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You are a star
who is not small
to anyone who orbits your love
blazing throughout all.
You are a moon
full of luminous light -
Even when your heart’s busted in half.
You are a constellation
in my sky,
whose love connected all the dots
so I could see how everything
is drawing the shape of grace across the dark.
— Ann Voscamp
Today is my youngest son Joseph’s 16th birthday. I gave him a copy of this poem by Ann Voskamp because it speaks to me, especially in this season where nights feel darker and longer and I look for sparkles more.
Today we are observing the Feast of our Lord’s Epiphany, when God shows off God’s son to the entire world and confirms God’s plan as foretold by the prophets.
God’s plan is that all people will be saved according to the promises made to Abraham and his particular people. Accessibility to salvation is why we read the story from Matthew of three foreigners coming to pay homage to the baby Jesus today.
The Epiphany sets in motion a series of events which will bring Mary’s baby to the cross of Calvary. On the cross of Calvary Jesus’ sacrifice atones for the sins of the entire world, fulfilling his personal mission: to love all people no matter what, whether they are his people or not his people, whether they deserve love or not.
The good news is that God loves you no matter what. You can’t do anything about God’s love. You can’t earn it. You can’t deserve it. You can’t un-earn it. You can’t make God not love you. Impossible. It’s too late. You are already loved. There are no take-backs. Good Friday happened and you can’t un-crucify God’s son.
Now what do we do? Now that we are loved.
Once in awhile I tell a personal story and this is to date the most personal story I have ever told from a pulpit. When I first arrived as the rector of St James, it was a big deal for me. I had recently experienced many transitions. Can you trust me when I just sum it up as “It was a lot.”
My prayer at the time was How I sort through all the “It was a lot” and just be me? The original word God gave me was Sparkle. Sparkle is who I am and what I have to offer. And upon my arrival I found sparkle already here. God had established sparkle in the St James community prior to my arrival. I have a long list of examples — the top two, of course, are 1. the people who dedicate themselves to God’s mission here and 2. the beautiful grounds which are a ministry all their own. There are so many more.
So there is sparkle in the midst of “It was a lot”. Part of the “It was a lot” includes things like experience, expertise, book learning, and diocesean requirements and expectations, the need for accomplishment and acheivement, and general baggage of life.
I have heard the phrase, “Now that you are here St James will grow!” And I think, “Will St James grow? And if so will it be because I came here?” Gah! That seems like a fan club more than a community — and there is something deeper and more lasting on these sacred grounds than a fan club.
Vestry leadership and staff feel it and can articulate it. We have a mission statement of: Loving People. Serving People. Many congregations do a visioning workshop which usually launches a strategic plan which is a polite way of establishing a capital campaign. Something like that is probably going to happen here soon. You can hear it in conversations that start with, “What are we going to do about the broken organ?” Which I translate into, “What legacy am I leaving to the next generation?” -— Which is a question not asked by a fan club member but rather from someone who belongs to a community deeply rooted in God’s love.
In December, I attended a 5-day silent retreat. I’ve been there before and I know what kind of power is available. My friend described the original vision she received of the retreat house and how she and her family built it. So I decided I am going to get me a vision too, a vision for St James and bring it home as if it’s a Christmas present.
After everyone is asleep I sneak up to the sunrise tower, with 360 degree windows. I snuggle into the lazy-boy recliner with Holy Scripture and listen as hard as I can and watch for a vision. I look out at the misty darkness — so dark you can’t see the outline of the Blue Ridge mountains in the distance. I read every single passage of scritpure about James. I read Psalm 138. I say all the prayers I can say and wait. Really really quietly. And I fall asleep.
I don’t think I was out long before I felt a sensation like I was on a boat rocking on the waves. When I opened my eyes and saw the windows, for just a moment I believed I was aboard the Louisa Jane, the boat I hired to escort me across the English Channel when I swim across in 2021. I’m a little disoriented by the motion. And I am blinking because there is a light shining so brightly in my eyes it’s almost obnoxious. Piercing. It is a star. And I begin to laugh. The star looks so big and so close I feel I can touch it. Or more so that it is touching me. Out of the entire night sky, it’s light is sparkling directly into my eyes.
I get up and go to bed, chuckling and thankful. Sparkle was the original word given and Sparkle is the word confirmed. God brought me to St James to sparkle. And God is sparkling in and through St James.
There is more. And this is the very personal part.
Ten years ago I lost a baby at 10 weeks of pregnancy. Not knowing the sex, I simply gave the name “Sparkle.” That tiny electric spark lit up my life, and I believe it lit up that December sky, and reminded me of God’s way of showing off by shining in the dark. You are that electric spark for someone, even someone in this very room. You may not know who. Don’t try and figure it out or accomplish it or sort out “a lot”. Be you, Beloved:
You are a star
who is not small
to anyone who orbits your love
blazing throughout all.
You are a moon
full of luminous light -
Even when your heart’s busted in half.
You are a constellation
in my sky,
whose love connected all the dots
so I could see how everything
is drawing the shape of grace across the dark.
— Ann Voskamp
(thanks Jasmine Carey @pxlexplorer)
