Yesterday I shared a phrase from the poet Kenneth White. He calls the light of Christ within all things "the diamond country." And he asks: Can you see it?

Time apart has a way of showing us our blind spots. One thing I saw clearly about myself on sabbatical is that as I've grown older, I've grown more worried. More anxious. There were times on that pilgrimage when I found myself gripped by fear.

When I noticed it (and I'm sure I didn't always notice), I tried to surrender it. Okay, Joe. Trust. Let go.

Here's what I know. When we look at the world through a lens of fear, whether it's fear of the future or fear of the other, we miss the light. The diamond country can be right in front of our eyes, and we walk right past it.

And it makes me wonder. In spite of all that I saw on that trip… how much did I miss?

Jesus put it this way: "The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light."(Matthew 6:22)

Fear isn't the only thing that clouds the lens. John O'Donohue names others. Envy, always haunted by what we don't yet have. Judgment, always sizing others up, and usually harshest on ourselves. Resentment. Cynicism. Indifference.

When fear, worry, or resentment cloud your vision, may you notice… and let it go. And may your eyes be opened again to the diamond country all around you.

Prayer: God of grace, clear our eyes. Where fear has clouded our vision, give us trust. Where envy or worry or judgment or resentment has taken hold, help us let go. Soften our hearts and fill us with your Spirit, so that we might see your light in the world around us, and in the people right in front of us. Amen.

A few years ago, on sabbatical, I spent time studying ancient Celtic Christianity. One of its great themes is that Christ is present deep within everything that has being. The poet Kenneth White has a name for that light within all things. He calls it "the diamond country." And he asks a simple question: Can you see it?

After I came home, I spent four days in silence at Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist monastery in South Carolina, looking back over that time. When and where had I noticed God's presence?

And I wrote this in my journal…

I felt the presence of the Spirit in worship, especially in the sanctuary of Saint Giles in Edinburgh, where John Knox was once the pastor. As the choir began to sing that Pentecost Sunday, it was overwhelming, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. Centuries of saints and sinners worshiping in that same place.

I felt it on the island of Iona when we were in the ancient abbey for evening worship. The guest pastor who was Dutch embodied a deep sense of joy. I could see it in the lines etched on his face around his eyes. As we shared communion with pilgrims from all over the world, I could feel the Spirit binding us together. And I felt a connection with my church back home across the ocean. It was almost mystical. I could feel within the walls a thousand years of prayers. 

I experienced it while surfing on the waters off Northern Scotland in that dramatic setting, and so often while out hiking while reflecting on the “Christ infused” beauty of creation, in the waterfalls, the sheer cliffs, the dense forests, and windswept plains.

I felt it at the monastery at Mepkin Abbey, in the regular rhythms of daily worship, and as I walked the labyrinth at sunset. I saw Christ in the eyes of one of the monks who at every worship service was completely given over in prayer.

And maybe most powerfully, I sensed Christ through the hospitality we received from my friend Alistair and his wife Shirley who welcomed us into their home in Scotland for four nights, fed us, and cared for us. I have this memory seared in my mind of the two of them sitting at the piano one evening - singing a mix of contemporary Christian songs and old favorite hymns. I thought about the friendship we’ve shared over twenty years of ministry - and all the ups and downs. And I felt overwhelming gratitude… And the Spirit… 

Diamond country…

The ancient Christian Celts make the claim that the eternal is ever seeping through the physical. 

I wonder where you have seen it…

Prayer: Tune our hearts and open our eyes, O Christ, to your presence in the world around us. In holy places and ordinary ones. In the beauty of creation. In the faces of friends. Wherever you shine through, help us to see you, and to give thanks. Amen.

‍

Let me begin by saying how grateful I am to those who make gifts that allow this ministry to touch so many lives. Your generous support is a real godsend.

How would you define faith?

The book of Hebrews gives us the classic answer: "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1)

It's a beautiful definition. But it can feel a little far away… until you see someone actually living it.

Pastor J. Howard Olds brings it down to earth:

Faith is the rare courage to act on that which you cannot yet prove to be true.
Faith is leaving a fresh grave with enough hope to carry on.
Faith is writing a song of thanksgiving when the rent is due.
Faith is accepting forgiveness when it seems nothing more than a distant dream.
Faith is proclaiming peace while you still feel the turmoil inside.
Faith is letting your hair down enough to receive the mercy of God.

How would you finish the sentence today?

Faith is…

Prayer: Loving God, give us faith for the hard places. Faith for the fresh grave and the rent that's due. Faith to accept your forgiveness, and to speak peace when we don't yet feel it. On the darkest nights, help us trust you enough to take the next step with you. Amen.

‍

Some time ago, I was driving down to Sarasota with a Christian radio station on. Every few minutes, the announcer promoted the station with the same line: "Safe for the whole family!"

And I get it. There are plenty of stations where someone might blurt out something you don't want little ears to hear.

But the word stuck with me. Safe? The Christianity I know is anything but safe.

Is Jesus safe? Does following him lead to a safe life? Is the Bible safe? (Try reading the book of Judges aloud at the dinner table.)

Think about the people who go overseas to dig wells or set up medical clinics. People who serve in inner-city ministries. People who work for peace and reconciliation. People who give beyond their means. People who take the risk of forgiving someone who hurt them.

A life of self-giving love can be pretty dangerous.

In C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the great lion Aslan is the Christ figure. When the children first hear about him, Lucy asks whether he's safe. Mr. Beaver can hardly believe the question.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver… "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good."

Not safe.

But good.

Prayer: Holy God, you call us to think beyond our own needs, to live for others, to take up our cross and follow you. Move us out of the safety of our comfort zones and into lives of service. When the way feels risky, help us trust that you are good. We ask in the name of the One who gave even his life for us. Amen.

Yesterday was World Communion Sunday. All across the globe, in hundreds of languages, Christians came to the same table and shared the same bread.

Many years ago, the church I was serving held a joint service with a Korean new church development. They had been meeting in our building for just a few months. We didn't share a language. We didn't share much of a history. But, there was joy in that room. Real joy. The kind that comes from worshiping alongside people who seem so different… and discovering you belong to the same family.

It's easy to miss, but Jesus' great prayer for unity in John 17 comes at the end of the Last Supper. He has just broken bread with his friends. He knows what's coming. And one of the last things he asks of his Father is this: "that they may all be one." (John 17:21)

He wasn't praying that his followers would agree on everything. They didn't then. We don't now. He was praying that they would stay at the table.

Most days we spend a lot of energy on what divides us. The table asks something different. It doesn't ask us to settle every disagreement first. It simply sets a place for us… and for the person across from us.

I wonder, who is sitting across the table from you today?

Prayer: Creative God, you made us in every shape and color and language, and you set one table for us all. Today we pray for those who seem unlike us. Help us to love them as you love them. Keep a place set for them, and for us. In the name of Christ, who makes us one. Amen.

‍