On New Year’s Eve I stood on my 15th floor balcony and watched the fireworks. The Eye was quiet of course, but there were hundreds of local displays. And with them came cheering and pot-banging – like the Thursday claps, but with fireworks thrown in. The best display I’ve seen to date.
Less than a week later we’re back in lockdown. I’m witnessing
first-hand the increase in COVID cases and hearing from colleagues of the immense pressure in hospitals. Friends with young children are struggling to cope – dry January is over and one has seriously contemplated giving up work.
One of the things that always strikes me about Jesus’ baptism is how immediately after it he’s led into the wilderness. Heaven opens, the Spirit descends, but instead of miracles and healings this is followed by adversity, hunger and mental anguish. The other thing I find fascinating is that Jesus doesn’t do anything much in the Gospels before his baptism. But God is ‘well pleased’ and loves him.
So, as the wilderness of this pandemic continues, I look back to New Year’s Eve not as a futile distraction but as a reminder of God’s Spirit breaking through. A Spirit of joy in the beauty of life and of each other. A Spirit of hope, not only in light at the end of the tunnel, but in God with us in the darkness. And a Spirit of love. For even when we don’t know what to do or where to turn, God holds onto us and calls us ‘the beloved’.
Susannah Woodd
