Light is our life source. We have artificial light we rely on as the sun sets. You can see the lights coming on below as the sun makes its exit for the day. But that only works as long as we have electricity. Remember the last time yours went out? The darkness was unsettling and if you are like me, you pulled out candles and lit them {after you found the matches in the junk drawer}. You check the battery on your phone – again a little unsettled by the thought of not being able to charge it – and wondered what in the world you should do next. You know – without tv or internet. The thing is – when our life giving light source is Jesus – we never have to worry or panic about it going out. He is with us and in us for eternity. Consider carefully His love for you, me and everyone in the world around us and rely deeply on Him. His Light is forever.
In the eastern part of St Bernard Parish where every inch of land was covered by water when the levees broke after Katrina, today’s view has the most beautiful way of reminding us she was indeed here. A huge presence in our history, both personal and collectively, these trees had been stripped of all life and their roots submerged in saltwater. Even eleven years later in their current dead state, they serve as a reminder of what happened. But what intrigues me most is how they have left a beautiful mark on their landscape. Their remnants are powerfully evident yet still dead. However, the land surrounding them are once again supporting life. Nothing as big and grand as the old cypress trees that once lived there, but this is how it starts – in the small. Just as unexpected storms ravage our hearts and souls, leaving remnants some consider to be ugly and unwanted, let’s instead look at what’s going on in the soil around them. New growth has sprung to life. When we invite God into the healing, amazing things are going to happen. The world might have meant to break us forever, but with God, that brokenness won’t last. With God comes the new. Parts of us we would never have known.
My youngest grandson was born earlier this year. This pic of his hands reminded me – I think most babies are rather tight fisted when they are born. Isn’t it interesting they/we all, come into this world naked and as those fists unclench to reveal nothing inside, we have nothing at all to nourish and care for us. Empty. At every funeral I have ever attended, in death, hands are prepared with great care, folded open one over the other. Yet, also empty. We come into this world screaming and yelling, learning to breathe, gasping for air as the life sustaining oxygen finds its way into our lungs. We leave this world and with it every last tangible success, every experience, every relationship, dollar and possession. . . Hands now open. What will you fill the in between with? Hmmm – looking at my own life which is well past half over, I wonder what I have wasted time and energy on and what has been my greatest success in God’s eyes. We leave behind a body that is empty and void of life. Empty promises. Empty dreams. Empty – do we fear our lives have been or will be wasted? I’ve learned through many years of trying and failing that the only way is God’s way. Filling our emptiness with His nourishment and His protection and His love is the answer to empty. The void. The nothingness. All gone when we choose to follow Jesus.
“Lord, we come before You in this season to celebrate Your anticipated arrival. The world would forever change. You brought us a hope presented in flesh. We see love in a new way as our relationship with You grows deeper and deeper. Thank You Lord.” Amen.