… may there be light

Let’s talk about the wonders and magic of this season… one of my very favourites!

This is our first Christmas here and I’ve noticed all along our long and winding road, these beautiful lights in the windows. They aren’t menorah and they aren’t advent candles, they’re simply light.

Light in the darkness.

(this is the view from my kitchen window. I’m so touched that my new neighbour chooses to share her light with us in this way)

That phrase has been stuck in my mind for a couple of weeks now:

… light in the darkness …

And this year, more than ever before I’m feeling the call, the need, the deep desire to bring light to the darkness.

To be light in the darkness.

To make sure that the people I care about (and that includes you) can see that there is light in the darkness…

… because – oh mama! the darkness can feel so overwhelming and complete.

We are just a few days away from the Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere – the shortest day of the year, and I can feel the darkness.

Pressing in.

Needing to be heard.

Needing to be felt.

Demanding recognition.

Demanding acceptance.

The Solstice is a powerful time, energetically, when a doorway closes and the energy stills. It completes the solar year and in pagan mythology, the Lord of Light is re-born after the longest night as we begin our journey once again to the height of summer’s light.

There are beautiful rituals to celebrate the return of the Light, including the Yule Log –  allowing your fire to burn out overnight and then be re-kindled the next morning to bless and protect your home.

This is the first year that I will have a *real* fire that generates *real* warmth to allow to still and then be re-born. 

You’re probably catching the metaphor, right? In fact, just a few weeks ago, our pastor gave a sermon on how the birth of Christ redeems all of the other spiritual traditions.

On Christmas, we celebrate the birth of the Son (Sun!) and the return of the Light to the world. Yup, it’s not an accident that early Christians decided to celebrate the birth of the Son at the same time as their neighbours were celebrating the birth of the Sun.

There’s this belief in a lot of evangelical minds that goes something like ‘if it ain’t Jesus, it’s the Devil’ and so pagan traditions, and ALL traditions that aren’t Christianity, are seen as being dark and controlled by the Prince of the Air (Satan) instead of the Prince of Peace (Jesus).

I don’t agree… and I’m sure it doesn’t surprise anyone reading this that I take a view that is counter-cultural, but this time I have scripture to back me up. šŸ™‚

In Mark 9:38-41, the disciples return from their adventures out in the world and John (oh, John!) gleefully shares with Jesus how they rebuked a man who was casting out demons but not doing it right, because he wasn’t part of the ‘in’ crowd.

Jesus, as expected, takes a different view of events, and rebukes them for not seeing that ‘whoever is not against us is for us’. Elsewhere, Jesus talks about how he has sheep in many different flocks and he is going to find and reclaim them all.

I believe that humans, all humans, have a yearning for the Divine.

Yes, even the really annoying ones. Even the really broken ones.

There is something in us, some call it a God-spark, that calls out to unification, to join with and bask in and remember in the Light of the Divine.

We want it.

We want to bring in the Light.

(and when we cannot, or will not, surrender and receive the connection to the Divine because of trauma and pride and a million other reasons, we make something else our idol – our self, our children, our money, our job, our car, so many things…)

I believe that all spiritual traditions, in their own way, and in their own cultural contexts – and, yes, we all have strayed from the original path somehow – express this yearning and deep soul- and spirit-level desire.

We all need to believe that there is light in the darkness – that we aren’t alone.

And so, in this season when the darkness is most intense and can feel overwhelming, I wish you Light.

I pray for you that there be light in the darkness, peace in the stillness, and a knee-trembling knowing that you are never alone, always beloved, and created for a purpose… 

… because, dear, sweet, beautiful soul, no matter how unworthy or not good enough or not loveable you feel, the Light yearns for you. It travels to you and meets you where you are and desires nothing less than to wrap you in its arms and love on you until you are full and safe and warm and until you know – know beyond any attempts the deep, dark places of the world may try to convince you of otherwise – that you are loved, so loved and that it is well, even when it feels so far from well.

… may you have light in the darkness …

… may you have peace in the stillness …

… may you know that you are loved and that you are light …