Moving On.

Mark 1: 29-39

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, ‘Everyone is searching for you.’ He answered, ‘Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.’ And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

Many years ago, I was involved in music ministry. The small group I belonged to led the music every Saturday evening and we did it for years. We started to get a little burned out but because there was no other group to take over, we kept going. When we finally got more than a little burned out we decided we just had to let it go and trust God to provide music for the Saturday evening Mass. The thought that kept coming to me was that if we just kept going, no one would realize there was a need for another group and we could very well be blocking a new ministry. But it was still very difficult to tell people we were stepping down. It kind of felt like we were quitters even though we had been doing it Saturday after Saturday for so many years.

We resigned and within a very short period of time, several musical families started a family choir. Parents and children played instruments and led the singing and they were fabulous. They never would have started up if our group hadn't let go and made way for something new to spring up.

In this week's Gospel, Jesus listened for more than what he was supposed to do. He also listened for when and where he should be doing it. He came to Peter's home, healed Peter's mother-in-law and then spent his evening ministering to the people. Word spreads quickly when people are being loved, healed, delivered and forgiven and soon the whole city was gathered in front of Peter's home. The need was huge and he probably ministered to the people until late into the night. There was no one else who could do what he was doing.

Early the next morning, Jesus slipped away to pray. He spoke to Abba and listened to what Abba wanted him to do. He spent time soaking in the beautiful nature of God and listening to his Abba's heart. When the disciples finally found Jesus, they assumed he would continue to do what he had been doing the night before. In fact, everyone assumed that's what he would do. They were all searching for him and waiting for him to get on with the program. But Jesus did not give in to what everyone thought he would do or should do. It had been time to heal in that city and now it was time to move on. There must have been more than a few disappointed people when they heard he was not going to stay. For those who hadn't had the chance to be touched by him it would have been devastating.

That seems kind of hard hearted of God. Surely he could have allowed Jesus to stay a while longer. Or Jesus could have anointed someone else to stay with the people and continue to heal and deliver. Why didn't he do that?

How do we know he didn't? My mind keeps popping back to Peter's mother-in-law. Why mention her in particular when there were so many people who were healed that night? Could it be that besides healing her of a fever, Jesus also placed within her a gracious heart for others who were suffering? Perhaps she not only served Jesus by preparing a meal for him and the disciples but perhaps she spent the evening at his side, tending not only to his needs, but also comforting those who were waiting anxiously or were in pain or grieving or depleted of hope. In receiving Christ's healing touch, perhaps she also received an infusion of his compassion and mercy. Perhaps, as she worked by his side and watched him touching and loving the people, she began to understand where his authority came from and was deeply stirred by the concept of a God who loved people to wholeness and didn't condemn them to misery.

And maybe, just maybe, the next day before he left, Jesus blessed her and said, “Feed my sheep. Tend my flock. I place them in your hands. If you need anything, ask my Father and he will give it to you.” And then he left to bring the good news to other people and to find others who could receive a portion of his authority so they could continue his ministry of love and hope. Maybe they wouldn't be great healers like him but they could keep hope alive and point people toward a loving Father which is the best miracle of all.

It wouldn't have been easy for Jesus to leave when he knew that the hopes of many were pinned on him staying and continuing his healing. He was not a hard man – he was a man who deeply felt the burdens of the people. But over and above the cries of the poor, he always heard the voice of his Father and trusted him completely. As the old spiritual song says, “You gotta move when the Spirit says move.”

I would bet that there's not one person reading this blog who hasn't been caught in the thorny trap of sensing it's time to move along, time to change direction or time to let go of a ministry in the church but has felt bound by the expectations and needs of the community or individual people. It's a very tough place to be. If committed Catholics are anything, they are faithful to what they are committed to. It's terribly difficult when it seems obvious there's no one else to take over or it feels like you're quitting instead of carrying your cross to the end. If you are in this position, remember Jesus rising early, prayerfully listening and hearing his Father telling him to move on. Maybe he, too, wrestled with feeling like he was leaving a work unfinished and people disappointed. But maybe, in his struggle, he heard the the Father speak these words of scripture into his heart: 

Everything has its time, my Son.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.



