Hello friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in docks,
Welcoming you to day two of our Lenten journey in the wilderness already held,
As we walk through John's Gospel.
As always,
I invite you to make yourself comfortable,
Let your breathing become unforced,
There's nowhere you need to be,
Just here in this moment,
There's nothing you need to solve,
Just allow yourself to rest here,
Right here,
Right now.
And as we begin,
Hear these words from the beginning of John's Gospel,
The true light which enlightens everyone was coming into the world,
And the word became flesh and dwelt among us.
Notice the direction of the movement,
The light isn't described as waiting,
It's not withheld until humanity understands or reserved the spiritually accomplished,
The light comes,
The light moves towards us,
Before there's clarity or repentance,
Or how we learn to name what's broken within us,
God still comes before all those things.
Many of us have quietly learned to believe that we have to prepare ourselves before allowing God to come near,
We imagine that readiness is a doorway,
That once we're calmer or wiser,
Or more prayerful,
Or less divided,
Then perhaps God will draw close,
But the mystery of incarnation speaks very,
Very differently,
The word became flesh,
And this isn't idealized,
And it's not perfected humanity,
This is flesh that gets tired,
Flesh that feels,
Flesh that can be wounded and carry scars,
Even after resurrection.
God enters the very conditions that we often try to hide,
Our confusion,
Our fragility,
Our vulnerability,
Even the wilderness.
Now the wilderness is often misunderstood,
We can imagine it as a place of divine distance,
A landscape where God steps back until we find our way,
Right?
Yet scripture tells a quieter story about wilderness,
Again and again,
The wilderness becomes the meeting place,
And it's often neither dramatic or spectacular,
And there's no big performance and shebang when God meets in those places quite often,
And God draws near without the need to overwhelm us as well,
Like light that arrives at dawn gradually and faithfully,
Until we realize that we're no longer in darkness,
It's like that.
And perhaps today you find yourself in some form of wilderness,
An unanswered question,
A transition you didn't choose,
A tiredness that's settled deep in your bones,
A tenderness that you can't quite explain.
See if you can let this be the place where God is already approaching,
Not waiting at the edge,
Not waiting for you to go to God,
But already coming towards you.
And just for a moment,
Release that instinct to improve yourself,
Release the subtle striving to become more acceptable to God,
Instead allow yourself to be met.
You might gently ask within yourself,
Where am I waiting to be ready before I let God close?
Just let that question rest for a moment.
Then ask,
What part of my life feels unworthy of incarnation?
Maybe there's a room within you that you keep dimly lit,
Hoping that God won't notice.
Just stay gently with whatever surfaces.
And then maybe this question,
Can I receive God's nearness without explanation,
Without needing to understand how it works or why it's given,
But just to simply receive.
And if it helps,
Imagine a soft light moving towards you,
Not a spotlight that's searching for flaws or measuring for progress,
But just a light doing what night naturally does,
Gently arriving,
Touching,
Revealing,
Warming.
You don't have to reach for light,
Light travels.
And this is the surprising humility of God,
The creator who doesn't remain distant from creation,
The holy one who chooses closeness over separation.
The word who dwells,
That word dwells among us,
Literally means to pitch a tent among us,
Or as Eugene Peterson says in the message,
A God who moved into the neighborhood.
This is a word who's content to live within the ordinary terrain of human life,
Including yours.
And notice what happens in your body as you think about this.
Is there a place that softens,
A breath that deepens,
Just stay in that just for a short moment.
Trust begins here.
And no,
This is not about certainty or mastery.
This is trust that begins as a small willingness just to remain open to the possibility that we already are being approached by love.
Relational openness is less about reaching toward God and more about allowing ourselves to be found.
You may not feel luminous today.
You may not feel especially spiritual,
But still the light comes towards you quietly,
Faithfully,
Without hesitation.
Let that be enough.
And so as we close,
Rest in this simple prayer.
God who comes near,
Meet me in the places I've kept hidden.
Teach my heart to trust your movement towards me.
When I'm tempted to withdraw,
Help me remain.
May I learn that I don't have to become someone else in order to be loved.
The light comes.
May I be willing to receive it.
Amen.
Just stay in this moment just for another breath or two.
And when you're ready,
Gently return,
Remembering that wherever you go today,
The light is still coming towards you.
And may grace,
Peace and love continue to carry you in that light today and every day.
Amen.
Until tomorrow,
My friends,
Grace and peace be with you.
