electric guitar, our voices shimmied upward through the
Sanctuarys ceiling dome the first Saturday night we
gathered to celebrate the fledgling Contemporary
Communion Service. But if lifting our voices in song was
memorable, it was the blazing light that blinded our eyes
as we approached the altar to receive the Eucharistic
meal that flooded those words which we had just sung with
we gaze on Your kingly brightness,
so our faces display Your lightness....
Shine on me. Shine on me.
Did you see it?
Did you sense it? Did it speak to you?
It was just after
5 pm on a crisp fall Saturday evening in early October.
The sun, low on the horizon, flooded through the
Apostles stained glass window at Peace, blinding
anyone bold enough to look at it. Its piercing light,
magnified a thousandfold, streaked through the western
window exploding into rainbows all over the church. And
if you opened yourself to the message it ignited, you
might have felt the force of its truth in the tug of your
heartstrings. You might have been blinded by its power.
Blinded by the sheer message of it. It was a blazing
Some would call it
merely an aggravation and protect their sight from its
brightness, holding up a hand to visor their eyes. Others
would scarcely notice the increase in lumens, too busy
looking down, following the service in the bulletin, to
see what was happening around them. But surely some
sensed the presence of the Son who shatters our souls
into a thousand pieces as his radiance proclaims holy
ground and his light reaches through the depths of our
senses to flame in our hearts.
theres a logical explanation of it. Certainly the
scientist among us could speak of the earths
rotation and axis, apogee and perigee, coupled with
impressive statistics of timing, place and event. And who
could deny the luck of a clear sky or landscaping not yet
overgrown by leafy trees or modern buildings blocking the
setting sun cascading through the window?
as this light was, we would not have noticed it had not
the radiance around us ignited our hearts. We shone, not
with our own light, but with the light of the one whose
song we sing.
For we are the
shadow casters, you and I. What we do, what we believe,
even what we think casts shadows all around us. And these
shadows are long, often probing places we knew not
existed nor believed it possible to influence. Sometimes
the shadows we cast bring solace to another or even
comfort to ourselves, and we are blessed by them. But we
are shadow keepers also. We look to each other hoping to
find shelter, rest, care and love in the wings of the
shadows others cast around us. And sometimes we hide,
holed up in a shadow where we hope not to be noticed,
looking only to lick our wounds in private. And the light
shifts reminding us that our shadows exist only through
the light which our Heavenly Father casts, and we are
merely reflections of it.
As I sat in the
second pew on the left and looked around at my brothers
and sisters in Christ, I caught a few eyes. A few
reciprocated my smile. One or two were so engrossed in
singing with all their might that their eyes closed with
the effort. Some merely mouthed the words, hoping that no
one would hear a monotone drawl instead of a lyrical
song. The children wriggled in their seats, their minds
and bodies responding in ways that their parents only
wished might happen in theirs. The music became them,
freeing them to another place where boundaries dont
exist but imagination does. And the light continued to
shine and cast shadows where none had been before.
But the light spun
through us all, causing the music of our souls to dance
where our feet stood stock still. The bush burned bright
in our presence. And caused holy ground.