Choosing the light

Today's news has been increasingly hard to bear.

From the first reports of an incident last night at 11pm, through the estimates of the number of dead and injured, to the agonising radio interview with a mother still awaiting news of her missing 15 year-old daughter in the cold light of a Manchester morning.

And then the release of the first couple of names, and ages, and photographs...all more real and unbearable. 8 years old. A dark day.

Thanks to the prompting of 2 HT members early this morning (thanks, Steve and Jane) and the rallying round of a small team, we have been able to open up the church for prayer and keep it open all day. 

When I was eventually able to take advantage of the space and the quiet myself I was overwhelmed. I'm probably not the only one to sit and cry, and pray, and ask 'why?' today. It's been repeated in homes and schools and churches around the country, no doubt.

Words will provide the answers in due course - I don't doubt that. But there is 'a time to weep...and a time to mourn', there is a time just to stare into the abject darkness of an act like this and ask what is going in and why doesn't God act like I would do if I had all the power.  Sometimes you've got to stare into the darkness of not knowing all the answers to begin to see the light, and today feels like one of those days.

I'm writing this whilst sitting in a silent Holy Trinity Church, whereas less than 24 hours ago I was here along with 200+ others joining in heartfelt prayer and praise as HT hosted the annual Archdeacon's Visitation Service (could do with a snappier title). 

Most were here because they were being licensed to serve as Churchwardens, or commissioned as PCC members in churches of the Reigate Deanery. People who give their time and skills, often at no small cost to themselves, to see their local church functioning as a beacon of light in the darkness, and to see others coming into that light as they hear the gospel of Jesus. A couple of hundred people moved and motivated and energised by the self-sacrificial love of God that they have understood and experienced through their own encounter with Jesus. 

You can make the contrast yourselves between the beauty of God in Jesus Christ, and the imaginary god of the bomber. (The bomber has just been named as a 22year old - tragic in itself). 

Today I (we) pray for those bereaved, for those injured and receiving treatment, for parents waiting to hear news, for paramedics, Police and children who witnessed horrific scenes last night and for those involved in the long process of bringing physical, emotional and spiritual healing. But I (we) may also pray thankfully that in Jesus Christ there is hope and light to counter the darkness. 

Many of us will be back in church on Thursday evening for an Ascension Day service. 

Luke, the writer of Acts tells us that Jesus, having been crucified, buried, and raised to life, then returned to heaven. The ascension teaches us that the crucified and risen one is now in the close presence of his Father from where he will one day return as judge and king over a renewed heaven and earth. What will that look like? Revelation 21 gives us a glimpse so that we can stare into its light and find hope...

'I heard a loud voice from the throne saying "Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people and God himself will be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" 

There is hope in Jesus and faith means waiting in that hope and choosing to live in the light rather than despairing over the darkness.