Poem:

A Blessing of  the Light

May God’s light fall on you:

Warm your skin;

Seep through the atoms of your being;

Find the hurting places, and

Touch them, with love.

May it lift your chin and pour into your eyes.

May it kindle the love that only you can bring:

A glimmer in the darkness.

 

May God’s light grow in you.

Glow in you.

Connecting the inner pathways;

Bridging the broken places.

May it rise up from your belly,

Energising and revitalising,

Opening up the sacred space

Within you.

 

May God’s light shine from you.

May your eyes be lanterns

For the light within your soul.

May it reach into the places of sorrow,

Touch the suffering,

Bring hope to the hopeless.

May it connect you with life

As the darkness within you falls away.

 

May God’s light lift you

when you fall – because you will.

May it take your arm

in your frailty,

and hold you.

Until all around you, and within,

Is love.

Love, love, love.

 

Photo by Casper Rae on Unsplash

 

Musing#8: Love is everywhere: Love is mystery

There are three pictures of Love that I find helpful.

The first is Love as water.  The nature of water: the way that it flows; the way that it can reach into the smallest of places; the way it is absorbed.  That reminds me of Love.  Jesus talks of a spring of water that is inside us – that gushes up and brings life and joy.  And then there is the image of the water in the marshes – it rises up from the ground unseen, but when we switch on our awareness to it we find that it is growing and doing its work.

The second is Love as light.  Light helps people to see.  The smallest light in a dark place will have an impact: the blindness the dark brings is broken as grey edges are revealed.  Light brings clarity, warmth and comfort. That reminds me of Love.  And then there is the way that light reveals beauty: whether it be in the sunrise; as it shines through a stained-glass window; as it brings the colour in the natural world alive. 

The third is Love as breath.  The very air we breathe.  Keeping us alive and enabling us to do all that we do.  There are times when we find ourselves literally gasping for air.  There are other times when the gentle rhythm of breathing can lull us into a spiritual moment: from the sleeping child, to the ‘dying’ breaths of a loved one.  That reminds me of Love.  Jesus appeared to his followers and breathed on them, saying, “peace be with you”.  Our breath can teach us about Love.

Then one day, musing on these pictures of Love, a realisation.  How had I not thought of this before? Love is so much bigger, so much more present, than these pictures can portray, because…

Love is not only found in water but also in the desert; in the parched places.  In the book of Genesis we find the story of Hagar who runs away to the wilderness where there is no water.  In this place Love finds Hagar: sees her, recognises her and sustains her.  In our ‘desert places’ Love finds us: sees us; recognises us and sustains us.  She finds us where there is no water to refresh us and gives us what we need.

Love is not only found in light but also in darkness.  Darkness is often used as a metaphor for times when Love seems absent.  These times can feel ‘dark’: it can be difficult to see the way forward. Things come crashing down on us and we feel alone.  The writer of Psalm 40 describes this as being in a pit. But Love is present in this darkness – in the pit: she has not gone anywhere.

And – this is a gut feeling – Love is not only found in breath but in the lack of it.  Something in me feels sure that in the literal nothingness of a vacuum we will find the essence of Love.  And when our loved one takes their final breath, that is not only the end of something but also a beginning: a step into something new.  Love is there in her own absence.

And so these words in Psalm 139 make complete sense:

Where can I go from your spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

And the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you;

The night will shine like day,

For darkness is as light to you.

Love is everywhere and in everything.  That is what Love longs for us to know, so that she can reach out to us and into us.

Then another question; another realisation.

Is Love the water? No.  Is she the light or the breath? No.  Is she the desert, the darkness or the nothingness? No, no, no.

All these are metaphor.  They help us to understand and perceive Love, yet Love is beyond our understanding and our ability to perceive.  We get snatches; we catch glimpses, but Love is mystery.  She stays beyond our control; outside of our boxes; free from taglines and soundbites.  Closer to us than we are to ourselves; infinite and infinitesimal; beckoning to us in silence.

Love is the mystery that holds us, and whose only requirement of us is that we let ourselves be held.

Photo by Karolina Kolodziejczak on Unsplash

 

Musing#8: God is everywhere: God is mystery

There are three pictures of God that I find helpful.

The first is God as water.  The nature of water: the way that it flows; the way that it can reach into the smallest of places; the way it is absorbed.  That reminds me of God.  Jesus talks of a spring of water that is inside us – that gushes up and brings life and joy.  And then there is the image of the water in the marshes – it rises up from the ground unseen, but when we switch on our awareness to it we find that it is growing and doing its work.

The second is God as light.  Light helps people to see.  The smallest light in a dark place will have an impact: the blindness the dark brings is broken as grey edges are revealed.  Light brings clarity, warmth and comfort. That reminds me of God.  And then there is the way that light reveals beauty: whether it be in the sunrise; as it shines through a stained-glass window; as it brings the colour in the natural world alive. 

The third is God as breath.  The very air we breathe.  Keeping us alive and enabling us to do all that we do.  There are times when we find ourselves literally gasping for air.  There are other times when the gentle rhythm of breathing can lull us into a spiritual moment: from the sleeping child, to the ‘dying’ breaths of a loved one.  That reminds me of God.  Jesus appeared to his followers and breathed on them, saying, “peace be with you”.  Our breath can teach us about God.

Then one day, musing on these pictures of God, a realisation.  How had I not thought of this before. God is so much bigger, so much more present, than these pictures can portray, because…

God is not only found in water but also in the desert; in the parched places.  In the book of Genesis we find the story of Hagar who runs away to the wilderness where there is no water.  In this place God finds Hagar: sees her, recognises her and sustains her.  In our ‘desert places’ God finds us: sees us; recognises us and sustains us.  He finds us where there is no water to refresh us and gives us what we need.

