That's Lit! (As the Kids Say)

Sunset, August 25, 2021, looking north, panorama view

As a kid, do you remember hearing the three chimes at the beginning of an NBC television program: "Ding, ding, dong ... The following program is brought to you in Living Color on N B C"? If you were a child of the 1960s, I'm guessing those tones went off in your head in perfect pitch as you read that phrase.

I didn't hear the three familiar tones as I glanced out my kitchen window, but the gold-tinged clouds did prompt me to throw on a pair of tennis shoes and drive down the road for an unobstructed view.

Sunset, August 24, 2021, looking west

I'm used to looking west for my sunset shots. In fact, the night before, Randy called me from the tractor where he was spending yet another evening discing. "I think it's going to be a good sunset," he told me. He rarely steers me wrong, so I made the drive to the corner south that evening.

Sunset, August 24, 2021, looking west

But my kitchen window is toward the north. So I wasn't expecting the sunset show to appear there. And, yet, it did.

I wish I'd passed by a few minutes earlier, since the sun was sinking fast and the reflection on the storm clouds was about to fade by the time I made my way outside. But it was still worth the trip.

Sunset, August 25, 2021, looking north

It was kind of like Gomer used to say on the Andy Griffith Show, "Surprise, surprise, surprise!" (Speaking of old-time television. And that show was on CBS for the record.)

Image from Closer Weekly

That fading light in yet another of God's natural masterpieces viewed from the Kansas plains had me thinking again about the power of light. 

Before school started in August, I ordered "Jesus is the Light and the Way" flashlights for the worship committee at church to hand out to students and school staff for a Blessing of the Backpacks segment in our morning worship.

In 2015, our former pastor Ben Hanne wrote about light. I'm not sure whether it was in a pastor's column for the newsletter or what, but I saved it at the time because I liked it so much. (I did get his permission to print it here:)

From a technical standpoint, visible light is all about energy.  Click on your favorite flashlight (you do have a favorite, don’t you?) and you’ve ignited a source of energy that illuminates your surroundings as photons bounce off everything in its path as long as you have it turned on. Cool, huh? Light banishes shadows, clarifies our perception and can even generate sensation. (Think about the warm light of a fireplace versus the chill light of a walk-in cooler.)

The first chapter of the Gospel of John declares Jesus to be our true light, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it…The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” Thinking in technical terms, it suggests to me that God sending us the light of Christ is a lot more like a flashlight than a one-time gift.  God’s love and power continues to radiate towards us every day, it banishes the shadows of our fears and clarifies our perceptions.  The light of God remains firmly pointed at you, sending the gift of Christ continually.

May you walk in the true light of Jesus Christ, allowing it to illuminate every corner of your experiences.  In that light there is hope, energy and salvation - forever and always - as a gift from God who is…

Ben Hanne (former Stafford UMC pastor, now at Hillsboro UMC)

Here's praying I see the Light of Christ in nature and the people around me ... even on those challenging days when it seems the flashlight is firmly in the off position.

Some days, that's easier said than done, I know. Yesterday, we made the 8-hour trip home from Des Moines, where - as president - I was representing Kansas at the National Master Farm Homemaker convention. We got home to the air-conditioner not working, the hired man not working and a shattered window in the door of our loader tractor. "Welcome home to us!" I texted our kids.

But you know what? We had gotten safely to our destination and back. We had a good time while there. Our small town business responded last night and got us cool again. (We need a new AC, but that's another story. I was just glad to have the house cool again for now. Thanks, Meyer Electric!) Randy was able to go directly from carrying things in from the car to an evening session (and then morning session) on the tractor. And Case can get a door in four days ... Well, we'll see about that on a holiday weekend, but at least one is supposedly available in a time when parts can be hard to come by. 

There's always Light to be seen ... if only I look for it. May the Light illumine me ... no matter what.

                                                                         

Hills and Valleys

A song has played in an intermittent loop on my mental soundtrack for the past couple of weeks. It momentarily gets bumped to the background by a hymn we sing at church or a song on the actual radio dial.

But, if there's no music playing, it's a song that keeps resurfacing on my internal radio feed. It started on a trip to South Dakota.  Randy had gotten a phone call that his brother, Lyle, was in the hospital in Rapid City, so we hurriedly finished some obligations, then got in the car a couple of days later for the 12-hour trip.

We traveled across our Kansas plains, skirted the Nebraska sand hills and arrived on the plains of South Dakota. But as we got closer to Rapid City, the plains gave way to the Black Hills. It was dark by the time we arrived that first day, but I could still see the faint outline of hills as we drove west. And I first began thinking of Tauren Well's song, "Hills and Valleys," a song that I've heard quite a bit on K-LOVE, a contemporary Christian radio station.

Hills and Valleys

(Find all the lyrics at this link)

Find the story behind the song at this link

Sung by Tauren Wells

On the mountains I will bow my life to the One who set me there
In the valley I will lift my eyes to the One who sees me there
When I'm standing on the mountain I didn't get there on my own
When I'm walking through the valley I know I am not alone
You're God of the hills and valleys, hills and valleys
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone

The next few days, we spent most of our time in the hospital ICU, but we also went to Deadwood to retrieve a few things from Lyle's apartment.

  

Painted Lady butterflies danced and swirled in the flower gardens in front of his apartment building, reminding me of their "cousins" I'd left behind in Kansas.

There's beauty everywhere, even when your mind is swirling with other concerns. On the way back from Deadwood, we made a wrong turn and ended up in Wyoming.

But our "wrong" way transported us to the "right" place all along. We saw glimpses of a small stream as we drove. Finally, there was an extra-wide shoulder and we pulled off to explore.

Before I ever reached the clearing, there were more butterflies.