Do you know what time it is?

As One Having Authority.

Mark 1:21-28

They went into Capernaum; and immediately on the Sabbath. He entered the synagogue and began to teach. They were amazed at His teaching; for He was teaching them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.

Just then there was a man in their synagogue with an unclean spirit; and he cried out, saying, "What business do we have with each other, Jesus of Nazareth? Have You come to destroy us? I know who You are--the Holy One of God!" And Jesus rebuked him, saying, "Be quiet, and come out of him!" Throwing him into convulsions, the unclean spirit cried out with a loud voice and came out of him. They were all amazed, so that they debated among themselves, saying, "What is this? A new teaching with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey Him."

Immediately the news about Him spread everywhere into all the surrounding district of Galilee.

Several years ago I began to realize that I always seemed to be in a self-judgment mode. I would be intensely watching myself and my life closely to see if all my thoughts, actions and responses measured up to the accepted spiritual standards and ideals. Somehow, even inspiration would rapidly turn into law and there I would be trying desperately to make it all work. I would try to grab onto what I thought was my spiritual authority and use it to bring shape and meaning to my inner life. It was exhausting, really. I had not yet learned that the Authority of God is not something that can be apprehended by a force of the intellect or will. We can only be absorbed into it by knowing the Author.

Scribes had a huge amount of authority in the Jewish culture. The scribes were the copyists of Scripture and teachers of the Law. Their functions were to copy, read, amend, explain, and protect the law. They were scholars learned in the law, who lectured on it in synagogues, taught it in schools, debated it in public and private, and applied it in judgment on specific cases. (dictionary definition of a scribe.)

Jesus was also very familiar with God's law. He, too, was able to quote scripture, apply it and debate it. But when Jesus taught the people, they were amazed at his authority which was nothing like the authority they were used to. Jesus' authority brought change and healing. It brought light where there was no light and freedom where none existed. Jesus 'knew' the scripture in the same way the scribes did but his knowledge went deeper and was more intimate. His knowledge of all things to do with God wasn’t based on principles and laws or a myriad of interpretations of that law; his knowledge was based on relationship. When he taught the people, he wasn't simply quoting something he had learned by rote; he was talking about someone he knew intimately. When he spoke of God the Father, he spoke from experience and from his constant connection with the Father. He spoke only about what God had spoken to him. He could teach love with authority because he was knew the Author of Love. He could heal with authority because he was one with the Author of Healing. He could bring deliverance with authority because he lived within the heart of the Author of freedom.

Christ's authority naturally flowed out of his knowledge of the Father. The scribes knew everything there was to know about the law but, as St. Paul was fond of pointing out, the written word is dead and cannot bring life, only awareness of sin and failure and condemnation. Jesus' intimate knowledge of the Father astounded and amazed the people because he spoke of things he really knew, not just things he had read about or heard about.

It is interesting to note that the unclean spirits were completely freaked out by Jesus' authority but those same spirits couldn’t have cared less about the scribes' authority. The spirits knew that dead knowledge (law) regulates and controls people only on a surface level but living knowledge goes deep into the inner heart and sets people free. That's why they wanted nothing to do with Jesus.

The lovely thing about Jesus is he not only was able to share his knowledge of the Father with the people, but he wanted everyone to have the same experience of the Father as he did. In fact, that was one reason Jesus came – to show what it was really like to walk intimately with God. He came to share the good news that God is indeed a Father and that God wants a close relationship with each one of us.

We are all called to share in Christ's authority. But what does that mean? What did it mean when I realized that I was trying to manufacture and use authority to shape my life without having any idea what it meant to have authority? How does one get to a place of true authority? For me it meant letting go of all the ideals, goals, precepts and standards that I thought I had to make work in my life and be totally poor before God. I had to admit that in spite of all the spiritual knowledge I had built up in myself over the years, I knew nothing, could do nothing and had no idea where to go. Furthermore, I told God I was not going to do anything about it. I was going to wait on him. I wasn't going to seek him in more books or more speakers and continue to add to the useless and weighty type of knowledge authority I thought was necessary. I was going to wait for him to speak the living word to my heart.

