shadows. We can't even remember what it was to see clearly, or picture what it might be like to see again.

But the story doesn't end there. The great mystery and mercy is that, in the moment of our night-blindness, when we are bound by darkness falling on us and coming from us, there is One who is pleased to cut us loose, and turn on the light.

Praise be.