Fear Not!

The angel of the Lord is encamped around those who revere God to rescue them. Psalm 34:7

 

A concrete angel stands in the backyard of Manna House. For several years, it stood with one of its wings broken off. Now it has been repaired, but the scar from the break remains visible. A guest frequently leans his bike against the angel while he drinks his coffee and visits with other guests. On one occasion there was a guest who engaged in conversations with the angel. I am not sure what they talked about but I’m hoping it was about the hospitality we offer. 

 

More recently, Nancy Weirs and her daughter painted two angels as part of a mural adorning one of the walls of the shed in the backyard. Inside the house there is an angel painting that came from someone as part of a donation. 

 

I guess we are surrounded by angels, not just in sculpture and paintings but also the kind indicated in Hebrews 13:1-2, “Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels unawares.”

 

In the Bible, angels typically function as messengers from God. When an angel shows up it is apparently startling, if not terrifying, as the first words out of an angel’s mouth is often, “Fear not!!” (Genesis 21:1-21, Luke 2:1-12, Matthew 28:1-10, Acts 27:1-26).

 

I’m guessing there’s some kind of psychological and even theological connection between the Hebrews 13 notion of angels coming to us under the guise of strangers, and the need to be told “Fear not” by angels who show up unexpectedly. 

 

In these strange days I need to hear that angelic message, “Fear not.” Maybe the concrete angel with the scar best speaks that message. She’s wounded but healed. The assurance comes from someone who has been broken, has been hurt, but still stands.

 

I see this, too, in our guests, the strangers who come to Manna House, some of whom must be angels as the Bible testifies. They also often carry an irrepressible spirit. Perhaps this is how they survive under hard conditions. These angels from the streets have a humility connected with humor and hope that gives them a lightness under heavy conditions. As G.K. Chesterton said, “Angels can fly because they can take themselves lightly.” 

 

I have a lot to learn from these angels encamped around me. God’s messengers come from the streets and gather in the backyard. With their broken wings, they tell me, “Fear not.” They bring the presence of God, as Jesus promised, “whatever I do unto the least of these I do unto him” (Matthew 25:31-46). They tell me in this time to keep hope alive. God isn’t done yet.

Epiphany

Morning prayer begins, “O God, you are my God, I watch for you from the dawn. My soul thirsts for you, by body longs for you” (Psalm 63:1). As I pray, I hear guests arrive on the front porch. The morning is bitterly cold. A north wind cuts through clothing, touching the soul. On this Epiphany morning, no star is visible above, only grey clouds. 

 

The Magi sought the Christ child. What do I seek? What do the guests seek? I dare to think we seek some of the same things. On a dark and cold morning, we seek warmth and light. And we seek welcome, a place where we can be at ease, share stories, laugh, be ourselves. God knows we share a humanity, made in God’s image, but also wounded, broken, that image tarnished. So across divides and differences, we seek wholeness, a healing for our sin sick souls. We seek welcome.

 

In Epiphany, we are to find God in our lives. In Epiphany we are to become conscious of God’s presence. Like the Magi we are to recognize divine presence in something ordinary and yet extraordinarily joyous. For the Magi, that is a newborn baby, the Christ child. That child as a grown up tells us we will find him in the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned (Matthew 25:31-46). 

 

This morning I found Christ in George who needed a new coat. He was fresh out of jail. The coat he had was not returned to him when he was released. When he tried on the coat he said, “This will do me fine; very fine.” At Manna House, in the ordinary offering of a coat to a guest, I suddenly felt an extraordinary joy. 

 

Something coalesced for me this morning that I had not found throughout Advent, nor on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. I found Christ in this home. This is not my home, nor the home of the guests. Rather, in this place I find welcome as I also offer welcome. It is Christ’s home. 

 

Maybe this is the spirit of Epiphany. The Magi with their gifts welcomed Christ as they were welcomed into Christ’s home. As Matthew tells the story, this hospitality quickly came to an end. Herod already sought the death of the newborn. And the Magi had to leave by a different route to avoid Herod. But for a moment there was hospitality in this home, the sharing of welcome, offered in joyous resistance to a world hellbent on death.

 

I was asked in a conversation later this same day, “Where do you find home?” Where is a place for me of love, of acceptance, of welcome, of rest, of deep emotional and spiritual ease? I am still pondering that question. But I also know I found home in a moment of Epiphany this morning. Warmth, light, welcome was shared; there was extraordinary joy against the grey and the cold.