Bread for Your Journey

Some devotions, sermons, and essays to feed you on your spiritual pilgrimage.  You can receive a weekly Bread for the Journey devotion, written by one of the pastors at Luther Memorial by sending a request to luther@lmlc.org.

 

Punch a Hole in the Darkness

Not long ago I came across a story about Robert Lewis Stevenson, perhaps best known as the author of Treasure Island.   As a child in 19th century Edinburgh, before the advent of electric street lights, Stevenson observed the lamplighter making his rounds in the city.  "There's a man punching holes in the darkness," he exclaimed.  If that anonymous lamplighter heard Stevenson, I am sure he smiled and went on his way with an extra spring in his step. "What do you do for a living?"  "I punch holes in the darkness," he might have responded, with a little pride, to the next person who asked him that routine question.

 I am sitting in my office on Easter Monday.  Holy Week is over; many of the Easter lilies have already migrated from beneath the altar to someone's home.  The great paschal drama has reached its climax for another year.  Like the disciples, once it began to sink in that Christ was truly arisen, we ask ourselves, "Okay, so where do we go from here; what's next what difference does a risen Jesus make?"

 Where I find myself going is to a place of deep thanksgiving for all the people I've been privileged to meet who understood their Christian calling to be punching holes in the darkness.  Of course, there are famous people who have brought light to the darkness of oppression, poverty, and injustice—the M. L. Kings and Mother Theresas of the world.  We justly celebrate their lives.  But I am thinking more about the gentle maid at the seminary who cleaned up pigeon poop on the library steps every single morning and never complained because, "they're god's creatures too."  I am thinking about the many nurses I've watched over the years giving patient, compassionate service to unreasonable people in the midst of disgusting circumstances.  I am thinking about my Mom, seldom in the spotlight, but always slightly brightening wherever she was.  I am thinking about an art historian making funny hats with the children at vacation bible school.

 "What do you do for a life (not living)?"  Ponder that this week.  There are a lot worse answers you could give as a child of the Easter hope than, "I punch holes in the darkness."