What a relief that was to my whole being. It was like I had been carrying a mountain of useless and heavy knowledge, knowledge I didn't even know how to use or apply properly let alone gain authority from it. All it did was sit on my shoulders and condemn me for never quite getting it right. When I said, “I'm not carrying this anymore,” it was as if God answered, “Yes!! I've just been waiting for you to say that and to drop that load. My burden - my authority – is the yoke of lightness. Just walk with me and stop worrying about 'application' and 'succeeding' and 'doing it right'. Take a break from having to find the right spiritual tool for every situation. Just walk with me.”

It is always good to regularly review your spiritual life and ask the question: Do I have a primary relationship with words, principles, precepts and rules or do I have a primary relationship with the living God? A relationship with rules and principles is a complex and heavy burden, one that always seems to point out one's failure. It often involves lots of guilt and self-criticism. It seems when we start trying to wield what we think of as authority, all we do is become heavy authoritarians.

A relationship with the living God is a vacation. The Latin for 'be still' is vacate. Simon Tugwell O.P., in a book on prayer writes, “God invites us to take a holiday [vacation], to stop being God for a while, and let him be God…God is inviting us to take a break, to play truant. We can stop doing all those important things we have to do in our capacity as God, and leave it to him to be God.”

Being loved, not being in control, is powerful kingdom authority.

The Voice

Mark 1: 14-20
After John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God and saying, "The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news."
As Jesus passed along the sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea - for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, "Come and follow me and I will make you fishers of people." And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As Jesus went a little further, he saw James, son of Zebedee and his brother John who were in the boat mending their nets. Immediately he called them and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men and followed him.

Is there anyone else out there who secretly thinks the disciples had it easy when it came to hearing the call and following immediately? They heard a voice, looked up and Jesus was right there. There was no mistaking who he was and what he was asking them.

There have been a few times in my life where I knew, without a doubt, that God was calling me to do something. One of those times was when he told me to become a Catholic. I was a committed Christian and, though my husband was Catholic, I didn't have any inclination whatsoever to explore the Catholic faith and would have been defensive if anyone had suggested I do so. I was happy with my faith life and wasn't looking for anything more. Then one evening when I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, a distinct voice in my head said, “Get into the Church and hide.” The interesting thing was that I had absolutely no doubt as to what church the voice meant and the only thing I could say and wanted to say was, “Yes!” At no point in my journey did I ever doubt the call. I responded because, well, what else are you going to do when you hear God's voice?

The disciples heard Jesus' voice calling to them, “Drop your nets. I have another kind of fishing for you to do,” and they immediately dropped their nets and followed him. What else were they going to do? They had distinctly heard Christ's call and they knew who he was. Of all the sincere Christian people I know,  I can't think of one who wouldn't drop what they were doing and immediately follow Jesus if they had no doubt it was his voice they were hearing. The problem is, we don't always hear God's voice in a way that leaves us with absolutely no questions or fears in our hearts. It's actually a rare and beautiful thing to hear God's voice in the same way Samuel heard the Lord's voice calling his name or the way I heard him telling me to become a Catholic. Rare and beautiful.

Why does it have to be so rare? Why is it so difficult for us to discern God's call for us sometimes? I said at the beginning that there have been a few times in my life where the call was distinct and unmistakeable. The rest of the time? Hard discernment. “Is this God's voice leading me or not? Am I supposed to do this or not do it? If I'm not supposed to do this, God will close the door...oh please God, close that friggin' door!” Meanwhile, I'm being pushed through the door as I grab onto anything I can to keep myself from going through. “Quick! Shut the door, Lord! Shut the door!”

Then there are the things I would really like to do but I can't get a handle on whether they're things God wants me to do. “Is God leading me or not? If I'm not supposed to do this, God will close the door.” However, if he actually does shut the door, I'm ready to find a window and if he shuts the window, I have this fire axe...

Why is it so hard to hear God? From my experiences, I know that when God really wants me to hear his voice, I'll hear it. I know this because the few times I did hear him clearly it wasn't because I was engaged in any deep spiritual prayer and it wasn't because I was actually trying to hear his voice in that moment. It was simply his time for me to hear him clearly and that was that. So, what about the rest of the time when nothing is clear and the struggle to discern is heavy and painful? Is it our fault when God's voice is indistinct?  Is it because we don't spend enough time in prayer or in the right kind of prayer? Does God get frustrated with us because we're so deaf?

