It is not easy to shift focus and adjust to light when darkness has long covered. Eyes squint and hurt for the seeing. And this is how it is for the eyes that guide the soul of a nation.
Some days it is hard to not just speak the same line that has come every day before and we all fall down. You. Me. Family. Friends. Nation. We rise up as a great wave of not really believing in the good to come. It’s a place that every person can fall into whether the complaining or the defeat or the bitter ways of deep disappointment and hurt, and it is hard for all of us. Every person. Every nation.
And yet, I know that this soul can change; become new. I have to believe it and I do see it. When we dream with students and we all live life in hope and promise each summer around a Gospel that is the Good News and it melts hearts of stone and how can we do anything but see? And open wide for the joy and believe that this is truth and this is God’s good plan.
But then there are the days when we all go home and the light spreads thin and the places are the same they have always been. I know this story. The hope that can’t come home even when I have found mine fresh and lived in so much expectation everywhere but here.
always been in their rutted patterns, but in the new gliding and flying of wings that rise up on weary and soar. And this is for all of us. For this nation. For each soul and the collective one too.