These are the words that showed up this morning, after having read about the hate crimes of our week, our year, our country, our communities. And, after running to and reading Romans 13.
Rock of Light
from the Coastal Edges of Oregon
Push on through the fog of confusion and conflicted rights; beyond your simple and somewhat defended ideas of what your breaking world needs, and does not need.
Stand firm again on the rock of Light and love, with assurances that Love does raise the most wicked. Love does heal the violently ill. Love does work its ethereal ways into the least of our fears, and tames the most strident terrors of our imaginations.
Love, even in the smallest of doses or most fleeting of thoughts, does make a difference.
You question your contribution to the solution, and the problem. You doubt the efficacy, and the aim. But truth is, the loudest and broadest of strokes are not needed in this moment. Quiet and small bristles collect to form a shape, a word, a message.
The power to change is not in the volume of extremes but in the responsibility taken; a chosen and conscious shift from harm to compassion.
In your single thought. In your mind.
In your silent prayer. In your heart.
And why would you dismiss the might of a single act as less than the ramparts?
Can you say when sand becomes a pebble, pebble a rock, rock – the ocean’s floor?
When one drop becomes mist, mist rain, rain – the water’s deep?
Or when a breeze lightly carrying the scent of summer turns to gust, gust wind, wind – the waves of change?
Pebble to rock. Mist to oceans. Breeze to wind. Until you can answer to the pivot of these, believe that the single and simplest choice of compassion is love enough to change the tide of hate.
Rock of Light, illuminate these meager means to love in me.