Out of the Darkness

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The heart that broke for all the broken-hearted
Is whole and Heaven-centred now, and sings,
Sings in the strength that rises out of weakness,
Sings through the clouds
that veil him from our sight,
Whilst we ourselves become his clouds of witness
And sing the waning darkness into light . . .

– Excerpt from “A Sonnet for Ascension Day” by poet Malcolm Guite

Out of the bombing in Manchester emerge brokenhearted families — mothers, fathers, grandparents, children. We live in a brokenhearted world. We wonder what we might do with our broken hearts. Do we respond with anger, sorrow, disinterest? Do we chalk it up as just another tragedy that is inevitable in a world of terrorism and unbridled violence? How must we respond in a way that honors our faith in the Prince of Peace?

I certainly do not have answers to all the questions we may be asking in the face of this tragedy, but these things I know. We must stand firmly, always, for peace. We must speak boldly when our words might ease violence. We must pray without ceasing for a world without violence, and hope constantly for a world that is gentle and hospitable for every person.

Finally, as poet Malcolm Guite writes, we must raise our voices in the strength that comes after weakness. We must sing on, people of God, for our songs might just help bring the world out of darkness into God’s wondrous light!

. . . You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

– 1 Peter 2:9, NIV

Forged from Light and Fire

 

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Like most people, I have experienced sorrow. At times, I have felt sorrow bury into my soul so deeply that I felt as if I could not move beyond it. And I have experienced the shattering of my heart. Such times are inevitable in the cycle of life. Eventually the pain refines us and leaves us stronger than before.

We have critical choices along the way. We could choose to remain in despair. We could choose to let the past pain define our future. We could move ahead taking regret along with us. Or we could dare to dream of hope. We could walk once more in the light of healing. We could open our hearts to a brighter future, leaving the pain of the past behind.

We could take the wise and hope-filled advice of Bishop Steven Charleston.

Let the longing night alone, as shadows recede before the brightening sun, for what has past still sleeps, and will always sleep, in a land too distant for you to return. Leave sorrow beside the door, resting in a corner quietly, and step over the threshold of regret, to walk once more beneath an open sky. Today is the future you have made, a world waiting for you to define it, as honest in expectation as your own hope, as real as you dare to dream it. You were not fashioned from despair, but forged from light and fire, crafted to breathe mountain air, a child of such a long line, even angels cannot name it.

I, for one, choose to lean into a living hope, a hope that is beyond any pain and greater than any grief. Yes, I am forged from light and fire, graced by God to endure and persevere. Thanks be to God.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials.

1 Peter 1:3-6, New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

 

My Dance

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I love the lyrics of the song sung by Garth Brooks, “The Dance.”

“Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain
But I’d of had to miss the dance.”

Yes, life is fraught with pain, but we take it along with the joy. The two go together, are inseparable. And if you choose to avoid the pain, you will miss the dance. Joy and sorrow come together, and those who know the greatest joy are those who also knew great sorrow.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

The dance is filled with both joy and sorrow. Bishop Charleston describes the dance:

The dance is not over, even if the night grows long, even if others have left the floor, for as long as the band plays on, as long as music fills the air, the spirit within me will move, move in time to the sounds of life, to the rhythms of change. I age but I do not grow old. My dance goes on, and when I have no ground beneath me, I will dance on air.

Stronger than My Sadness

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I am stronger than my sadness. Because of that, I don’t dread sadness so much anymore. I just take it in as a part of living. Some days for me are just sad days. Yesterday was one of those days – Mother’s Day – and I spent it without my child or my grandchildren. So I figure it was most appropriate to feel sad.

I have learned, though, that sadness passes and brighter days are just around the next bend. That reality keeps me going and reminds me that I can take whatever comes in this thing we call life. Life brings all sorts of emotions, happiness, joy, pride, elation, peace, excitement, and yes, sadness too.

I love the poetry of Khalil Gibran who wrote “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

 

And when I am sorrowful, I always return to Gibran’s writing on joy and sorrow:

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

And that’s that! I am stronger than my sadness.

Gentle Hands

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Sadness and sorrow . . . frequent companions. There is no escape from times of sadness in this life. We feel like victims of sad times that are difficult to navigate. Sorrow assails us at times, unrelenting in its sway over us. Yet, we do not have to let sorrow have its way. We have the resilience to overcome our days of sadness. Most importantly, we have a God who is always with us as we suffer. I have pondered this quote and allowed the words to penetrate my spirit.

We are not alone in our sadness or our sorrow. There is a quiet spirit that shares our deep emotion, aware of our feelings, our hopes too fragile to even acknowledge for fear they will disappear like smoke, our longings held tightly in the silence of our worry. We are not alone, for a presence stands beside us, there, if only we will trust it, reaching out in whispers eloquent of a love that will never leave us, no matter how hard the path ahead. We are not alone, and never will be, for the one who gave us life holds that life, in hands as gentle as they are strong. – Steven Charleston

I am content to rest in those strong, gentle hands, knowing I am not alone, knowing that God’s love will never leave me. When I am in the silence of my worry, I am confident of the hands that hold me close. Thanks be to God.