Greetings from Assisi. 

I first heard of Saint Francis of Assisi when I was a young girl. So what a blessing it was this week, ahead of a leadership conference in Florence, to finally walk the narrow, cobbled streets of Assisi, worn smooth by eight centuries of pilgrims.

There are two lines from Saint Francis that have always struck a deep chord with me:

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.”
“Where there is darkness, let there be light.”

Perhaps it was my years at a Catholic high school, Nagle College, whose motto, Luceat Lux Vestra – Latin for “Let Your Light Shine” – reinforced my sense of responsibility to shine my light in the world. 

I write this now; I’m mindful that it may sound a little “woo-woo” to some who stumble on this post. (Though if that is you, then perhaps it’s no accident that you have.)

I share anyway, because it’s my deepest belief that each of us has a unique and irreplaceable light to bring to the world and the people around us. 

Too often, though, it gets dulled down – by distractions and the noise of our modern lives. By the grievances we hold onto. By the doubts that keep us playing small, settling for what feels safe right now over what would make us feel far more alive over time. 

Most of all, by the deep fear of our being unworthy of what might happen if we dared to step fully into our light and dial it up to full brilliance.

In The Courage Gap, I wrote about how each cell in our body is like a battery, and each of us as humans is a cell in the larger body of humanity.  When any of us decide to step fully into our own light – even amid those fears and doubts – we illuminate the light in others. And so it goes that the good ripples outward in ways beyond what we can ever fully know.  Even over generations. 

That’s what St. Francis did, creating a legacy that’s outlasted empires. Of course, we’re not all called to walk the path of poverty or ministry as he did. Yet each of us has a unique light we’re called to bring to the world in some way, beginning with the people in our immediate orbit.   And so every time we doubt that we’re here for a purpose beyond self-gratification, we dim that light and shortchange everyone else of the gifts we might otherwise bring.

I know that voice of doubt all too well. 

“Who do you think you are to do that? What if you fall short?”

Even now, as I prepare to speak to a room of global leaders tomorrow, that doubt pipes up. Yet, what I’ve slowly come to learn is that each time it does, it’s actually life issuing me an invitation to step forward with more of the courage, love and light that the world so desperately needs. 

The same is true for you. 

No one on this planet has the unique combination of strengths, experiences, personality, passion, hard-won wisdom, and opportunity that you have. Not one. Ever. Nor will any again. 

And so while it can be tempting to play it safe – to sit in the stands until certainty arrive (it won’t), or to hold off until every shred of doubt is gone, growth doesn’t happen there. It happens when we lean into the fears that would rather keep us in the bleachers, silent on the sidelines, polishing the public persona of who we think we’re supposed to be.

Saint Francis would often leave his ministry of attending to the poor and marginalized to walk up into the mountains surrounding Assisi for time alone to pray. There, alone, undistracted, he would essentially recharge the light of his faith in Christ.

And so for you.

Perhaps the most important thing you can do this week, this month, is not to do more, but to take yourself away from your inbox or to do list and listen that quiet voice within you – call it God, your inner mystic, or whatever feels true for you – and ask it where you need to bring more of your unique brand of brilliance to the people and places around you.

I can assure you, there are many who need it.

An empathetic ear.

A few words of encouragement.
Some time to share the hard-won wisdom from your path to make their own a little lighter.

Perhaps the courage to make a post on social media that might be just what someone needs to read. 

Luceat Lux Vestra.

Margie