by Donna Chacko
On this last day of what has been a torturous 2020, let each of us ask: how we can make 2021 better for ourselves and others? I’m convinced that taking the time to ask and answer this question is the first step toward achieving the goal—and, New Year’s Eve is the perfect time to do this.
Cultivating gratitude is one of the most powerful things you can do to make 2021 better. Intentionally shine a bright light of gratitude on your life and then look around. Do you see some blessings that you take for granted? This might be big things like your faith, your family, or your health. Or it could be little blessings of every day life, like your morning coffee, a comfortable chair, a special song, or a baby’s giggle. During this year of altered routines, I noticed I was surprisingly grateful for little things, like my rose blooms or the black Labrador puppy next door. Amidst all the loss, pain, and division, there is always something to be grateful for—even if the one thing is your God who never wavers.
Finding blessings is probably more challenging for those of you who are grieving or overwhelmed with job loss, unbearable financial insecurity, or sickness. I pray every day for your well-being and hope that others who are both blessed and grateful will share their blessings with you. In the meantime, please try to draw close to God for comfort and guidance.
https://pixabay.com/photos/sax-player-jazz-new-york-music-776800/
When the renowned 20th century saxophonist, John Coltrane, shone the light of gratitude on his life, something sacred and mysterious happened. The words of a gratitude prayer sprung from his mind, but the expression of this prayer flowed from his saxophone. He played his prayer, one holy note at a time, in the song Psalm, part of his 1965 album, Love Supreme. Psalm is Coltrane’s heartfelt declaration of faith and gratitude to God after his long struggle with addiction. Coltrane wrote the words to his prayer on a piece of paper, placed that paper on his music stand, picked up his saxophone, and spontaneously played the words on his instrument. It ends with: “Thank you God. Elation. Elegance. Exaltation. All from God. Thank you God. Amen.”
I encourage you to prayerfully listen to Coltrane’s soulful music while simultaneously scrolling through his handwritten lines of prayer. When I did this, I was moved to tears. Through his timeless music, Coltrane shines his gratitude on all who ever listen to his song. He most definitely is letting his light shine in a way that can illumine a better path for us in 2021.
Our world really needs all of us to let our lights shine. Recharge your batteries with prayer. Then reflect on and express your gratitude for what is good and beautiful in your life, no matter how small. Your gratitude will shine a much needed light on our hurting world. You may not reach as many people as Coltrane with the light of your gratitude, but you will feel better and so will those around you. It is a gift that keeps on giving.
“Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.”
William Arthur Ward
Happy New Year to the Godspace family and special thanks to Christine Sine and her staff. It is a privilege to write in this space. To see more of what I write about health and faith and to receive “Three Keys to a Holy, Happy and Health Life, go to serenityandhealth.com/subscribe.
God bless each of you.
Donna
The lantern wound its way up the hill, three figures hunched around its meagre light. One of the shepherds held something swaddled tight in his fleece jacket, along with the warm stones they’d brought from around their campfire. They were good to stop your hands freezing in the dead of night.
The dark seemed deeper than usual, despite the star being bright, the skies now bereft of the chorus they’d just seen. Was it only an hour since? And the reverberations of that great light echoing out still on their retinae, as it might do always. No-one witnesses something that holy without scarring.
The little lamb might make it, might not. The shepherd rubbed its cold body as they hurried onwards, fearful of being too late. It was the nearest a man could get to being a mother, holding that small body that might live or die in his coat. Willing it to warm up and breathe. Carrying the possibility of life or death and the not-knowing.
The streams of silver light touched the roof of the small house, and they looked at one another before knocking on the door. As it opened, they recognised the same golden glow that had shone out of heaven onto their unspectacular fields, light catching like wool on the thorn bushes. Every ordinary thing was aflame with the sacred tonight. And then they saw him.
The dried blood on the newborn didn’t faze them, they were used to such things. Nor did his raucous cries, full of life, nor the loving gaze of his parents as they carefully washed him and wrapped him in warmth. What held them dumbstruck was the light, the presence in the room of something so softly alive and full of grace that they unconsciously held their breath in awe.