I don't believe that. I believe that he allows us to struggle in order to discover that his voice comes in many different forms. He allows us to pray, ask, seek and search some more. If he speaks clearly in one situation, he may completely change his voice in another because if he always made it easy for us to hear, we wouldn't seek him anymore and we wouldn't discover how immense and all encompassing he is. We would be so busy listening for a single note that we would be missing the whole symphony that is God. We would wait for a singular voice to tell us what to do and where to go and we would respond like good little robots. We would be 'push button Christians'. We need to understand that it's not always about what God calls us to do; it's often more about our relationship with him as we struggle to discern his will. Sometimes his will is simply, “Stay close and dance with me. Don't try to figure out the moves or the end results. Just find my rhythm and I'll take care of the rest.”

We tend to focus strongly on end results and accomplishments. God is not all about accomplishments. He is about being known. If we seek to know him intimately, try to become less hung up on what to do and more keen on who he is, we will start to recognize his voice in places we never thought we would hear it. He will become the Lord of everything we encounter and we will hear his voice everywhere: in silence, chaos, a sentence, a homeless person, an enemy, a rock, a hard place, a fear or a wound. If all we listen for is “Yes, go,” and “No, stop,” what kind of a relationship is that?

At Mass I sat behind a couple whom I hardly know. The communion hymn was, “Here I Am, Lord.” I just happened to glance at the man in front of me and I saw him wiping his eye. Dust? An eye lash? I watched him. There it was...a single tear quietly coursing down his cheek. He had heard the voice of God in the song. And I had seen the voice of God in his tear. We were both blessed and probably changed without a word being spoken or an action made. I saw the voice of my Lord and it was sweet. He heard the voice of his Lord and was moved. Dare we question what was accomplished?

In John 20: 29,  Jesus said to Thomas, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." He could well have said to any of his disciples, “Have you followed because you heard me? Blessed are those who do not hear and yet follow.” Blessed are the confused, the afraid, the ones straining to hear, the ones who would willingly stay or go if they only knew what God was asking of them. Blessed are you for when you do finally hear his voice your joy will be like an ocean. You will know that he was speaking the whole time. You will realize that you didn't distinctly hear his voice because it wasn't time for you to hear it distinctly. He reveals his voice when it's time. What will amaze you is how his voice gently guided you and led you even while you were so achingly praying for clarity and his voice was the last thing you thought you could hear.

The Lord is calling you right now. If he wasn't, you would have no desire to know his will or to follow after him.

Your desire is the sound of his voice.

Have You Found What You're Looking For?

John 1: 35-42  The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, ‘Look, here is the Lamb of God!’ The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They said to him, ‘Rabbi’ (which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying?’ He said to them, ‘Come and see.’ They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah’ (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas’ (which is translated Peter).

What are you looking for? If you sat down quietly for 15 minutes and visualized Jesus asking you that question, would you find yourself answering with generalizations – answers that you think are what every Christian should be looking for? Would you immediately think of all the spiritual gifts and solutions that you think you should have in your life? Or would you discover that you're not sure what it is you're looking for? Would you discover that it's hard to pinpoint what you are really looking for?

Don't feel bad if a clear and definite answer doesn't come immediately to mind. The disciples who followed Jesus didn't have an answer to the question either. They didn't immediately say, “We're looking for the hole in our hearts to be filled. We're looking for a faith that's filled with life and light. We're looking for peace and inner happiness. We're looking to find out who we really are. We're looking for the Messiah. Are you the one who can give us these things?” They didn't even get close to being able to answer with what their hearts were really searching for. They asked Jesus where he was staying because they had no idea what they were looking for. They didn't realize it but asking him where he was staying was a beautifully right response. It was a Spirit-led response.

