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Friday was the Day of the Epiphany. Today is the feast day of the Baptism of Our Lord. A star ascended over the manger and wise men crossed the desert to draw near. A dove descended to the river and Jesus moved, through the desert, then out to the world.
God draws us near through mystery and desire. God sends us out transformed and empowered. There is a cycle in the spiritual journey that is like breathing- God draws us in; God sends us out. We may focus first on our need for God but then in the process of filling our hearts, God tips our hearts towards the needs of others and we are poured out.
God is the far away mystery that glimmers in the darkness and makes us wonder. When the wonder, or the need, grows deep enough, we will move, even through wild or empty places to discover Him- the One who waits in the place of light.
God is also moving toward us, coming intimately close- embodied in Jesus, burning like a flame in our own hearts, and shining like a guiding star through the words and actions of people both far away and near at hand.
Mystery and transcendence gather, deepen and then rush out as a growing imminence, an expanded understanding. We breathe in, we breathe out- our life is sustained by the air and spirit moving in us, through us and around us like invisible currents that carry us downstream.
Today is one of four days appointed for baptisms and a day on which we remember our own baptismal promises. Today there are no candidates for baptism but there are other outward signs of God at work. Above us is the star to remind us of the wise men's journey to Christ's beginning. To my right is the font from which our Christian beginnings flowed.
Birth is inevitable. Baptism is an option.
The presence of God is a given. A conscious relationship with God is a choice.
Whether we were delivered to the water as an infant by our parents, or we stepped forward of our own volition, any further progress from that beginning is strengthened by our participation.
This is true with any relationship. People who profess to love one each other spend time with one another. They do things together, learn about one another and in the process they come to share common cause. There is give and take, back and forth.
As surely as God hung the star to draw the Wise Men and sent the Spirit to drive Jesus to the desert, God is seeking by various means to move us into deeper relationship. But like Jesus and the Wise Men we have to decide put one foot in front of the other to go where God would have us go. We breathe in. We breathe out. Life is sustained by respiration and inspiration. Sometimes God is drawing us in. Sometimes we invite the presence of the divine. But if we resolve to continue on the journey we will grow in faith and understanding.
Perhaps we are in a time when we personally can see no stars and feel no warmth. This too is part of the ebb and flow of life. Grief, disappointment, or disillusionment can threaten to quench the light that is in us. We would not be the first to believe that twilight and ashes were all around us. Isaiah pointed to the emptiness that abounded in his time and proclaimed the coming of a light in the darkness- salvation that would shine like the stars-new things that were waiting to be born. "Before they spring forth, I tell you of them," Isaiah wrote.
Are we in darkness now? Let us look back and draw in Isaiah's hope. Then let us look forward in expectation - breathe out our distress and breathe in God's promise. The light is promised. The light will come - into the world and into our lives.
We do not need to be already wise to begin the journey, nor perfect to be acceptable to God. We have heard Saint Paul preaching in the Book of Acts. "I truly understand that God shows no partiality," Paul says. God is drawing near to us even if we have paused, stumbled or turned away. The invitation is universal and eternal. We can start right where we are. We can start right now.
Paul Wilkes, the author of Beyond the Walls, expands upon this point when he speaks of those who came to John to be baptized in the wilderness:
The poor, disenfranchised, oppressed, and sick gathered around him could readily see the promise in a new way of living a life. John embraced them with his words and presence; but he also looked beyond them, to those in the shadows on the edge of the crowd. There stood the publicans, already wealthy, who purchased the right to collect Rome's tax and then went about their business with ruthless efficiency. And there were the soldiers, brute occupiers whose might gave them power to do as they willed. They were two of the most hated groups in Palestine. But John summoned them closer; they were not excluded. Conversion was not beyond their reach. No, finding another line of work was not the prerequiste, he told them. For now, just to do their work fairly was enough conversion: extracting no more tax than was just, keeping order without being bullies. Conversion could begin today, within their life's circumstances….conversion is distinctly individual for each of us. There is no bar each of us must reach, no grand plan of spiritual homogenization. Rather, conversion is daily, incremental. Balanced. Personal. Doing the possible, not the impossible.1
There are times when despair threatens to overtake us. There are times for hope in the face of things not seen. There are times to travel by starlight, times to go down to the river to begin again and times when the Spirit will drive us out to wild and empty places then ask us to do nothing but sort out what we truly believe.
All of these times are part of the cycle of life. All of these times hold an opportunity to gain wisdom. And God is in all of them. In the eighteenth chapter of the Gospel according to Luke the disciples were despairing of their own salvation. They just couldn't see how they could do what they thought God wanted of them. Jesus replied, "What is impossible for mortals is possible for God (Luke 18:27)."
God knows what God desires for us. And God is by nature infinitely creative. Sometimes God is coming toward us. Sometimes God is calling and waiting for us to stand up and get moving. Sometimes God is like a wall that seems to be an obstacle but is really a grace - a boundary that keeps us from charging, headstrong, off a cliff in pursuit of some too small desire. And sometimes God is silent and hidden from our view. But God is still present- always has been, always will be.
Our own momentary lack of faith or vision or hope does not negate our relationship with God anymore than our own inability to see air makes breathing it ineffective. When we forget how to dance, God will lead. When rediscover our footing, God is happy to be drawn across the floor by our exuberant discovery.
The dance floor is our lives- our homes, our offices, our schools and our church. These are the places where we practice living the lives that God would have us live. We can expect to find joy, sometimes, and other times to have our feet stepped upon by other dancers who are also trying to learn the steps. There will be days when we are the ones who mash someone else's toes - maybe even on purpose when we can't contain our own frustration.
But the dance goes on and God's invitation to step out onto the dance floor is universal and eternal. We can sit for a spell if we need to catch our breath. We are free to apologize if we have stepped on someone, even if it was an accident. We are free to accept the apologies of other dancers - forgiving their trespasses, as we believe God has forgiven our own. Whether we are paying attention or not the music has a way of sneaking into our consciousness and causing our toes to start tapping. But if we go out on the floor and engage in learning the steps we will also come to know the Lord of Dance more deeply.
This is why we gather to worship Sunday after Sunday. This is why Saint James offers an Inquirers' Class, Quiet days and Retreats, Book Study Groups and EFM, Holy Week and the Lenten Study Series, and eighteen Ministry Communities through which one can express their faith through action. All of these are dancing classes and everyone is invited. So in closing let me leave you with a quotation from Lewis Carroll's poem the Lobster Quadrille: " Will you, won't you, will you, Won't you, won't you join the dance?"
The Inquirers' Class starts at 11:45. Look for other opportunities in the weeks ahead.
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