I can still remember the ring of people that encircled the floor of General Conference in Pittsburgh in 2004.  This was a group of people that was taking a stand for the full inclusion of all people in the life of our church.  As they stood around us, some of the delegates joined in the circle, and others of us stood at our seats.  Our delegation was only about six rows from the front of the auditorium, and as I stood, I just thought to myself, I am going to just keep standing right here, my feet firmly planted right in this place.  I am standing for all those people who are not here today and who are not even sure that this church is the place they want to be or stay. 

There were many emotions in that room, and tears were shed.  But the overriding memory I have of that experience was a kind of luminous one.  There was something shining, glimmering, in that place.  People were standing tall, and in some way, my backbone was strengthened.  “Restore us, O God.  Let your face shine that we may be saved.”  In the strangest way, there was something of God’s face shining, even in the midst of the pain and the struggle.

I believe we can be revived, so that we have new commitment and energy for the struggle.  I remember being on a mule ride headed to the bottom of the Grand Canyon a few years ago, having just ridden through the area of the trail that is called The Furnace.  The sun was beating down, and it was probably close to one hundred degrees and would get up to one hundred six degrees at the very bottom.  Even though I had been drinking water, it wasn’t enough.  My electrolytes got all out of kilter, and soon I was feeling worse and worse, seated on top of that mule.  I had the good sense to remember the guide’s instruction to tell him if we weren’t feeling right.  I spoke up, and he told me to lay my head down on my mule’s mane.  So, I literally hugged that mule, but couldn’t get my head low enough to make a difference. 

The guide then helped me slide off the mule and proceeded to pour water over my head, and fill my canteen with a Gatorade mixture.  I started to drink it slowly, and gradually I could see clearly and could think clearly, and had the feeling that maybe I would just survive a few more hours!  At the bottom of the Canyon, I sat myself fully clothed in Bright Angel Creek for awhile, followed by a good meal and an even better night’s sleep.  By morning, I was ready to go again.  Although my posterior was quite sore from the previous day’s ride, I was sitting pretty tall in the saddle just because I was breathing and walking and had climbed back onto that mule again!  From a puddle of nothing much the day before, my body and spirit were now revived.

These words are attributed to St. Columba: “Alone with none but Thee, my God, I journey on my way; What need I fear if thou art near, O King of night and day? More safe I am within my hand, than if a host did round me stand.”

God has the power to enter our lives in the places that may seem most dark and dismal.  For me, that’s exactly the hope of this season.

Sue Burwell

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