 

And then we stepped into the stillness of the pine trees. It was quiet. Just the rush of water flowing over a small waterfall hidden in the trees marred the silence. The water was enough to mask any sounds from the highway, though it wasn't busy anyway.

The tall pines and their shorter neighbors provided a maze of light and shadows.

Light and shadow ... our little oasis of beauty and pleasure in a sea of illness and shadow and uncertainty. And I remembered more of those lyrics ...

I've walked among the shadows
You wiped my tears away
And I've felt the pain of heartbreak
And I've seen the brighter days

And I've prayed prayers to Heaven
From my lowest place
And I have held Your blessings
God, You give and take away

No matter what I have, Your grace is enough
No matter where I am, I'm standing in Your love

Later, after Lyle was transferred by ambulance to a hospital in Montana, we drove to Mount Rushmore.

It was overcast, and the rain clouds blew in, causing pine needles to pummel us as they fell from the trees surrounding the monument.

And, again, the words from "Hills and Valleys" came to mind:

Father, You give and take away
Every joy and every pain
Through it all, You will remain
Over it all ...

And I will choose to say
Blessed be Your name
And I am not alone

Yesterday, we started planting wheat. My trip to Zenith to get a load of fertilizer was on the flat landscape of our Central Kansas home. There were no literal hills and valleys to traverse. But as tragedy unfolded on television screens and on radio stations yesterday from Las Vegas - and in real life for way too many people - those words again resonated.

And I am not alone.

Carriers of the Light

The sun was slowly saying goodbye to the day as we rode 4-wheelers across the Ninnescah River bridge. After a recent rain, Randy was checking to make sure the fence wire was still in place to keep the cattle where they were supposed to be.

As we again crossed the bridge to take the 4-wheelers back to the trailer, I glanced to my left and saw the sun playing hide and seek through the canopy of century-old trees. It was worth a detour to the cool, light-dappled path under the arms of the cottonwoods and elms.

FYI: HDR treatment on the photo

A few nights later, I was at our school's middle school and high school music concert. One of the songs sung by the 5th and 6th graders, Carriers of the Light by Jerry Estes, reminded me of that quiet scene.

I can get caught up in the daily to-do lists. Words can pierce the soul, many times unintentionally. Attitudes can falter in the crush of a life lived full-speed ahead. But I should be a carrier of Light instead of darkness.

Here are the words to the song. They resonate with me as graduates prepare to walk across high school and college stages this weekend. I should develop this kind of tunnel vision:

We are ignited, we are ablaze,

Burning with the fire of life.

We have invited you to this place,

To step into the circle of light.

Refrain:

We are carriers of the light,

Come to shatter the darkness.

We have power to pierce the night,

Carriers of the light.

Standing together shining our light,

There is no stopping us now.

Chasing the shadows into the night,

Overcoming darkness and doubt.

For when it touches you

When it sets you aglow,

The spark within your heart

will light the flame in your soul!

In case you'd like to listen, here's a children's choir rendition from YouTube. It might as well be stuck in your head, too!

Light for the Darkness

Christ candle & the cross at Stafford United Methodist Church

When we are in darkness

Christ is our light.

When we are in despair,

Christ is our hope.

When we are grieving,

Christ is our comfort.

When we are anxious,

Christ is calm assurance.

For all people gathered in this place,

Christ is for us; let us offer our gifts and praise.

(Our call to worship from Epiphany Sunday, January 5, 2014)

This time of year is always a little sad to me. Just this past Friday, I unhooked the stockings from the mantle. I unplugged the multi-colored lights from the tree and undraped the lighted garland from the grandfather clock. I nestled the angel from the top of the tree in a shoebox, and Randy toted the packed-to-the-brim plastic tubs to the basement, where they will be stowed away for the next 11 months or so.

At church, the Advent wreath goes back in the storage room, and the greenery and twinkling white lights are pulled from the gold banisters and go back into a brown cardboard box.

Sunday was the last day for the white porcelain Nativity scene ...

 

 and the poinsettias.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

But, no, it shouldn't be that way. While I pack away the bright lights and ornaments of the Christmas season, I shouldn't pack away the truth of Emmanuel: God With Us.

Just like Christmas shouldn't be about just one day, neither should Epiphany (though it is today,  January 6th, each year). The message is for everyone.

"Three Gentile star worshipers show up at the home of a good Jewish family. That is the last thing anyone would expect to happen," Pastor Ben told us in his sermon. "But it shows us that Christ's glory was not just for the Jewish nation but for all nations. ... They kneeled and paid him homage as a symbol of reverence, obedience, submission and an offering up of themselves.

"The journey continues to give us new opportunities to find the Christ Child," Pastor Ben told us yesterday. "The magi expected to find the King in a palace, but that's not where He was. He may be where we least expect Him. ... We find Him in kindness, in forgiveness, in generosity, in the gift of listening. God's glory is bold and different and life-changing and world-changing."

On Sunday, we had communion during the service. And I thought about how fitting that was, too. Because the story doesn't end with the Child. It doesn't end with the cross. Instead, it is Emmanuel: God With Us - yesterday, today and tomorrow. Before we come forward for communion, Pastor Ben says these words from St. Augustine: "Behold what you are; become what we receive." 

Today, we again receive the Light of the World.

Yes, it's time to pack away the Christmas decorations for another year. But I should keeping singing the song of Christmas all the way until Advent next year. And I should keep seeking and receiving the Light.

God of all glory, by the light of a star you led the wise to worship the Christ. By the light of faith lead me to your glory in heaven. Make me wise enough to wonder; make me wise enough to ask why; make me wise enough to search. Give me your wisdom. Give me your light. Give me your Christ, in whose name I pray. Amen.

 (Our offering prayer for January 5, 2014)

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