On Sunday we considered that ultimately challenging paradox of the faith journey, the notion that we can only have fulfillment by becoming willing to let go.
     Each of us has treasured hopes and dreams, for ourselves and those we love.  And our tradition teaches us to pray fervently and act faithfully in the direction of their realization—to never give up, to keep our eyes on the prize, to run the good race with perseverance, and so on.
    At the same time we are cautioned throughout Scripture not to make idols of our aspirations—not to invest too much of our energy in dedication to one expected outcome, or to attempting to control or dictate the product of any process in which our hearts are engaged.
     We’re called to take charge of our own lives and care very much about the lives of others, without clenching our fists, holding our breath, clutching our dreams so tightly they cease to have room to take flight.
     All kinds of metaphors have been used over the years, from flowers to butterflies, to remind us to love and tend, and to surrender and trust.
     How is this possible?  How can we love without holding on, or invest ourselves without  being anxious about outcomes? 
     We practice, one deep breath, one unclenched fist, one prayer of release, one smile, one hug, one gaze up and out at a time.
     We try things, willing to see what happens.   We extend ourselves and take leaps of faith, knowing we’re loved in the process, trusting God to sustain, support, encourage, and empower us on the way.
    As we work, pray, yearn, hope, and seek God’s wise, loving will for St. Luke, I hope we’ll help each other seek balance in this area.  That way we can enjoy the journey, regardless of the outcome—and that way we’ll shine a light of human hopefulness that our neighbors just might need to see.
    I look forwarding to seeking and shining with you this Sunday, and all our days to come.
  Shalom,
Sarah