They fell to their knees, all three, setting the lantern down carefully away from the straw. Eventually something more was needed, but they felt words would be inadequate somehow, so just kept their heads bent when they could tear their eyes away from him, this new, tiny King of All. And then there was a strange bleating sound.
The little lamb wrestled and kicked from within its confines and the shepherd had no choice but to let it go free in the small room. They watched amazed as the small creature, so perfect and new, bounded amongst Joseph and his family, making everyone laugh, nudging the two oxen and the ass stood calmly by their mangers.
A dark possibility arrested the shepherd’s thoughts. That they might mistake the lamb for a sacrificial gift. Seeing it now, dancing in the glow of love, the baby gurgling quietly, he had to speak.
“Please, don’t kill it,” he blurted.
The holy mother smiled.
“We won’t.”
“Every lamb of God is welcome here and safe,” said Joseph.
The lantern wound its way back down the hillside a little later, swinging carefree. Three figures walked beside it, free of burdens, a lightness in their steps and a new joy blazing in their hearts.
by Carol Dixon
Do you have a favourite book? One you return to time and time again? And what about your favourite book in the Bible? For me the answer has to be the Gospel of John with its wonderful themes of light and truth. In the last verses it says: I am that disciple who witnessed these things! I recorded these events here so we know that they are accurate. I suppose that if all the events in Jesus life were written the whole world could hardly contain all the books. (John 21: 24-25, New Living Bible paraphrase).
Although I love many parts of the other gospels, John’s gospel remains a favourite of mine as it seems so permeated by love. I have recently enjoyed watching it on YouTube where it is brought to life on film with the actors using the actual words from the Bible and seeing it portrayed visually has given me a different perspective on it which set me thinking about the author who is credited with being the inspiration behind the gospel that bears his name, whether he wrote it in person or not.
As far as we can tell from church history John was one of the most influential figures in the early church. According to church tradition he was the beloved disciple mentioned in John’s gospel. Along with Andrew he was the other follower of John the Baptist who was invited by Jesus into his home at the beginning of the gospel & with his brother James he left their father Zebedee’s fishing business to answer the call of Jesus. (Jesus’ nickname for these two firebrands was ‘Sons of Thunder’.). It was John who leaned close to Jesus at the last supper and it was to him that Jesus entrusted the care of his mother, Mary as he died on the Cross.
Photo by Kerstin Riemer
Patmos, a small rocky island 10miles long & 6 miles wide
In later life, John became Bishop of Ephesus and is credited with writing the book of Revelation. Under the rule of the Emperor Domitian who persecuted the Christians, John was banished to the Greek island, Patmos where many were sent to work as slave labour in the mines. Prisoners who were too old to work were left to roam around foraging for their food or face starvation and it would have been difficult to communicate with one another in this kind of isolation, confined to a particular area and not allowed to leave.
As we come towards the end of a year that seems to have been dominated by lockdown and all kinds of diminishing restrictions I thought of John towards the end of his life living on this small island, cut off from friends & fellow Christians, wondering how he could continue his ministry in exile. The following imaginative reflection describes how he might have felt.
Revelation
I never imagined I’d stay here so long on the island – or that I’d live for such a length of time. I always thought I’d end my days like James, or Paul, or Peter, martyrs to the cause. And yet, I’m happy here. Content with my lot, you might say.
I know every stone, every blade of grass, here on Patmos, each tree and bush but I’m never bored. The ever-changing sky, the sea in all its different moods, the ethereal morning mist, and the glorious quality of evening light still captivate me as they did the first day I was sent here, so many years ago.
I’ve heard the Angel speaking, telling me what to write to the Churches, sharing my Revelations with those who have ears to hear – words of comfort to encourage them, and words of condemnation, berating them for their infidelity (not for nothing were my brother and I nicknamed ‘Sons of Thunder’ in our youth).
I’ve had plenty of time to recall my life. So many emperors and earth-shattering events: towns swallowed by mountains of erupting ash; the holy city of Jerusalem raised to the ground, the Temple sacked, just as Jesus predicted.
Above all, I’ve had the space to reflect on Him, my beloved friend, teacher and Lord; to write down some of our adventures together with God, when I learned in my teens to look at life in new ways.
