January in Saskatchewan brings cold, clear days with hoar frost and ice crystals catching light in the air. I was driving with my son, teaching him about sun dogs, the refraction of light through ice that creates a halo around the sun, with two bright rainbows on either side. And it got me thinking about the space – and edges – of freedom.

Each human being walks through life, this bright and dynamic light on earth. I know this is true, but I am aware of the deep truth of it only occasionally, when the light refracts just so. I get these momentary glimpses of the radiance and power of a single person, like a cold day illuminates the halo around the sun.

Moment by moment, the Creator gives me the gift of freedom. I have space inside myself and in the world to act freely, to make choices and direct my life as I wish. I can feel divine guidance when I seek it out, and choose how to respond. It is a miracle to me that divinity offers light and choices, but forces nothing. God enters into my space only by invitation, and only to dwell with me, never to direct me against my will.

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As I walk through my life, my freedom bumps up against the freedom of others. Life presses on the edges of my freedom and theirs. It is profound dance to imitate the way the Creator honours freedom.

Two teenagers live in my house who need increasingly more space to make choices of their own. They still need guidance and direction, and they need to be able to make mistakes to learn from them. My heart is stretched as I give them more space. I can see them testing limits and boundaries. The goal is to give them enough space to learn and enough support that they will invite me into their worlds willingly.  

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In my working life, I mentor and support people with their professional and personal lives. Sometimes, I have authority as a supervisor, and other times, people seek me out for guidance. Always, I work to be keenly aware of the space and edges of their freedom. It can be tempting to tell people what to do, to reduce their agency and justify that I am doing so for their own good. Occasionally, people are eager to defer their choices and freedom, happy to have someone else to blame for their decisions. Someday, I will stand before eternity to take account of my life; I do not desire to be held to account for anything other than what was appropriately mine to hold. I am learning to discern this carefully.

In exercising authority, I have learned that a reduction in freedom always results in more strained relationships and decreased capacity for that person down the road. It takes more time and effort, more care and questions, to offer others the space that is already theirs. Mindful of the power and authority I have been given, freedom requires me to rest in my own humility. 

So many people have had a hand in shaping my light. Parents and grandparents, siblings and friends, bosses and mentors and colleagues and neighbours, alongside many strangers. Of course there have been difficult encounters where the edges of freedom were trampled on, but the overwhelming majority of these relationships have been marked by respect for and a deep nurturing of my freedom. It is a gift to have people share their light in a way that makes your own light shine with more radiance.

As a wave, light cannot be destroyed, only bent, refracted, moved. 

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We step into this new calendar year from Christmas (and other religious observances of light) into an opportunity to see the lights of others with new depth. There lies an invitation for each of us to think about how our lives reflect light, how we will move in our circles, and the ways that our light makes space for others’.

May the light and glory of divinity move through all of creation.May we see the light in ourselves and one another with reverence and awe.And may we honour the gift of being invited into the space of freedom.Amen.