Salt is powerful. It protects life by preserving nourishment. Light is powerful. It expands with warmth and clarity of vision, falling generously on whatever is in its path. As we stand in the flow of divine love, and God’s love flows into us and out of us, we become like salt and light. This, Jesus says in Matthew 5:13-16, is who we are meant to be.

However, when I read the scripture this week, what I noticed was the sense of erosion of salt and light within me.

We have experienced things we are not meant to experience. Something inside us is defended. Can you sense where it shows up in your body? Does it have a form? A shape?

Underneath this defendedness there is sadness, anger, fear…

What is underneath it? Can you move closer and be with that part of you? Can you take your time and let it breathe?

When we are safe, we can soften. What would it be like to feel safe enough to allow your defendedness to soften?

Imagine a place in nature where you feel safe. Imagine God’s presence, like a light, coming close to you, offering you protection. Can you let God do the protecting for you? Linger here. Become aware of your expanding breath: inhaling, exhaling.

As I sat with the edges of my own defendedness, the people of Minneapolis came to mind, gathering in the streets to serenade the ice agents:

“Show us your courage, leave this behind. It’s okay to change your mind, and you can join us, join us here anytime.”

As I listened to their songs online, they became salt and light. I felt my defenses soften. My breathing grew more expansive.

This Sunday, music also joined us on a journey from defending to softening. Here are the two pieces of music, if you would like to listen to them again:

On the Nature of Daylight by Max Richter
Fantasia on Greensleeves by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

When the pieces ended, we sang our own song of courage and light, expanding with love towards the world:

“May our light bring courage. May our salt bring life. Together, we hold love”.

Blessings, 

Anne