She called it "a beacon"

If you look carefully at the photo above, you will see a green light on in the first building - one of the four towers in the Cuatro Torres complex in Madrid. About fifteen stories down from the top. If you look at the photo below, you won't see that light on. It's a flashing light - it flashes 24 hours a day in that building. It indicates that there is a chapel there, a space where prayer happens and mass is said regularly. All day and all night, whenever anyone looks up at that building, they are reminding of the presence of God, the presence of the Holy Sacrament, the prayers rising before the throne of grace.

During my recent trip to Spain, every time I was in the car with my friend and we drove past that building, I took a photo or a video. Every time I saw that flashing light, tears rose in my eyes. Who does that? Who builds a skyscraper in a major city and installs a flashing light, a reminder that there is always prayer, there is always a community of faith, there is always hope, there is always God? God is always there. Someday I am going to go up in that building and find that chapel. Find that place of prayer and add some of my prayers to the many thousands that have surely been said in that sacred space.

But even without going up there, I went up there.
I joined those faithful folks up there with my own prayers.
I joined them with my hopes and dreams.
I joined them with my tears and sorrows.
I joined them with my prayers for peace and safety in Madrid, in Spain, and all over Europe.
Prayers for peace and safety in Ghana, Swaziland, South Africa, and all over Africa.
Prayers for peace and safety in Haiti, Cuba, India, Australia, and all over the world.
I joined them with prayers for healing and forgiveness, for justice and righteousness.
All over the world.

I told a friend about that space a couple of days ago.
I showed her these photos and a couple of the videos I captured.
I couldn't come up with the word for that light.
She called it "a beacon."
Exactly.
It is a beacon. A sign of life. A symbol of hope.
A light to beckon the brokenhearted and the lost.
A light to remind everyone who sees it that there are those who have not abandoned their faith simply because they are at work.
A light to draw people into a quiet place, a safe space, a room where hope and grace abound.

She called it "a beacon."
Every time I saw it during my ten days in Madrid last month,
every time I look at the photos and videos,
I am reminded of the Light of the World,
the One whose coming we celebrated two weeks ago today.
I am reminded of the moments of loneliness and sadness and despair I have felt during my life.
I am reminded of the beacons I have seen during those times.
The light of the smiles of loved ones.
The light reflecting off their tears when they have wept with me.
The light of candles as we sing "Silent Night" on Christmas Eve.
I am reminded of the light. Drawn back into the Light. Grateful for the light.
So very grateful.

As we enter what might be a dark time, as we enter what might be a frightful time,
as we enter what is already a difficult time, already an unsettling time,
I pray that we will keep looking for the light, the light of hope.
I pray that we will keep our eyes lifted to the hills, from whence comes our help.
I pray that we will keep our eyes on the horizon, seeking the lighthouse to guide us safely to shore.

I pray that we will be light too. Light in the darkness.
Light in the fog of the war between the powerful and the powerless.
Between the rich and the poor.
Between the disenfranchised and the politically savvy.
Between every "us and them" that comes up in political, religious, social, relational conversations.

May our light shine, flash, raise heads, twenty-four hours a day.
In our places of work. In our homes. In our schools. In our communities.
May others look our way, point towards each of us,
and say about us what my friend said about that light.
She called it "a beacon."