I love the text of today’s offertory. It was composed by Walter Stanton who was known affectionately as “WK” by his students. As a boy, he was trained at Salisbury Cathedral, then received his diplomas at Merton College in Oxford. He then went on to be Professor of Music at Bristol University and conductor of the Bristol Choral Society. He was also a railway enthusiast and a philatelist, which is a fancy word for a stamp collector.

Organists are curious critters, and many of us have varied interests like antiques, aviation, or stamp collecting. But aren’t we all curious? I was curious as a child. I can remember asking my mom “Did God make me?” “Of course,” she’d say, but then I’d rebut with, “Then who made God?” And to that question I’d get the typical response, “God always was,” which never satisfied me. I wanted to grasp it, but simply couldn’t. God won’t let us catch Him in that way. Known goes with unknown. You can’t pull them apart, but somehow, sensing this inextricable duality is how we become free.

Christ means “anointed one.” This inner light is ours for the taking, as Paul reminds us, “Let this mind be in you.” The light of Christ is a term that’s used for enlightenment, and it is something we all have the potential to experience. But what is the bondage that we are free from, as the anthem so heroically illustrates? It’s the blindness that we have about the inextricability of negative/positive. The two live in unity because you realize they depend upon each other.

Think of a sphere. Now try to see that sphere from all sides in your imagination, all 360 degrees. It’s impossible to see a sphere from totality’s perspective. Even if you unwrapped the sphere and flattened it out, you’d still be left with a side you cannot see. If you peer around to see the back, you’d still have a front. You can’t get around it, just like you can’t get around the idea of an infinite God, but we have an understanding that surpasses cognition. Even though I can’t see behind my head, I know something is “back there.” Spatially, I am aware of 360 degrees, but visually I’m limited. I must go by faith. If God is everywhere, there is nothing to fear, even in what I cannot cognate.

Freedom, in terms of salvation, is knowing there is always another viewpoint, but that there is no place God is not. Jesus was always getting us to see nonduality – “The first shall be last and the last shall be first,” etc. If you walk along any latitudinal line and continue, say, eastward, you’d end up right where you started. East meets west at some point, friend meets enemy, and loser meets winner. In Christ, all are ONE. Realizing this is the freedom we shall have, if only we open ourselves to it.

It is possible to know God in the same way you can know all sides of a sphere without seeing its entirety. We infer what’s missing, but never fear it. It’s like a surf boarder who stays balanced, but leans slightly forward, maintaining the sweet spot while staying balanced on the shifting turbulence of duality under their feet. If the wave crashes, it’s OK. You learn to adjust, adapt, and change when you get offsides or off balance. The key to freedom is staying in the middle, where east meets west. You balance and hover around the breaking point without getting lost on one side. There is always an opposing side, but it doesn’t have to overtake you. Freedom is in riding the wave carefully, thoughtfully, and trustingly. It’s a narrow way, but it also sets you free. Soli Deo Gloria!