Today I write with a cup of chai tea and the first snow of the season falling. Next to me, a small candle is holding vigil. I went for a walk this morning and it felt holy—sacred even. The air pricked at my nose and I felt a stillness I hadn’t felt for some time. It felt like the moment after a gut-wrenching cry. After the catharsis—when the stillness comes, it was like that. It’s a good reminder. A necessary one, as our world has felt at odds lately.
Yes, some things are still holy.
I, too, have beliefs and opinions about the world and how it’s working. I have strong feelings on a plethora of subjects. And yet, what I’ve been learning (and re-learning) is how quickly we lose the humanity of people near us and with us. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to use shame as a sword or guilt as a bludgeon. This is my cry these days. Not only for those around me, but for myself. Oh yes, for me too.
This idea of sacred is on my mind today. And I wonder how quickly we dismiss sacred? We invalidate that we should have to honor anything or anyone. We chide a person who holds something as valuable. I think this is a great loss, for all of us.
And so maybe we all need a long slow walk outside to bring us back to the beginning? To remind us how God made us to worship. And when we don’t worship him, we’ll inevitably find something else to worship. Maybe that’s the space we remember even nature itself points to him, and we need a re-set on this idea sometimes.
I hope sometimes we are struck dumb by beauty.
I pray today someone surprises us.
My wish for all of is to be astounded by ordinary wonder.
Because, dear ones, this is the point. This tiny life is the adventure he’s given us and it is sacred. It's our framework to know our creator and to love people. It is holy. It is hard too—but first holy. And if we can recognize our connectedness to the one who makes us, we can also honor the connectedness of those around us.
I can’t think of anything more revolutionary in our times but to live life from a place of connectedness to others, ourselves, and our maker. This would be a life worth living, wouldn’t it?
And so, in a tiny act of revolution I drink my tea, I pray my prayers, I lean on my people and I experience my Jesus. This is ordinary and it is sacred.