above the clouds

Last night I sat in a dark space with hundreds of candles flickering around the edges of it.

In the middle a wreath enclosed four purple wax sticks―unlit. Symbolizing the arrival of royalty and peace, the entire design focused on a majestic white candle―to be lit on Christmas Eve.

“…our life of hope is not a guarantee of safety, but an invitation to risk. To live in hope is not to have reached our goal, but to be on a risk-laden journey…” Ken Collins

I listened to a story of a revolutionary Christian named Stephen, who threatened the legalistic traditions of a snobbish club of religious intellectuals in the first century. Many of these stiff-necked old men probably started out with sincere ambitions but got caught up in their own desires to control others and lost their vision in the process. In the end they conspired to kill him rather admit that they were wrong.

Looking at a photograph of the sun shining above a solid cloud bank, I thought about how many flights I’ve taken in my life―taking off on a windy or rainy run-way with lightning flashing across the tormented horizon. Clasping on to my seat (definitely in the up-right position) and watching eating trays drop loose from their clips as turbulence compete with the pilots’ resolve to get this huge bird into the sky regardless of the discomfort. Generally passengers respond in two ways under these circumstances, either cussing in violent tantrums or deadly quiet, trying out prayer for the first time as they consider the twenty odd hours ahead.

Usually the air-pockets and thunder storms occur so low that we get out of them quickly. A few months ago when Hurricane Rita caused havoc in and around my neighborhood, my dad’s flight from Chicago got rerouted via Memphis to Dallas―flying directly across Rita’s path. Needless to say, I seriously doubted the local air-traffic controllers’ intelligence and deliberated with God how this could happen.

My dad told me later how they flew right over the hurricane and the sun was shining brightly, no turbulence or drama at all.

Praying in the ochre candle light, I thought about hope and Christmas and the price of my risk-laden journey to America. Two or three particular names and faces of close friends in my life―also scattered across the globe―pounded in my chest. My heart breaking for them who were injured and humiliated by arrogant, unteachable religious leaders in the past.

Wishing I could apologize for their awful experiences on behalf of my blameless and radiant King.