Armor of Light

I've been exhausted by the trials and troubles in the world lately. Civl war in Syria. Rebels rising up in Congo. Fighting between Palestinians and Israelis. Loved ones struggling with health and history. Friends standing up against hopelessness. Congolese sisters and brothers thrown into insecurity and danger. It's heavy. It's hard.

Yes. This is Advent. Time of reflection and penance. But penance seems insufficient for the suffering and grief. I've been overpowered by anger, buried by sadness.

Yesterday I read the prayer appointed for the week (collect for 1st Sunday of Advent):

Almighty God, give all of us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Put on the armor of light. That's what struck me. That's what nudged me to move forward yesterday. And today. To put one foot in front of the other. To keep walking.

The armor of light. Light isn't always the breath, the sword of truth, brightness piercing the dark of night.

Sometimes light is heavy. Sometimes light is armor. It's defense. It's not healing. It's a shield. It's full-body armor against the ugliness and ruin and hatred. We have to pick it up and put it on. And it's hard and heavy. But sometimes it's the only thing we can do in the face of the evil and the ugly.

It's the only action I can take today.