One year, my husband and I followed St. Cuthbert’s Way, a pilgrimage trail through the borderlands between Scotland and England. St. Cuthbert sang from the Psalter and shared stories from the Gospel of John to introduce the Celts to Jesus.

He preached to the generations who had been invaded by the Romans, Normans, English, and Vikings. The gospel message flourished among those who knew what it meant to get up. This legacy inspired me.

As the days wore on, I felt an accumulated weariness from climbing steep hills and cow-trod paths. Rather than rest, we were compelled to keep a steady pace toward the coast and cross the seabed at low tide to reach the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. Of course, the rain started to fall.

Tired. Wearing soggy boots. Why not call a cab? Seriously.

Then we saw this tree. Uprooted from what anyone would presume as necessary for life, it kept going.

God surprises us in the bleak places. Seeds of life germinate in the darkness of the ground, a discarded stump, and a woman’s womb.

In this season of Advent and Epiphany, look past the glitter and tinsel. They fade. Seek instead the hope that grows in this community of faith. We’ve all been knocked down at some time and yet still hold the spark to begin again. See the way hope blooms at Westminster. Jesus' arms are open wide to receive you.

– Jo