I am a guest. With calls to prayer as poignant reminders, I know I am in a country where I am accepted, recognised, and respected as someone who is, for a time, within the tent. With expanding freedoms announced and put into the community, I am reminded of the cabinet found in the Christian church at the Abrahamic Family House. In the empty and silent, a cabinet stands alone. There is a keyhole next to the cross. As much as it protects what is within, I see it as a place that will only be unlocked from without. Knowing I have freedom, I find myself open to the possibilities only I can unleash.
Divinity is always present. One cannot hide from her presence or escape her words and relentless embrace. Divinity is found in the unyielding cycle of each day, the unceasing beauty of sunsets and sunrises, and even within our relationships. The fact that she is here should not be a surprise. Across time, I hear the call to invite Divinity into my life. It is a place and country where I find promise realised. A modern variation of the old Abraham story: “By an act of faith he lived in the country promised to him, lived as a stranger camping in tents. Isaac and Jacob did the same, living under the same promise.” (Hebrews 11:9)
Divinity embraces to the degree one allows. The unconditional nature is found in the beauty one witnesses, the compassion one receives, and the laughter of a conversation with a stranger. These are offered unconditionally to believers and unbelievers alike. With the choice always within us, we decide to unlock the cabinet of restoration and recreation, compassion and grace. We choose the measure of what we will accept and use within and without.
We hold the key because we are the key. Divinity works in and through her children, including us. If one wants Divinity to care, one will care. If one wants to see and experience Divine kindness, one will be kind. Our words and actions are divine keys.