We always feel like we have to know the answers. We feel like we should know what we need in our spiritual journeys and we think we should be able to find the key to all the answers we need or want in our lives. When our definition of what our spiritual life should look like doesn't match up to what it really looks like, it is hard on us. We allow the failure hat to sit on our heads and we assume that we're not doing everything that is required and it's all our fault. We get discouraged or we hide behind overt busyness hoping that others won't guess how close to empty our tank is. When we pray we think we hear Jesus asking us to do more, be more, give more, pray more, love more, suffer more and relinquish more until we are are in danger of being completely 'more-tified'.

When we come to this point, we very much need to hear Jesus ask, “What are you looking for?” When we hear him ask that we should honestly respond, “Lord, I don't know. I have no idea what I need. I don't know who I am and I've forgotten who you are. I need to stop demanding that you come to where I live because I think I'm doing all the 'right' things. I need to leave myself behind and go to where you stay.”

The disciples went to where Jesus was staying. What happened then? They listened to him and came away with a deep sure knowledge that he was the Messiah. What kinds of things did he say to them? In my experience, there is always one thing that will connect us immediately and deeply to the reality of who Jesus is and that is hearing him tell us who we really are – hearing him call us by our spiritual names. You'll notice that in this week's readings there are several references to names:

John points out Jesus and says, “Look, here is the Lamb of God.”
The disciples ask Jesus, “Rabbi (which translated means teacher), where are you staying?”
Andrew says to Simon, “We have found the Messiah.”
Jesus says to Simon, “...you are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter)”
And in this week's first reading, Samuel hears God calling his name in the night.

I fully believe that Jesus was not only teaching those disciples about his identity and mission, he was also showing them their true selves. He was revealing to each of them on a very personal level who each had been created to be. They knew then that they were in the presence of someone they would follow to the ends of the earth. When Jesus says your true name, you know you have found what you were always looking for.

When Jesus saw Peter, he immediately called Peter by his true name: “Cephas” or Rock. Did Peter or the other disciples know where their names would take them or what they would have to do to get there? Absolutely not. The only thing they could do was follow Jesus and stay with him wherever he was day by day, moment by moment. They could say, “Here I am,” but they could not make their own decisions as to what Jesus would require of them. They couldn't create themselves. They just had to stay with Jesus in the moment and hear him speak their names – names that not only defined who they really were but also were names that reflected an aspect of the nature of Jesus, the one who is the Name Above all Names.

In order to stay with Jesus and hear their names, the disciples had to leave behind much. Most significantly, they had to leave behind their own self-conceptions. They had to leave behind their half baked dreams, visions, expectations and ambitions – especially spiritual ones – because none of their ideas of themselves, their dreams, their longings or their theologies were big enough to hold Christ. And neither are ours. As long as we cling to what we think we should be or how our spiritual life should be, we won't be able to go stay with Jesus. Whatever we think we know is too small for the reality of Christ or the reality of our names. Peter could not form himself into The Rock. Andrew could not turn himself into a Fisher of People, a preacher and an evangelist. Only Christ could. But Peter and Andrew had to take the journey of leaving behind their set in stone ideas of everything and be with Jesus wherever he was. Peter had to lose himself to the point where he couldn't even be true to his professed convictions and he betrayed his Lord. In that terrible act he lost the last vestiges of all those self-oriented perceptions that kept him from really knowing Jesus and knowing himself. Only then was he free to finally move into the amazing existence of who he really was: The Rock, called so by the Rock of Ages.

Every time you hear Christ speak your name you will grow a little more into the reality of that name. Your Name will form you little by little, root by root, branch by branch, leaf by leaf. It will slowly draw you away from everything that is not life-giving to who you are. It will form you in a way 'more-tification' never can. This requires you to take the time to listen as Jesus asks you, “What are you looking for?” It requires you to be brave enough to answer, “I don't know. I have no idea. All I want is to be where you are and nowhere else. All I want is to be with you and hear you calling my true Name. I want to know where you are staying, Lord.” And he will say, “Come and see...”

Go. See. Stay. Listen. And find out what you've always been looking for.

Epiphany 2012. Upsizing For Light

Matthew 2: 1-12
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’
Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. 

