Monday, November 4, 2013


I’m praying, meditating, facing our big picture window which looks out over Gilbert Lake.  The sun has just risen over the horizon and, after what felt like an unbearably long, ash-gray and rainy week, it is pouring forth light over all the wet, chilled creation.  Including me.

As I do my body prayer – "I am washed in the living waters of Christ.  The cross of Christ goes before me; the light of Christ surrounds me; the risen Christ lives in me" – the radiance of the sun’s light surrounds and warms me.  For the moment, I am in deep, deep peace.

I am praying for a friend’s brother, stricken with a brain tumor which, though surgeons tried to remove it, is drawing him closer and closer to death.  I see Jacob, wrestling with a stranger (who he identifies later as God) all night long, demanding a blessing before he lets go.  Then I see people bringing, often carrying, their loved ones to Jesus for healing.  I hold my arms out in front of me, holding my friend’s brother in this morning light.  Not only the light of the sun, but the Light in which there is no darkness at all.  Usually, if I hold my arms out, whether straight in front of me or to each side, they get tired, achy and, though my arms are empty, it feels like I’m holding a great weight.  That wasn’t happening as I stood, holding him in the light for some time.

Slowly, the light dims.  Without opening my eyes, I assume the light of the sun is being diminished by a passing cloud, or that the deadening gray is moving in yet again.  However, after a brief moment, the light not only returns, but becomes brighter.

And so I remain there, holding my friend’s brother in what feels like sheer holiness.

To my surprise, the light begins to get even brighter.  We are being soaked in it.  How can this be?  How can the sun out-brighten itself?  Even with my eyes closed, a few tears emerge from the sheer brilliance of it. Opening them just enough to peek, I see that the sun has now risen high enough to be shining off the lake, intensifying both the intense glow and the warmth of the Light.

I simply held him.  In the Light.  That’s all.  I don’t think I have ever personally experienced, both in body and spirit, someone else being blessed.  Someone struggling, wrestling through a dark night like Jacob, like my friend’s brother.  Jesus assures him,  “I will come and take you to myself, that where I am, you may be also.”   Eternal morning.  Eternal blessing.  Eternal Light.

“And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever."