First blog post of 2021, and I hardly know what to say. I knew that merely turning the calendar to a new page wouldn't magically eliminate my husband's lymphoma, destroy coronavirus and end the pandemic, or create harmony amongst the fractious political factions here in the US. What I didn't know was that I would be witness to a pivotal moment in history in which armed protesters-turned-rioters would vandalize the US Capitol while waving Confederate battle flags and "Don't Tread on Me" banners and ironically carrying proclamations of Jesus as Lord. That they would trespass into private congressional offices, throw their contemptuous jack-booted feet onto desks, while wallering on "Old Glory" and calling themselves patriots. That the occupant of the White House would pretend to call for peace, peace, while there is no peace, telling them to go home while simultaneously stoking the fires of fury in his insistence that the election results were fraudulent. All this, on one of the holiest days in the Church year, Epiphany.
I must say that Epiphany never shone more light than when the abuse of human power was revealed in its darkness, both in the time of Herod and today. Saying Jesus is Lord while wreaking this kind of havoc and terror in the halls of government is a lie, and I don't care what your political affiliations are -- if you are a Christian, your allegiance is to the Lamb that was slain, not to an elephant, a donkey, or a tyrant who incites mob rule and spits on the Constitution. This goes way beyond differences on policy or party politics; after all, neither party has a monopoly on getting everything right or getting everything wrong. But this is a clear example of trusting in one's own power, of relying on the sword (or the gun), of drunkenly swallowing the rhetoric that burns and destroys and kills. It was shocking and frightening and nauseating.
In my distress and horror, I turned to scripture, to prayer, to poetry, and to the writings of someone who had seen political insurrection and danger many times over. Listening to Handel's Messiah while reading Isaiah stirred the flickering flame of hope in my heart and prompted me to search out some of my photographs to express my thoughts. Malcolm Guite's poem written in response to Psalm 70 was written during lockdown last year, and Pray As You Go (an app and website) had pre-recorded their devotional moment, but their posts over the last two days were spot on, perfectly capturing my feelings and yearning for God's Light to penetrate the darkness. And John Wesley, who witnessed the Jacobite uprising, war with the French, the American and French Revolutions, and countless other diseases and types of human suffering, left a record of his faith in the steadfast love and strength of God no matter what might happen.
Riffing on Job 9: 19 -- If I speak of strength, lo, he is strong: and if of judgment who shall set me a time to plead? -- Wesley again and again, in sermons*, letters*, and in his journal*, offers encouragement to himself and others by speaking of crying to the Strong for strength, of trusting the Strong for strength, of looking to the Strong for strength, of fleeing to the Strong for strength. Whether referring to having to endure bodily illness, crises of faith, physical danger or violence, or contentious conversations, Wesley did not dare lean upon the broken reed of his own abilities, nor did he wish to see the people called Methodists do so. It was all too clear to him just where that would lead.
I write this today, not to engage in argument or disputation but simply in order to point to the Light and to the Lamb, the Strong to whom we may always approach for strength: strength to endure, to persist, and to challenge the forces of oppression and hatred. We are certainly going to need it for the living of these days.
Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people; but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. (Isaiah 60: 1-2, KJV)
*see Wesley's letter to William Minethorp of November 30, 1776, his letter to Eliza Bennis of December 16, 1772, his journal entry for May 26, 1752, and various sermons ("Self Denial," "Of Evil Angels," "Spiritual Idolatry," etc.
