We are still trying to rejuvenate ourselves after an exhausting year of fighting a pandemic that threatens our health, and fighting we experienced from our political leaders threating our Democracy. Whatever has darkened your soul the most, continue to keep the light of Christ in our hearts.
Seeing darkness where one expects to see light reminds us that one of the fundamental needs we have in order to grow is to stay connected to our source of light—Jesus Christ. He is the source of our power, the Light and Life of the World. Without a strong connection to Him, we begin to spiritually die. Knowing that, Satan tries to exploit the worldly pressures we all face. He works to dim our light, short-circuit the connection, cut off the power supply, leaving us alone in the dark. These pressures are common conditions in mortality, but Satan works hard to isolate us and tell us we are the only one experiencing them.
When tragedies overtake us, when life hurts so much we can’t breathe, when we’ve taken a beating like the man on the road to Jericho and been left for dead, Jesus comes along and pours oil into our wounds, lifts us tenderly up, takes us to an inn, looks after us. To those of us in grief, He says, “I will … ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, … that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.” Christ heals wounds.
When expectations overwhelm us, we can step back and ask God what to let go of. Part of our life experience is learning what not to do. But even so, sometimes life can be exhausting. Jesus assures us, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Christ is willing to join with us in the yoke and pull in order to lighten our burdens. Christ is rest.
For various reasons, we don’t feel accepted or acceptable. The New Testament shows the great efforts Jesus made to reach out to all kinds of people: lepers, tax collectors, children, Galileans, harlots, women, Pharisees, sinners, Samaritans, widows, Roman soldiers, adulterers, the ritually unclean. In almost every story, He is reaching someone who wasn’t traditionally accepted in society.
Jesus extends the same kind of invitation to us that He did to Zacchaeus: “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if you hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to you, and will sup with you, and you with me.” Christ sees us in our tree.
Our mortal brains are made to seek understanding and meaning in tidy bundles. I don’t know all the reasons why the veil over mortality is so thick. This is not the stage in our eternal development where we have all answers. It is the stage where we develop our assurance (or sometimes our hope) in the evidence of things not seen. Assurance comes in ways that aren’t always easy to analyze, but there is light in our darkness. Jesus said, “I am the light, and the life, and the truth of the world.” For those seeking truth, it may seem at first to be the foolish claustrophobia of windows made of stone. But with patience and faithful questions, Jesus can transform our windows of stone to glass and light. Christ is light to see. Jesus Christ declares, “My ways [are] higher than your ways,” and the miracle of His grace is that when we repent of our sins, His scarlet blood returns us to purity. It isn’t logical, but it is nevertheless true.
Peace be with you,
