In the middle of September, I marked the occasion of my birthday in a typical Coloradan fashion: by hiking a “fourteen-er.” A picture-worthy occasion, I shared it on social media and a dear friend commented, “Radiant creature!” “Sleep-deprived and super tired creature,” I replied. A week earlier, the same friend comforted me by reminding me that my “greatness” doesn’t stem merely from what I do, but from who I actually am, in God.
I share these two unflashy, ordinary examples to marvel with you, again, at grace. How when Christ called us, Christ meant it. How when some of us might think that we are falling so very short even in the foundational mandate to love others, starting with ourselves, light still pierces through. That the question is not whether we have or, rather, are the light, but if we are letting it shine. And if not, what is in the way?
Far be it from me to offer any high (or low) theological theses, yet everything seems to be at stake when it comes to letting our light shine. Tempted to read this year’s theme in Hallmark-y tone, I am centered by the gravity of the placement of this verse at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mountain, right after the Beatitudes. If the salt loses its saltiness, if the light gets dim… What else will suffice? Who else will be the city on a hill? Amidst ever-increasing school activities, professional responsibilities, ministry tasks, personal needs, and demands for lasting justice in the world, how will we (re)commit to living out Christ’s unconditional presence in, with, and as us?
Echoing Jesus, Irenaeus mercifully wrote about the living man [sic.], a human being fully alive, as the very glory of God. Friends, how can we not commit to this aliveness within us? What do we think holds us from being fully alive? What actually does? Does it? Where may have you believed that your light is the result of how much gets done or how upbeat you come across? When will you retreat and take care of your light, return to the true Self, your God-given luminosity? None of this is a small feat, yet this is the call, the joy even, the responsibility to become inspired, to let go, and to rest in God, to stay in Communion and in Conversation. Whom can you message at this moment to remind them that they are a “radiant creature?” Whose life will you prophesy truths into? Are you a witness to your own light? Shine unabashedly, friend. Live well, live slow, love without hesitation. Your aliveness in Christ is God’s glory. And let the light do its thing!
Ana Khlopina is School Chaplain at St. Anne’s Episcopal School in Denver, CO.