“Illumination changes perspective…” In a tangible sense, yes, I suppose this is true. This morning I walked out into my garden because flowers caught in a beam of sunlight went from present to brilliant. I wanted to catch the moment, to capture the beauty. Nothing had changed but the light. Purple blossoms had been there all night long, but were only visible after sunrise, unimpressive while in the shadow, but, the Sun!
That same sun had been making bright the garden of another while its light softly reflected in moonbeams over mine. It is the same light. The. Same. Light. Breathe that one in, pause. The same light turning the white lily in China brilliant, is making shadows in my night garden.
God is Light, and in Him is no darkness at all. All is made and held together by him, He is in all, and through all, the Life Breath of all that is. He simply is. And we exist inside him. And he in us. We are illuminated from the inside. So then, perspective changes illumination, does, it not?
If I believe that God is “out there” waiting for an invitation into my life. Waiting for me to surrender something, ask for something, be willing to change something… my world is fuelled strictly by my own effort. I am responsible for my mess. But I can also blame the mess on the absent god that refused to show up and change my circumstances. I am stuck in a helpless cycle. It rains on the just and the unjust, but I see only that I am wet and I would rather be dry.
However, if I believe that he is Life itself, my breath happens in union with his. He has given all I need for life and godliness (one might express this as kindness, compassion, hope, living in the present, patience). I lack nothing. The fullness of all that is, dwells in me, has given me his mind, spirit, and resources… from the foundation of the world. My Maker dreamed me up and I am the manifestation of His many pleasant thoughts! His declaration over all that began in the mind of God was that it is good.
So what then of the shadow? The dark corners of my mind, my soul, my being? Are they illusion or reality? Are they part of my definition, or merely my experience?
The process of beginning over as a human, whether it be in a vocation or relationship, is one that brings shadowed areas into the light. Parts of us that have been gathering dust get pulled out and used again. Some of them were put into the closet in disrepair, and time has made them move a little less gracefully. This can make for some awkward movements, perhaps even accidents, if what you had considered capable of carrying you through needed mending. The trouble is that it presents an uncomfortable experience for the one to whom garment or apparatus belongs, and those who witness the ensuing disarray.
Have you ever picked up scissors after a child borrowed it to cut wire, thinking you might cut fabric with it? It won’t function. It looks like scissors, still makes the motion of scissors, but it cuts like a butterknife. Generally, with scissors we buy a new one… Or bring it to someone who can put a new edge on the blades, tighten the bolt and return it to its former glory. It is still a pair of scissors, but misuse has left in in need of care so it can be restored to the drawer and become predictably useful again.
This week, I felt a bit like those scissors. In order to change my circumstances, I have to change a pattern and risk relationship. I went to use the blade, and felt the hesitancy of rejection anxiety. Rust here, a nick there, a jagged, ripped part in fabric where I once could have made a very clean cut. In the wrong hands, I will be tossed back in the drawer. In the right hands, I will be sharpened, oiled, and put to use. Restored to former glory, intended use.
I suppose this is where illumination comes into human relationships. For what we believe about ourselves also determines how we will treat another in their process. Understand, I know that sometimes one cannot stay to see the end. Some of us are looking for an eraser in the conglomerate drawer, and not a pair of scissors. And humans are, rather like those drawers of miscellaneous things we all have in our homes… everything in it is slightly used, and has consequently developed idiosyncrasies. Even Babies, fresh out the package, because of how they have interacted with other humans, develop habits for coping and getting what they need. We learn behaviours, and we also can unlearn them, when we find they are without merit, and no longer necessary or counterproductive.
One might be tempted to just replace all of the objects in the drawer if one fails. After all, we are not meant to fix each other, who is up for that? But perhaps, we are meant to be part of the process. Let’s say that someone did pick up those scissors who knew how to fix them. And they took the time to do it? Can you imagine the freedom of everyone else who needed them, and the ease with which their new found predictability would enhance the lives of all they touch?
I have found that I grow more inside a relationship than out of it. Friendship, family, work, dating, marriage… redefining after a marriage ends, and dating again… My rough spots, my old wounds… all come out, and I am left to face myself. Not alone, mind you, whether that person leaves or stays, there is never just me in the room. And I cannot blame the one who held the mirror. They are not the light bringing illumination. They are not the perspective with which I embrace the reflection. And they are never the shadow.
And how I need those relationships. I need to exercise the muscles of healthy perspective. I need to heal. I need to be reminded that under the nicks and bruises, and wounds, I still AM. The beauty imagined into existence by the Maker is still there. When the mirror is held up and the light hits the dark places, I need to recall that this also has been redeemed. Hopefully the one who holds the mirror is not so shocked by the apparent ugliness that they cannot stay to see the changes. When I hold up the mirror to another, I need to be willing also to be part of things until their vision clears. The goal in such a process is always restoration. Criticism is cruel abandonment if it only has its say and leaves. Desolation and despair may follow.
Our culture has taught us to avoid toxic people. To see red flags. To run. I have often wished it wasn’t impertinent to ask an officer who stops me for speeding if they noticed I was speeding up or slowing down when they saw me. Because, to me, it matters. One implies a desire to be responsible, the other, blatant disregard for the spirit of the law. When you note my red flags, do you see me trying to tear them down, or relentlessly waving them? I might suggest, that if I believe the same one gives you life, breath, and love enough to survive, as does me, perhaps we were meant to help each other pull down the flags.
I want to allow my perspective to change my habits of illumination. I want to deal kindly with myself and others. I want to see them as they are seen, and have them see themselves in such light. I do not want to be jarred into changing my perspective by the floodlight of illumination, as might a deer in the headlights. For that feels much too late. Wounding others doesn’t heal the one that was already there, in me or in them. My insecurity is not your problem. It is my own identity issue. But your support as I change may be invaluable. I may need your perspective on me. I may need you to tell me what it is that captured your attention when you first truly saw me, so that I can recognize myself in the shadows long enough to believe the light can bring that breathtaking beauty to the surface.
In the dark, I imagine all shadows are monsters. In the light, I see purposeful objects. May I always sit in the Light. And look from there. Safely, securely, optimistically, from there. Life illuminated by perspective.