Shine.

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples. (Isaiah 60:1,2)

A few days ago I drove up to one of our Airbnb properties (that Kellie manages) and couldn’t believe my eyes! The little decorative wheelbarrow that sits so merrily in front of the house was turned over. It didn’t fall over. It had to have been driven into! Because it was completely flipped, with its load of soil underneath it. 

I felt stunned and angry. How could someone do that and not tell us? Was it a guest, or was it some random passerby? What’s certain is that you couldn’t hit the wheelbarrow with that kind of force and not realize it. So someone hit it…and decided to keep it a secret. They didn’t even turn the wheelbarrow back upright. Who does things like this?

Kellie and I got into the Airbnb business three years ago. Everyone wants to get away to the mountains, especially in COVID. So the business has done well, and we have found joy in discovering hidden gems of houses and creating charming, welcoming retreat spaces. But I’ll tell you what: It has opened a window for me into the dark side of human nature like never before.

We get to see both sides. Most guests are pleasant, respectful, and appreciative of our labors. A few go above and beyond to leave thoughtful notes, to write glowing reviews, or to leave an abundance of cash for something small that got broken. And then there are the wheelbarrow crashers!

We’ve had shower curtain rods pulled out of the wall, glitter paint spilled on furniture and rugs, rotting food left on the counter with juices dribbling down into the cabinets, sheets with bubble gum on them, lamps broken…all without a word of explanation, apology, or reimbursement. And of course, when these things happen, like Paul, I rejoice in my persecutions. I delight in being wronged. I pray blessings on my enemies. Uh, right.

It’s disheartening to be wronged by people, isn’t it? To have someone take your kindest efforts for granted or to disrespect your time or possessions without the slightest tinge of regret. We all experience this at some level. Sometimes customers or clients. Maybe someone you work with. Drivers in traffic are notoriously rude. And then there are our children; they never take our sacrifices for granted or disrespect our property, do they?! Nope.

Courtesy, it seems, is in crisis everywhere. [Don’t worry, this article is going to get happier.]

I’ve been musing lately on how fragile is the connective tissue that brings us together…or holds us together. Most casual exchanges seem to come off quite nicely, but the opportunities for miscommunicating, misunderstanding, or hurting people’s feelings are a virtual minefield. Church friends, extended family, even (or especially) our spouses: no relationship is immune to the risks.

We often say one thing, yet another is heard. Good intentions are misinterpreted. And when the response is ugly, often my first instinct is to be ugly back. And even if I bite my tongue and don’t reply in kind, I often think ugly thoughts. Haters are going to hate, I say to myself…smugly sliding the offending party into some such damning category.

And on top of all our personal conflicts, real and imagined, we are barraged almost daily by the hostility of speech and action on the public stage. Political villainization followed by self-justification. Nationalism pits party against party, country against country, each drowning in its own rhetoric. The human condition is truly grim. Must our human solidarity really be so brittle? So easily fractured and torn?

The prophet Isaiah didn’t sugarcoat the problem in his day: “Darkness covers the earth, and thick darkness is over the peoples.” We’re blinded by self-interest and self-reinforcing narratives, he laments. But in the midst of that dim assessment, he sees a fantastically optimistic picture emerging…and I wonder if we might dare hold this larger view as we enter into a new year surrounded by portent.

But the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. Then you will look and be radiant, your heart will throb and swell with joy. (Isaiah 60:2-3,5)

Isaiah saw a dawning of hope and light that heralded the rising of the very glory of God, a brightness manifesting itself across nations with radiant, redemptive impact. Can we really imagine such a thing? Should we? I think that we can and should—for one reason. Because the glory of God resides within us, and that’s why Isaiah call us out! “Rise up,” he challenges. “You shine your light! The light comes from Me but it flows through you…and if you don’t let it out, it will not come forth.”

I find that idea completely intimidating yet compellingly hopeful. It incites me to believe that God-in-me and God-in-you can make a substantial difference in our land. That we could even change the story unfolding on the planet. I know, it’s a stretch. But I think that God could be that Big in and through us. And is there really any other game in town worth playing?

ThriveTip

So what might it look like for us to “Rise and Shine”? Maybe it looks like cultivating gratitude instead of fear. Like showing small kindnesses to strangers. Like expressing interest and compassion where we sense that people are in pain. Maybe it looks like giving ten bucks…or a bottle of water…or a meal to the dirty panhandler who makes us feel immensely uncomfortable. Maybe like turning off the news with all its manipulative provocations. Who knows, you decide.

Take a moment now to think of your own next step, of how your brightness might leak out this week!

Takeaway

God is in the business of hope and healing.