It is easier now since the lad came– my namesake, scribe and companion. I ramble on; he puts it in order and writes it all down. But every story needs a good end and an even better beginning. Here, lad, sharpen your stylus and we’ll make a start:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…….
———————————-
Feature photo of St John Lindisfarne gospels: Copyright: The British Library Board 2000
by Christine Sine
It’s the 4th day of Christmas and for many of us, it is as though the season is already behind us. I love seeing Christmas as a season rather than a day, and thoroughly enjoy celebrating the 12 days of Christmas. This year I am finding particular joy in exploring the different moods of the season. And Christmas is a season of many moods – of intense joy and celebration, of despair and disbelief, of dreaming and hoping. All of these are woven together in cords of love and life poured out by a compassionate God who we remember at this season as the one who reached down and entered human history in an amazing way.
Christmas contemplative garden
During Advent, I focused on those who surround Mary and Jesus and found myself entering the story of a very human, young woman living a perilous life at the fringes of the Roman Empire. Now my focus has shifted. It all began with my rearranging of my sacred space with a Christmas theme rather than Advent, but it has been much more than that. Aided by a beautiful book of 40 full-colour images of Western art: The Art of Advent by Jane Williams, I am taking a journey towards Epiphany, with an expanding and stunningly hope-filled view of the God of the cosmos.
Nativity by He Qi
I am particularly drawn to He Qi’s Nativity, one of my favourite Christmas paintings, but to be honest, I have never taken the time to explore it in depth. I little like the way I once celebrated Christmas. Jane Williams invites me to do so. Her comment that this nativity scene “shows both the sweet simplicity and the dazzling complexity of what we celebrate at Christmas” stopped me in my tracks. I feel I have spent Advent looking at the simplicity and now God is inviting me to explore some of the complexities.
The geometric lines create a sense of turbulence as worlds collide around this birth”, she explains. “Some of the waves seem to be creating waves of joy: the sheep, for example, seem to be dancing to a music that only they can hear.” The rejoicing of the cosmos, hope for a world transformed and a creation renewed. I drink in the wonder of it and sit in awe of what the birth of this child means not just for me, not just for humankind, but for the whole of God’s creation.
“This one act of God redefines so much”, Williams says. Even Godself is redefined, “God who is, by definition, beyond human knowledge, comes to be God with us, Emmanuel.” We still have trouble getting our heads around that and often try to push God away into a distant heavenly realm disconnected from this earth. We want to hide, just as Adam and Eve hid in the Garden. But God is indeed with us in ways that it is hard for us to comprehend.
“This act of God redefines power. It takes all the might of the creator of the universe to enter into creation and become the opposite of God. It takes shocking force to absorb hatred and violence and death and turn it into love, peace and life.” Wow, wow and wow again. What a message of hope for today. God with us – almost impossible to believe as we look at all that is happening around us.
“Nothing that will happen as God lives with us will make God’s nature change. God will remain loving, creative, living, renewing through all of life and into death, so that we can be sure that God is with us, always, everywhere, bringing new life, new hope, new possibilities. God with us means that our possibilities, our hopes and fears, are not the limits of what can be. God redefines what is possible, as only God who makes all possibilities can. If God is with us then so is life and hope. Perhaps the strange lines that intersect across He Qi’s nativity scene are the signs of the movement of God, restoring the world. (The Art of Advent, Jane Williams 100,101)
Book covers
I am also reading Bruce Epperly’s The Work of Christmas: The 12 Days of Christmas with Howard Thurman, a book that invites us to be light-bearers carrying the message of Divine justice and hope, making it come alive even in the darkest corners of the world. Epperly explains that the story of Christmas emerges out of the darkness:
The darkness of Mary’s womb, the darkness of bleak midwinter, the darkness of powerlessness and poverty, and the darkness of Roman occupation. In such as situation, it is difficult to believe that anything good can be born or that a child will survive the cruelty of despotic hatred. Yet, the story of this child’s birth witnesses to light in the darkness and hope in a time of fear. The light of the world shines most brightly on the darkest night. In the moist darkness of the earth, a seed germinates, holding within itself the promise of a harvest to come. (The Work of Christmas 20, 21)
Epperly goes on to say:
Thurman is a particularly appropriate interpreter of the message of hope that emerges out of darkness. Born in the South in 1899, Thurman, like the Christ Child, experienced the trauma of prejudice throughout his life. … Emmanuel, God with us, is the message of Christmas in the darkness of our own times, when our nation is polarized and people fear the future. (The Work of Christmas 21)
Emmanuel – God with us now and through all eternity. So hard to believe even as we celebrate it, especially in a world as chaotic as ours. Take some time today to explore He Qi’s painting. If you can, set aside at least 30 minutes for a visio divina examination of its simplicity and its complexity. What places and situations make it hard for you to believe that God is with you today?
