Morning Has Broken
While in high school, I was blessed to help lead a retreat for my peers known as Kairos. The name for the retreat comes from a Greek word which, very loosely translated, means “God’s Time”; it’s the time of God’s action in our lives, the time of salvation history, the work of eternity within time and space (something my metaphysics professor would term “spiritual time”). While I can’t reveal a lot of what happened on that retreat (after all, no one likes spoilers), I can say that attending it was life-changing for me, but leading the retreat was even more so.
You see, there is a great deal of sharing and openness that happens at these retreats. People suddenly become startlingly real, and open up as if suddenly a flood of stark honesty burst through the barriers of years of hiding, bringing showers of tears with it; and yet, when the darkness is washed away, and all the broken pieces carried away in the tide, there is finally enough room for the light of healing and grace to burst through and embrace their broken lives with peace.
And I got to be a part of it.
One of the incredible graces of this life is that we all have the chance to act as channels of light, instruments of grace. Each of us is given opportunities to bear the love of Christ to another, to not only watch the Holy Spirit at work but be a part of it. Being on the retreat, I got to soak up the love of Christ and others; leading it, I got to pour it out on others–twice as fulfilling.
We are all called to be ambassadors of love, to shower grace on the lives of others by submitting to Christ and living our lives by the inspirations of the Holy Spirit as we rest in the arms of the Father. There is nothing more painful than watching another person cry, and yet nothing more beautiful when the tears are tears of healing, tears born of years of frustration and self-loathing and shame finally released in the wild realization that all this shit they’ve lived with is not their fault, that they are infinitely, incomprehensibly, madly loved. And still more beautiful is realizing that this Love, this grace, flowed to them through you by the will of the Father.
This is what I truly, deeply live for: to be that ambassador of Love, to be an instrument upon which the master musician may make a melody of love to the world (THANK YOU JOHN MICHAEL TALBOT FOR THAT GLORIOUS ANALOGY), to be Christ for others, and watch them realize how utterly beautiful and meaningful they really are, to watch the pain and perforated masks fall crashing to the ground with the flood of their tears, to hold them and show them how very much they are loved, and see the garden of their souls grow under the tender care of God.
I know that many who read this probably need this healing. It is for you I fervently pray tonight, with intense joy in knowing that the Lord is only too pleased to bring you comfort, if only you will let it all fall away. I urge you, brethren, fellow pilgrims, don’t be afraid of healing. Don’t be afraid of tears, of pain. You are madly loved, insanely loved; only a love crazier than imagination could drive God to die for you. Believe that His love is enough, that His grace will flood your soul if you will only let the flood of years past out in one mad rush. Know that I love and pray for you all, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Lift up your face, and let the healing rain of grace wash over you.
The dawn has already broken; all you need to do is turn from the twilight.