Arctic Blast

As I sit here in the church gathering space, coffee urn plugged in, cookies and granola bars set out, and winter clothing lined up across a white, plastic fellowship table, windows bordering the darkness, rattle with each breath- extinguishing gust, tree limbs wave furiously illumined only by the sodium vapor lights whose metal poles creak and groan in mournful protest.  Here I sit waiting:  Waiting for anyone needing refuge and respite from the arctic blast which has overwhelmed our city.

Despite the fear and unknown of this dark and blustery night, all I can think of is the beautiful artistry of the gospel writer, John, whose paint brush leaves strokes of brilliant hues upon the easel of my heart conveying heaven’s divine beauty. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  What has come into being in him was life and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it... And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:1-4, 14).

 I am captivated by these words. “In the beginning was the Word” … “and the darkness did not overcome it” … “The Word became flesh and lived among us” … “full of grace and truth.”  I could revel in their beauty day in and day out.

 These words not only capture my attention for their beauty, but also for what they say about God.  They remind me of a God whose love is so extreme, that God wraps himself into the confining space of human flesh, entering my world of brokenness, messiness, division, heartbreak, and rejection.    

How must it have been for God to look on the world not from a holy place above the fray, but eye to eye, in our midst, watching the ways we mistreat each other, divide ourselves up, create hierarchies, build towers of Babel unto ourselves. How different being “flesh” must have felt from home, from golden walkways and angelic beings, echoing joyous strains of “hallelujah” all the time.

But the Word made flesh didn’t pack his bags and go back from where he came.  He didn’t turn away from that ragtag group of disciples, passionate but often completely misunderstanding the mission. He didn’t turn away from men or women, Jews or Gentiles, unholy Samaritans or oppressive Romans. He didn’t turn away from the sick or the afflicted. Even the dead caught the Word’s holy attention. The Word made flesh crashed through social barriers, religious convention, and everyone’s expectations.

 The Word made flesh chose to dwell among us, but far from building an impressive palace overshadowing us, the Word made flesh wept, experiencing the full range of our emotions, rejections, and heartaches. The Word made flesh full of grace and truth, is right here in the midst of the howling arctic winds and the frightening darkness that pushes up against these windows. Why am I sitting here at church offering a place of refuge from the frostbite-laden darkness of this night?  Because the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, is the light of the world; the light no darkness can overcome.  Not even the wind chills.  The Word made flesh is here. God incarnate. God with us. God among us.  Jesus is here, especially in the darkness.  Where else could I possibly be?

Peace and Love,

Pastor Doug