Now read through Howard Thurman’s poem
“The Work of Christmas”
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.
in The Mood of Christmas & Other Celebrations (1985)
Prayerfully consider how God might ask you to respond.
NOTE: As an Amazon Affiliate, I receive a small amount for purchases made through appropriate links above. Thank you for supporting Godspace in this way.
Maranatha, enough.
Come Lord Jesus, come.
I am too aware
of what it is we should feel
at this time of Christmas dawning.
But at most the plea,
‘maranatha’
comes out in a whisper drawn,
‘And the people in the darkness
will see a great light,
on those in the dark,
a great light is falling.’
Oh, how we know what it is
that we’re meant to see,
at this time of Christmas appearing.
But for some the dark is a solid pall,
a shadow bearing down,
that the light is just a figment of imagination,
a bittersweet remembrance,
and a lost taste
left on the tongue.
Maranatha, enough now,
we have had more than we can bear
of suffering.
That like the virgin on a bed of straw,
we push and push to rid ourselves of
travail.
Come Lord Jesus,
become more real to us
than the night falling.
Be like the babe hidden
in a dark passage,
impelled to enter the world.
Show us what it means to be
with us hidden,
that we can turn the light on in the dark.
We don’t believe we
cannot see you here yet,
‘I would have fainted unless I had believed’.
‘Maranatha’
Burst into our world,
with your brightening dawn.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.’
Isaiah 9:2I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.’
Psalm 27:13-14
Check out another post for this morning A Litany For the Blessing of Light by Lynn Domina
by Lynn Domina
For our sun, a warm golden globe brightening our days,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For our moon, silvery and bright, lighting our way through the night,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For every star and constellation, for the stories they help us tell,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For campfires and fireplaces, for kindling and split logs and all burning wood,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For candles that flicker on our tables, for their warmth and aroma,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For incandescence and fluorescence, for halogen and LED,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For scientists who can explain what light is,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For inventors who help us bring more light to our lives,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For storytellers who help us communicate light’s full meaning,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For those dark times when light seems absent from our lives,
We thank you, God, for your creation.
For every new day, for our faith, for its assurance that dawn is coming,
We thank you, God, for creating a world bathed in light
and calling us to be people who walk in your great light.
Amen.
For most of us Christmas Day is almost over and I think that this is a good time to take a quiet break and listen to a contemplative service. I found this particularly restful and restorative today. Enjoy!
A Contemplative Christmas is produced by St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Seattle.
Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers. Video production, Richard Weyls.
Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756 with additional notes below.
“I Wonder as I Wander” (1933) – is an American folk hymn by John Jacob Niles. Text is shared under the Creative Commons attribution “Share Alike” license. The hymn tune is in the public domain.
“Silent Night” (1818) – hymn and text are in the public domain.
“O Star” – song written by Kester Limner, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY).
“Litany for December 25, 2020 (The Lord is My Light)” – prayer text by Kester Limner, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY). Music copyright and all rights reserved by GIA/Les Presses de Taizé.
“O Holy Night” (1847) – hymn text and tune are in the public domain.
As an Amazon Associate, I receive a small amount for purchases made through appropriate links.
Thank you for supporting Godspace in this way.
When referencing or quoting Godspace Light, please be sure to include the Author (Christine Sine unless otherwise noted), the Title of the article or resource, the Source link where appropriate, and ©Godspacelight.com. Thank you!