In an hour of darkness, Love walks toward the pain

Categorized as Rhonda's Posts

In the season of light, I can feel it. Where our tree holds out its arms, lights a-twinkling on its branches, the darkness presses in. Outside my window, the Holy Family sits, hushed, in a neighbor’s yard. Their figures glow golden in the night, and my thoughts return to Bethlehem. To a stable, a manger, a birth. Birth of Hope, Child of Love, God in skin…

Like a tidal wave, it’s come. In this country of mine, a hurricane’s made landfall. An earthquake scoring high on the scale. Men falling.

It began in Hollywood. Like dominoes, they fell. Then came the media, big names we all knew. Then, at last, the politicians. Men failing.

Now, I know that an accusation’s not enough. A charge alone isn’t proof. And yet. Where power’s displayed and power’s demanded, then abuse and misuse often follow. It’s quite natural. For in churches or in theaters, in Congress or on cameras, people will live by their nature. And it’s fallen.

A great spotlight’s come on, and we need it. So very much sexual dysfunction. Incalculable collateral damage, and not just in women, but in children, in men. Ah, such terrible darkness.

When Mr. Weinstein fell and many of his colleagues followed, I began to glimpse what God just might be up to, and, of all things, I felt hope. What if God was sending His searchlight into that arid, polluted wasteland? What if His intention was to smash all the high places, to destroy ancient strongholds? To ready a powerful army, folks with His heart and His light? What if that?

Yes, let Hollywood fall. Bring it down. Make way, O Lord, for the Light. So I pray.

Meanwhile, even here in the heartland, the spirit of this age has invaded. With dismay, I am witnessing the enemy’s attack on humanity, God’s design. The very building block, the most basic element of our existence (our gender) has become a source of confusion, of wounding. And it has invaded my world.

I do not have the luxury of turning blind eyes. Of closing my ears. Of ignoring a truth inconvenient. “It’s not happening.”

Yes, it is happening, and it’s happening with people I love. I see faces. I know names. I know stories. I’ve heard the horror that lanced into hearts, left them bleeding. Ah, Christ. And I simply could not turn away.

In the quietness of my home, my thoughts turn to Bethlehem, to the Babe Who was born in a manger. Hope everlasting on hay, and I’m thinking…

I am just one little mother. One girl in a canyon of need, of loss, and the name of the canyon’s America.

In my heart, I know the Joy and the Life and the Love and the Light and a wellspring of Hope like the tide, and I know that His love is the answer.

It fills canyons, His love. Cleanses completely, His love. It brings healing for all that can ail us, this Love.

On a clear November day, it is Pain that stands before me. A story, a wounding that could turn me away. But that Babe in a manger? He dwells within me, so what can there be in my heart–but that Love? The Love that first saved and healed me.

We step toward Pain, Jesus and I, and I wrap my arms tight, hug her close. Kiss her cheek.

I am one, tiny mother. I cannot save the world, but I can follow Friend Christ. Together, we can walk toward the lost. Yes, we can.

I am one, tiny mother, but I can love like He loves. I can love every one that He brings me. Yes, I can.

Jesus, Light of Christmas, send me. I’m Your girl.

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