Wise men. Magi. Magicians. Astrologers. If these wise men were alive today they would most likely be called New Age practitioners and be looked upon with suspicion and perhaps even fear by Christians. At the very least they would be dismissed. It is interesting to note that at the time of Christ's birth, the people who should have been aware of the significant signs accompanying the coming of the Messiah, people like the scribes and Pharisees who studied the prophetic writings endlessly, had no idea that the Light had come. They were completely in the dark, blinded by their preconceptions of what the 'brightness of the dawn' would look like. Thick darkness had covered the people. God manifested his signs to all but the ones who saw and responded to these signs were either social outcasts or strangers with strange practices who, according to the Jewish belief, should have been the last ones to be led to the light.

This should make us sit up and take notice. It should make us examine our expectations of what we think it will look like when Christ manifests his light in our lives. If we have set ideas about what is light and what is not or where the light will come from or how it will reveal itself, we may find ourselves groping in the darkness of skewed preconceived ideas. We all search for the light every day of our lives. We all hope, like the Israelites, that Christ will manifest himself in the midst of our sufferings and challenges to lead us to freedom. When he doesn't come the way we think he should we become terribly discouraged and end up blaming ourselves for lack of faith or blaming God for not paying attention to our needs. In the meantime, he is very present, attentive and active but he is unrecognized because we are looking for something entirely different.

Everything about the birth of Christ was an antithesis of all the common expectations of the Jewish people. Because they thought they knew exactly what the story should look like, they could not see the unfolding of an astounding Kingdom narrative in which God planted the Light deep within the ordinary night. The glory of the Lord rose upon them but their eyes could not see it. “Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice...” wrote Isaiah. But it wasn't the Israelites who noted the star, followed it over a huge distance, saw where it stopped and were filled with joy. It was magi from a foreign nation. They were open to mystery however it manifested itself. “When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.” Overwhelmed with joy. That's a strong phrase. It's a little disconcerting to realize that in all the gospels, a respectable Israelite being absolutely overwhelmed with joy because of Jesus was relatively rare. Samaritans, Roman soldiers, lepers, prostitutes and those on the outer edge of acceptability were the ones likely to be overwhelmed by joy. For those who were educated about the Messianic prophecies, his presence was more likely to cause consternation, confusion, resentment, anger, fear and indignation. Joy seemed to come most easily to those who didn't really know who or what Jesus was supposed to be.

The first Epiphany – the manifestation of the Light to the Gentiles – was not an event designed to fire the intellect or affirm traditional expectations. This Light that reached out beyond the prescribed and acceptable borders was a visceral light, a light that moved those magi in their guts. Something far beyond them called to them and whispered of ancient yearnings fulfilled. It spoke to them about kingship, priesthood and death. The voice was irresistible. The voice of light was so magnetic and so consistent that even being led to a poor child with poor parents in a poor shelter didn't quench their joy; they understood that their minds could not define all the mysteries of heaven and earth and they knew they had no right to create definitions of the Light and keep those definitions in a well guarded box. All they could do was offer their gifts and weep for a people who could not see the glory that was right in front of them. Gold for kingship and Frankincense for priesthood were the gifts that Isaiah spoke of but perhaps those magi had an intuition that the darkness over Christ's people had only one possible outcome. Myrrh for death. Myrrh for burial. Myrrh for the journey beyond the grave.

We live in a dark world where it isn't always easy to discern the light but it does us no good to cling to our black and white talismans against the night. Like the magi, we need to be able to recognize God's pinpoints of light in the dark universe and be willing to strike out across a wilderness terrain without all our theological comforts around us. We need to be fully aware that the light can be a star, a child, a dream, a long arduous journey, a dangerous proposition, a diligent search, an overwhelming joy or a flight back into the wilderness. It is rarely what we expect.

We need to allow the Spirit to expand and open our hearts so that we, like the magi, can perceive and recognize the light. We often keep our expectations too small, too enclosed, too safe and too rigid to play host to a light that knows no boundaries and is always on the move, changing everything in its path. Isaiah said, “Enlarge the site of your tent and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out;” (Isaiah 54.2-17) He was telling the Israelites that the Light was on its way and the light was bigger than anyone could conceive.

The light has come. The light is coming. The light will always be coming. It's still on its way.

Enlarge your expectations. Widen up.