by Leanna H.
“The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”
John 1:5
This piece of scripture became a turning point for my art and my soul one Sunday morning.
But that’s somewhat of an Omega when I should introduce Alpha. For me, John 1:5 is a point of fruition. Let me first begin with a point of inception.
I’ve heard and read pieces of scripture all my life. I’ve only now begun to remember it, and incorporate it. I think worshipping in a place that really nurtures us spiritually, intellectually and psychologically means that we can hear what God wants us to hear, what we need to hear. We are fed by the spiritual practice of gathering on Sunday to renew in ritual what we may question throughout the week. Trinity opens my plugged ears and feeds my grumbling stomach, because here for the first time I feel a spiritual alignment.
Trinity is the church my parents always wanted to find. Spiritual nomads, we searched the rural Midwest for a church that reflected a grounded biblical practice, inclusion and progressive values. Instead we found that one of two things tended to be lacking; either there was little spiritual substance rooted in the Gospel, or the message from the pulpit was far from inclusive on gender, race, and sexual orientation.
My artistic, nomadic nature made me migrate to this city where millions of immigrants and migrants of every kind have converged for centuries. But while I never lacked faith, a spiritual practice was one of many of my missing pieces. Another missing piece was the sense that I was fulfilling God’s calling. I’ve always, whether in song, performance, visual art or writing, felt that God was calling me to be an artist. But in coming to New York I was pulled in many directions. I felt I was failing God and my dreams. It was only after desperate prayer, and prayers answered, that I realized God was calling me to be, specifically, an author. There are themes I’m meant to echo, in fantastical and unexpected ways, I was called to be an uncommon witness- in mass market paperback.
Trinity Lutheran Church has taken disparate pieces of me and made a more whole person, imperfect as I am, justified by grace. The fraught, starving artist and the needy child of God find peace in the space for grace created between Trinity’s historic, Gothic eaves (the architectural style of which happens to have factored into all my stories since childhood). Being an artist often leaves few spaces for grace, much less in pretty, grand places. Being an artist is a life of pain, questioning, struggle both financial and personal, lack of understanding, rejection, sacrifice and darkness. Jesus well understands. He went through all that too, and for greater reasons than mine. He lived that fraught life for us. His light shines still, undiminished. So must we.
My latest book consciously and unconsciously contains scriptural references heard on various Sundays, the Gospel striking important chords, one by one, affirming that God always has something to say, and so do I: Good news. Darkness will not overcome us, no matter how much we question, no matter how much we struggle to find our path and calling. One theme emerges time and again from my books; those words of John 1:5. Once I realized that theme, there was a balm in my personal Gilead.
A recurring numbers in my life can’t be a coincidence. My first novel attempted at age 12 was set in the year 1888. My debut novel that was released last year is set in the year 1888. The first Trinity Lutheran Church of Manhattan was founded in 1888.
God is involved in our lives, and has been all along. Lighting our path.
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