LOOKING FOR THE LIGHT

Richard Wagamese once wrote:

“Nowadays, I figure life is pretty simple: Creator is everywhere and divine light shines through everything and everyone all the time. My work is to look for that light. In those fleeting, glorious instances when I see it, I am made more, right then, right there.”

What a beautiful way to move through the world.

Not blindly. Not pretending that everything is easy, or that every situation is good, or that every person we meet is simple to understand. But looking. Looking for the light. Looking for the presence of the Creator. Looking for the holy shining through ordinary things.

That may be one of the deepest practices of faith.

It is easy to notice what is broken. It is easy to notice what is frustrating, delayed, uncertain, or disappointing. It is easy to look at the world and see conflict, division, grief, anxiety, and change. Those things are real. Faith does not ask us to ignore them.

But faith does ask us to look more deeply.

The divine light may be found in a garden coming into bloom. It may be found in a hymn sung by familiar voices. It may be found in the quiet kindness of someone who notices another person struggling and steps in to help. It may be found in children laughing, in coffee shared, in a meal prepared, in a prayer whispered, in a card sent, in a hand held, in a conversation that begins awkwardly and ends with understanding.

It may be found in the person we already love.

It may also be found in the person we find difficult.

That is the harder work. It is also the holy work.

When Wagamese writes, “My work is to look for that light,” he reminds us that seeing the sacred is not always automatic. Sometimes it requires attention. Sometimes it requires humility. Sometimes it requires us to slow down enough to notice what we would otherwise miss.

Jesus often taught people to see differently. He pointed to birds, lilies, seeds, bread, children, strangers, neighbours, widows, workers, fields, sheep, and vineyards. He took ordinary things and revealed God’s presence within them. He helped people notice that the kingdom of God was not only far away or someday, but near, among them, already breaking through.

Perhaps that is part of our calling too.

To look for the light.

To look for it in creation. To look for it in community. To look for it in worship. To look for it in service. To look for it in those moments when someone is brave enough to be honest, generous enough to forgive, patient enough to wait, or loving enough to begin again.

And, perhaps, to look for it in ourselves.

Many of us are quicker to see the light in others than in our own lives. We see our faults clearly. We remember our mistakes. We know our worries, our weariness, and our limitations. But if Creator is everywhere, and if divine light shines through everything and everyone, then that includes us too.

Not because we are perfect. Not because we have everything figured out. But because we are beloved.

There are moments when we glimpse that light. A fleeting, glorious instance. A sudden awareness of beauty. A moment of peace in the middle of a difficult day. A sense of connection. A reason to hope. A reminder that God is near.

And when we see it, we are made more.

More grateful. More gentle. More courageous. More open. More alive.

This week, may we practise looking for the light.

May we find it in the faces around us. May we find it in the work of this church. May we find it in creation, in neighbour, in stranger, in memory, in hope, and in the quiet places of our own hearts.

Creator is everywhere.