God is not only found in light but also in darkness.  Darkness is often used as a metaphor for times when God seems absent.  These times can feel ‘dark’: it can be difficult to see the way forward. Things come crashing down on us and we feel alone.  The writer of Psalm 40 describes this as being in a pit. But God is present in this darkness – in the pit: he has not gone anywhere.

And – this is a gut feeling – God is not only found in breath but in the lack of it.  Something in me feels sure that in the literal nothingness of a vacuum we will find the essence of God.  And when our loved one takes their final breath, that is not only the end of something but also a beginning: a step into something new.  God is there in his own absence.

And so these words in Psalm 139 make complete sense:

Where can I go from your spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

And the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you;

The night will shine like the day,

For darkness is as light to you.

God is everywhere and in everything.  That is what God longs for us to know, so that he can reach out to us and into us.

Then another question; another realisation.

Is God the water? No.  Is he the light or the breath? No.  Is he the desert, the darkness or the nothingness? No, no, no.

All these are metaphor.  They help us to understand and perceive God, yet God is beyond our understanding and our ability to perceive.  We get snatches; we catch glimpses, but God is mystery.  He stays beyond our control; outside of our boxes; free from taglines and soundbites.  Closer to us than we are to ourselves; infinite and infinitesimal; beckoning to us in silence.  Metaphors help but they are not Love.

God is the mystery that holds us, and whose only requirement of us is that we let ourselves be held.

 

Photo by Karolina Kolodziejzczak on Unsplash

All is Well: A Journey in Contemplation

f  Pilgrim

I have never been on a pilgrimage, and yet I am a pilgrim.  A pilgrim on the journey of life. 

A pilgrim is a person who makes a long journey to a sacred place.  The long journey is my life – to be truthful I do not know how long or short it will be - each day is another step on the path.  The sacred place is, maybe, not a ‘place’.  I am seeking the divine and the sacred, which is all around me and within, if only I can open my eyes and see.  Another image of this pilgrimage is ‘waking up’ – life’s journey draws me out of my slumber so that I can connect with the divine.  See the real reality.

What does this spiritual journey look like? Like a physical journey it can move at different speeds.  There will be days when we will be encouraged by our progress; when we feel we have come far.  Equally there will be days when, even though we are trying, we seem to make no progress at all.  There will be the days when we go backwards or need to return to a place and pick up something we left there or leave something that belongs there.  It is not a straight line from A to B!  The spiritual journey involves learning, and it involves ‘un-learning’ – we need to be open to new ideas and recognise the beliefs and ideas that stop us from moving forwards.   There will be times of rest: times when we need to stop and evaluate; times when we simply need to stop and be.  This rest can be significant – it can give us a sense of the divine and help us to discern the direction we are being drawn to.  As with a physical journey there will be uphill climbs in treacherous weather, and there will be flat, wide open plains with the sun on our backs.  Life as a pilgrim will have its ups and downs – its blissful days and its days when we just want to give up.

When we want to give up, where do we go?  Maybe we go back home. And yet isn’t home where we are headed? Our pilgrim journey through life is a forward, progressive journey, that takes us back to where we started.  It takes us back to God: back to the Love that brought us into being.  In many ways it is not helpful to think of the destination.  When we have a destination in mind we start measuring – how far have I come? Or, how long until I get there? These questions feed our egos - our own sense of achievement.  These questions can impede our journey.

Our pilgrim journey is one in which we need to lose our sense of self and our desire to measure.  As Richard Rohr says, it is about ‘awakening, not accomplishing.  You can not get there, you can only be there’¹. We are on a journey and yet we have already arrived at our destination.  Our pilgrimage is taking us deeper into God, and deeper into our souls – that is where we will find what is truly precious.

In this pilgrimage I accompanied by many: I am accompanied by you.   It is an intimate journey and yet it is shared with so many; not only across the planet but across history.  We are all pilgrims on this same journey – we can learn from pilgrims who have come before us and we can learn from each other.

It is so important that we learn from each other.  One way in which my eyes have been opened is in recognising that I can learn from every person I meet.  Each person I have contact with, no matter how limited, has the potential to open up new insights, or to rub off one of my harsh corners, or to teach me about the things inside of myself that I would rather not face.  When I open myself up to another human soul - when I let myself be touched - I am opening myself up to the God who is love and I am letting Love touch me.  It doesn’t always feel like love – I am far from perfect and some people evoke negative feelings in me.  It is also important to acknowledge that some relationships are not healthy: they are harmful.  Yet, without putting ourselves in further harm, can we still open up our souls to what we can learn?  When we open up our souls to those who have hurt us can we find forgiveness?  And through forgiveness God’s healing mercy, compassion and kindness. When we allow this to happen we become a little more like Love.  We make ‘progress’ on our journey.

I am humbled when I think back and remember the experiences I have had in life and the amazing people I have had the privilege to know; even the privilege to call friends.  Friendships flourish when we have the courage to open up to each other and learn from each other.  As I have got older I see that even those whom I have not counted friends, have had an impact on me, have been a part of my journey, and they are also due my thanks.

As intimate and individual as this pilgrimage of mine is, I know that it is intrinsically linked to your pilgrimage and that of humanity.  However deep and wide I dig into my soul, I know that it is part of a bigger soul that belongs to the whole of humanity and is ultimately found in God.  We are all in this together.  We are all pilgrims.