Lighthouse

Ten years ago it was clear that Mosaic was the fitting name for what God was creating in Lenawee County...'one purpose, many pieces'.  And there have been so many pieces that fit together for just the right time and added to the beautiful story.  Mosaic has lived out its given name so well...as truly ALL are welcomed and loved and valued.  ALL.  No exceptions.  Many of us have found that our piece, maybe for the first time, does fit perfectly into this artful mosaic.

But pastor, I have a unique point of view today after watching you this past decade.  You are not creating a stained glass masterpiece.  Quietly and so carefully you have been making a sturdy, still beautiful lighthouse.  You've never created one before and you have no one to apprentice under, except the whispers of the Spirit and the quiet moments with the Father each morning.  Without a blueprint, daily you build.

Lighthouses are a symbol of hope, peace and beauty for the ships on sunny, placid days.  And they offer direction, reference and help on a dark, stormy night.

I didn't know you were a lighthouse keeper in 2010.  But what I have seen is hundreds of ships come toward the light you cast and as they sail your way, you welcome them with warmth...this is what light does, it attracts.  Then as they anchor near your lighthouse, you ask what they need food? Repairs? Someone to listen to their adventures at sea? Supplies? A map? 

A few ships have come and lingered so consistently that they are now dear friends.  Countless have come for light and stayed to be served, then gratefully set back out before you could learn their name.  As the lighthouse keeper, there are no conditions, no contracts...just light and a deep desire to introduce these ships to design so that they may sail fully and abundantly.  

You, pastor, have the most amazing gift to celebrate ANY ship, never swayed by size, adornment or crew.  And you have the most admirable way to stay focused on the goal to strengthen and support ships, with absolutely no thought of any ship ever returning your kindness.

Occassionally, there are moments that being the keeper of the lighthouse means you'll turn the large light and add bricks to the house, offering the sea longevity completely alone.  This never discourages you because the voice of the Father is clear and preparing for the next ship is your mission.  The ships don't know your toil.  They rarely ask.  Your own repairs and trials are yours alone.

How do I know this?  Because I feed you and joyfully care for your personal quarters.  I love watching you.  I love that you are the same light-giver when it is just us, that you are when a hundred ships anchor and there is festival and feasting.  I love that somehow besides building a strong, bright lighthouse, every spare minute is given to building 5 small ships with so much care and integrity even though you know you'll send them to sea someday too.

I also know something the ships do not...when they anchor for the night or set out for a new adventure, you kneel inside the lighthouse and intercede for them.  You bring your hurts, their ignorance, their crews before the Father and ask for help...because the sea is majestic and mysterious and we are mere men.  I know you cry for them, even last night, because their pain is personal to you and your care is so much deeper than any ship realizes.

Pastor, your mosaiced lighthouse, pieced together with so much care, may never be recognized by the ships, but do not think, ever that the light, the huge light you've given the sea hasn't mattered.

And finally, I must say that this entire vision and these words for you were given to me in 2018.  Today, two years later in 2020, I had NO IDEA how perfectly this picture would depict you...calm, humble, focused, brave, undeterred by the crashing waves of a culture war, a political storm, heartbreaking racial scars, violence...and hostility toward the Light itself.

Lighthouses do not shout at ships.  They don't fight the raging storms.  They don't use bullhorns or huge signs.  They remain sturdy and daily prepare to project light...strong, rhythmic, piercing, hopeful and comforting light.  The keeper waits for a tattered ship regardless of affiliation or tribe and then serves.

I didn't know you were building a ship 10 years ago, but it is beautiful.  Light always is.  Well done!