As daylight breaks, The Sun gently makes its way across the room. A brightness calling out, But without sound, That which is truly out of sight.
A beacon as it beckons, Come closer, Look to see. Rising up and drawing near, A clearer view awaits.
Darker shades turn to blue, Then lighter still, Altogether moving up, Orange, yellow, gold, So bold, so pure, so true.
It echoes all around, A promise made as well as kept, From One heart to another, Meet me here, meet me there, No matter what, you can meet me anywhere.
Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, his love is everlasting. – Psalm 118:1
Each year as Christmas approaches, I fondly recall a childhood ritual of time spent with a couple of my siblings, huddled around a department store’s holiday edition catalog. The three of us would look at what seemed like endless pages of different games and toys, dreaming of what it would be like to call them our own. At the same time though, we knew that was not going to happen.
Still, each year, we would come together, at the kitchen table or lying on our stomachs on the rug in the family room, captivated by the pictures and descriptions. We were all on, or around, the same page, and not a page was turned until all three of us were ready to move on. Of course, sometimes, we would negotiate and come back to particular page or skip ahead to a different section, but always, we stayed together.
It’s interesting what sharing, can bring to a situation. Although my older sister, younger brother, and I were frequently drawn to different games or toys, we were consistently drawn together. Over the years, the experience of sharing our time with each other as well as our excitement and interest… hopes and dreams, made it seem like anything was possible in the sacred space we shared.
This year, in a pandemic ridden world, where space is better not shared, perhaps another kind of invitation lies in waiting—a bridge of sorts. Maybe a chance to find that which has been overlooked, or what might otherwise be lost. An opportunity to remember or to see more than what we think we know.
As a child looking at those pages of games and toys, I thought it was the catalog that brought such great excitement. However, while it was intriguing back then, now I understand it differently. So often, time and distance can bring perspective in a way that reveals truth or deeper understanding of any matter.
On the 3rd Sunday of Advent, a time of waiting and reflecting, we read in the Gospel according to John that John the Baptist said, “…there is one among you whom you do not recognize…” (John 1:26-27), to the priests and Levites sent to question him. He was speaking of Jesus. Yet, we know that even today, there are moments where each of us can say to ourselves, “there is one among you whom you do not recognize.” Whether it is a person, place, or thing, when we think of it, how do we speak of, and to, Jesus?
A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.
And this is the testimony of John. When the Jews from Jerusalem sent priests and Levites to him to ask him, “Who are you?” He admitted and did not deny it, but admitted, “I am not the Christ.” So they asked him, “What are you then? Are you Elijah?” And he said, “I am not.” “Are you the Prophet?” He answered, “No.” So they said to him, “Who are you, so we can give an answer to those who sent us? What do you have to say for yourself?” He said: “I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, ‘make straight the way of the Lord,’” as Isaiah the prophet said.” Some Pharisees were also sent. They asked him, “Why then do you baptize if you are not the Christ or Elijah or the Prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water; but there is one among you whom you do not recognize, the one who is coming after me, whose sandal strap I am not worthy to untie.” This happened in Bethany across the Jordan, where John was baptizing. – John 1:6-8, 19-28
“Everyone has a story to tell.” These were the words on a t-shirt. Yes, there is a story behind and within everyone as well as everything. The t-shirt was striking. It was black and the words white. It was reminiscent of a chalkboard, from younger days, that would be erased at the end of each day. In a blank state, it held promise and possibility for the day to come…a new day, another chance.
Over the past week or so, further signs of spring (flowers pushing through the earth, a bounty of singing birds, warming temperatures and more) have been appearing here and there. Along with the bursts of color and sound, life is renewed in both what is new and what is old. In looking more closely, there is often more than what is initially revealed. There waits a story, perhaps a message, beyond what meets the eye or turns the ear.
Every year in New England, as season’s change, nature’s slate, although not erased or hidden completely, changes also. It gives way to birth and re-birth in so many ways. There is something new with each day even when we cannot see it or do not notice it. So often, spring seems to blossom out of nowhere, yet we know it has been in the making all winter long, and carrying over from year to year. Our lives are similar. We are offered opportunities with each hour, each day, and each year. Whether we fully realize it or not, each day in a sense is a fresh start…a blank slate…an empty canvas. How we see it and what we fill it with… what we put on it, is up to us.
Sometimes knowingly, sometimes not, we resist the call to change. We resist the Way that seeks to bring us, one day at a time, one moment at a time, into fullness of life…into wholeness. “Everyone has a story tell,” and what a story it can be when we embrace who we truly are. When we remember how blessed we are.
“In your offspring, all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”
– God to Abraham as written in Acts 3:25
HopeThatFloats 