Walking

December 26, 2019

For the merest of moments, Christmas gave us a reprieve from the unending political drama that’s been playing out in Washington for the past three years. I’m not naïve enough to imagine that the warring sides have come to any semblance of peace, but with multiple worship services, gatherings, and family celebrations, I’ve been too preoccupied to pay attention to any of it. It’s been rather nice, actually. Listening to the commentators (there aren’t any actual reporters anymore—they’re all commentators), no matter which side you take, the world is coming to an end if the other side wins.

It won’t, of course. It might get plenty worse, but it’s not the end. Not yet. Jesus told us there would be wars and rumors of wars, that nation would rise against nation. The Bible tells us that people will have itching ears to hear only that which they want to hear. They will call good evil and evil good. People will betray one another. Poverty, violence, injustice will abound. Nothing new here. It’s not much different than when Jesus was born. But that night, a Light came into the world, and St. John says, “the darkness cannot overcome it.” We thread our way through that darkness by the glow of that Light, one step at a time. It’s not a searchlight that floods the way with a blinding brightness. The Light doesn’t illuminate the last steps we take; instead, he told us that even he didn’t know the day nor hour of his appearing. Instead, we walk...sometimes haltingly, sometimes confidently. 

Occasionally, we run the race, and at other times, it’s all we can do merely to stand. But mostly, we walk, step by step, one foot after the other. And while walking, we pay little attention to all the voices clamoring in our ears from the sidelines, promising success, happiness, wealth, fame, or safety if we just follow their siren call. But the Spirit whispers in our hearts, “if anyone will come after Me, let him take up his cross and follow Me,” and we shoulder that cross once more, shifting its weight and haltingly lift a foot and start out, guided by the light of his Word and the Light of the Holy Spirit. If we stumble, he is there to catch us and set us on our way. 

Through pleasant valleys, rock-strewn paths in the desert, up narrow mountain trails, and thickets that threaten to hide the way. We walk, and I am thankful tonight for tomorrow’s strength, grace, and wisdom. Tonight we rest. Tomorrow, we walk!