Dear Rainbow Circle Friends,
This past Sunday, a new church year began as we celebrated the First Sunday of Advent. The first of five candles—the candle of hope—was lit, its flame small yet unwavering, daring the darkness to remain.
When I’m not traveling, I walk to a worship service held in the oldest building on Public Square in downtown Cleveland: Old Stone Church. This Victorian Romanesque marvel stands like a sentinel in the city’s heart, a place where history, faith, and artistry converge.
Inside, the sanctuary is breathtaking: golden oak and dark mahogany paneling, graceful carvings, a spacious balcony, and a trussed wood, barrel-vaulted ceiling stretching toward the heavens. Light filters through stained glass, though only a few windows at the back of the balcony are touched by the sun’s rays.
This Sunday was gray and cold. The clouds hung heavy, thick, and impenetrable—no hint of sunlight daring to reach the earth. Yet as the Advent reading from Isaiah 2:1-5 was spoken, a moment unfolded that could not have been planned or staged. The reader intoned, “…let us walk in the light of Yahweh…”—and then it happened: a single shaft of sunlight fractured the nimbostratus sky, reaching down as if heaven itself had leaned in to touch the earth. It passed through the golden-hued stained glass, bathing the chancel in a luminous, otherworldly glow. For seconds, time seemed to pause. The light danced on the wood and stone, on faces turned upward, on the flickering candle of hope itself—an unspoken message that darkness is never absolute.
For me, that moment was the sermon. Advent had begun. Love’s light, though fragile, shone boldly into darkness. Hope did not merely flicker—it leapt, it soared, it whispered that even the coldest, darkest days will yield to light.
Our world feels heavy now. The holidays, while joyful for some, bring struggle, uncertainty, and heartache for many. Yet as AWAB closes another calendar year and looks toward the season ahead, I am profoundly grateful for the light you help bring through your monthly support.
As we move through Advent, know this: each week as I walk to service, I give thanks for you by name. You are not just a ray of sunshine—you are part of a Rainbow Circle, a force that holds us, sustains us, and allows us to shine all year long.
May you encounter moments of the holy in the days ahead. And may the light of hope, even in its smallest, most miraculous form, touch your heart this season—piercing through clouds, warming the spirit, and reminding us all that the darkest skies can birth the brightest dawns.
Peace,
~Brian