Bridges Made of Light

It is not that the path / has disappeared. It is only
that, stunned with grief / and kicked by fear,
we sometimes lose our will / to put one foot
in front of the other. / But we are not lost.
Already in the dark / we have found each other.
What astonishes / is that there are so many of us,
and already with our voices / we are building bridges
made of light. / The world shakes,
we stumble / and we help each other rise,
and now it is time / for us again to put one foot
in front of the other— / not to escape what frightens us
but to walk unflinchingly / toward the messy center of things.
The path we choose now / is not one we've walked
or even seen before, / the path is one that appears
beneath our feet / with each step,
and we persist, / travelers in the frozen dark
who begin to see the light / as it shapes the horizon
and know, though it's cold, / that the change we dream of
has already begun to arrive.
“Directions” by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Three images/ideas strike me in this poem: “building bridges made of light,” “the messy center of things,” and “the change we dream of that has already begun to arrive.” Do any of these ideas strike you? Or maybe there is something else that captures your thought and imagination.  
    
I wonder what our bridges made of light are leading us toward? Where do we want them to lead? What change are you dreaming of—for your life, for our church, for our community and world? And it might be easy to discount the “messiness” of the center of things, but I find that messiness can simply mean that more than one person (and more than one community) is involved and must be taken into account. The positive changes I want to see in the world will not always happen neat and tidy and precisely according to my tastes and comfort. They will be much messier than that—organic, evolving, including ideas and creativity from people vastly different from me. I see tremendous grace in that. Perhaps that is building bridges made of light. It invites me to grow. It challenges me to be more welcoming and hospitable and open and full of wonder. It takes me somewhere I might not have planned or expected to go.

I believe our church is actively building bridges made of light as we continue to open ourselves to the leading of the Holy Spirit, as we share our gifts, and as we wholeheartedly dream and move—one foot in front of the other—toward the beautiful, loving, welcoming, messy center of that dream.

See you in church,
Christy

Walk Boldly Yet Gently...

On the day when / The weight deadens
On your shoulders / And you stumble,
May the clay dance / To balance you.
And when your eyes / Freeze behind
The grey window / And the ghost of loss
Gets into you, / May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green / And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you / A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays / In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean Blackens beneath you,
May there come across / the waters
A path of yellow moonlight / To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow / Wind work these words
Of love around you, / An invisible cloak / To mind your life.
            —"Beannacht–A New Year Blessing” by John O’Donohue

Let us walk boldly yet gently into this new year. Let us claim and hold onto joy in defiance of any forces that would deny it. And let us use our joy to uplift and release joy in others. Let us offer our solid commitment to peace as a feisty and blooming alternative to the rising, dingy voice of violence and oppression. Let us believe and generate faith in the abundant possibilities for this new year, rooting ourselves firmly in the justice that is always waiting to be born into our world. And when that justice knocks on the doors of our hearts, let us welcome the vulnerable, the powerless, the voiceless, the homeless, the hopeless, the lonely. And together, let us create a new world where love is the expectation not the exception.
    
Newness meets us everywhere we turn—as the days and light lengthen. These days are ours.  And it is our sacred work to live into beauty and to create hope with all our days. I look forward to this new year of ministry with you!

See you in church,
Christy