Day Twenty-Seven

Day Twenty-Seven // March 27 // Closing Off

“Forgiveness is like this: a room can be dank because you have closed the windows, you’ve closed the curtains. But the sun is shining outside, and the air is fresh outside. In order to get that fresh air, you have to get up and open the window and draw the curtains apart.” – Archbishop Desmond Tutu –

I’ve always been fascinated by caves. Growing up, my father – never one to waste time (or money) at roadside “tourist traps” – would speed past the glowing neon signs inviting guests to explore Meramec Caverns or to marvel at Ruby Falls. So, when I was asked to go amateur spelunking as a teenager, I jumped at the opportunity. Deep within the earth’s recesses was a world I’d only heard about: it was dark and silent – quieter than any place I’d ever been before. The only sound was of centuries old water seeping through the rock all around.

There was a certain feeling of safety in that cave, a sense of shelter. It’s no wonder, then, that the ancients made their homes in grottos amongst the cliffs. It’s no wonder that the early Church once met in caverns outside the gates. Even Aristotle opined about the protection that caves provide – a tempting place to hide from the shadows and pain outside.

And what we know to be true is that there are times in all of our lives when we run back to the security of our own self-hewn crags. There are times when, out of fear or anxiety or overwhelming pressure, we throw all our defenses up, when we build the broadest of walls. There are times when all we want to do is to escape. We want to keep the world out there so we can be safe in here: in a world of our own making, in a world under our own control. We close ourselves up and shut ourselves off from all that we perceive to be threats.

But control is just an illusion. We can control nothing outside of ourselves; and, honestly, most of us struggle to do even that. When Peter witnessed the crucifixion, when he remembered his biting words of denial, he must have been overcome with such guilt. He must have experienced a shame that forced him back to his old ways of coping: in fact, as John’s Gospel closes, we see the apostle back on the waters fishing. He reverted to his comfort zone; he went back to his cave. But Jesus

called him from it. Standing on the shore, our Lord called Peter by name; He called him back to life.

There is no way of avoiding the inevitable pains and struggles of life. We will be judged, criticized and hurt in ways we can’t even imagine. In those moments, though, we have a choice – we always have a choice: we can close ourselves off and try to cope with the stench of unused and rotting generosity. Or we can believe that the promises of God are true: that all things can work together for good. We can hide out in the darkness or, there, we can let God shine all the brighter.