Unfolding Light

           “My kingdom is not of this world.”
                         —John 18.36

What is a kingdom not of this world?

The breath that passes through you,
whose borders exceed all nations;

the wisdom of your immune system,
whose ancient traditions never die;

the family you belong to, the tribe
that spans the globe and runs in your veins.

It is the Domain of Grace
whose law is mercy;

the love that is given
in which we live,

more real than earthly jurisdictions,
more present than emperors and armies.

It is a place of serenity that resists all chaos,
impervious to fear and anger’s noise.

It is the Land of Belonging
from which you can never be exiled,

for it is within you, and among us all;
the place the enemy can never find,

the fabric no ruler can tear,
the oneness that can’t be undone.

That realm is where you live,
if only you remember.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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When chaos descends,
sit and look.
See what is in front of you.
The color of stones, the slant of light,
the shapely shadows.
A little spider makes her way
toward the ceiling.
Admire her calmness, her resolve.
A sparrow receives communion
from the open palm of the street.
The plant in the windowsill,
whether healthy or struggling,
is doing its best. Notice.

Notice because it slips your mind
from the fist of bad thoughts.
Looking and seeing
places you back in your body
and its wisdom.
It puts you back in the world,
part of what is being created.
It reconnects you with what’s there,
the sparrow and the street and the sky
and the world of which your worry
is a tiny part, smaller than the sparrow,
smaller than the spider.

There’s wonder enough,
even in a prison cell,
to keep you alive.
When anxiety weighs,
look, and see;
notice
and wonder.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           “My kingdom is not of this world.”
                         —John 18.36

… he said, not meaning far from here,
or in some other dimension,
but, looking around at the trappings of power:
not of this world, not this kind of world:
the world of fear and dominion,
of power and violence,
the world of privilege and exclusion,
of hierarchies and judgments,
a world of “deserving.”

My realm is a world of grace and mystery,
a world of fierce kindness and tender beauty.
Don’t worry, I won’t take your throne.

And yet, my kingdom invades.
My love sneaks past all guards, escapes all armies,
evades your stoutest defenses.
The Realm of Grace infuses this world,
seeps through every dimension of it,
contains it wholly, prevails forever.
The love I bear withstands all evil,
overwhelms all fear, overpowers all might.

You will keep your throne, wield your power,
play your games of cruelty—
and it will amount to nothing.
In the end I will not take your kingdom from you.
Your own body will do that.

And my Realm will go on.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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This moment, stop.
Be still.
The Beloved says,
“I am holding you.”

Notice the planet earth.
Yes, “I am holding you.”
The light of day and the dark of night
say “I am holding you.”

No matter what happens,
triumph or tragedy,
we are held.
It’s all right to want paradise,
but for now, here,
let it be enough
that we are so lovingly, tenderly,
mightily held.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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             This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.
                         —Mark 13.8

I wonder if the darkness had to let go,
had to be overwhelmed,
for the secret hidden within to be let loose,
when God said, “Let there be light.”

I wonder what the tides felt,
being drawn taut,
shoved aside,
when God dilated the Red Sea.

I wonder how the burial bands strained,
tried to keep the body still and mute,
what contractions of gravity gripped the tomb,
when Jesus said, “Lazarus, come out!”

I wonder now beneath the wrenching darkness,
the seething tides of fear and hate,
the painful seizures of power,
what new life God is birthing.

The powers of evil always resist the Giver of Life;
but listen for angels already moving in the slave camps.
From this Golgotha, though sun be darkened, heavens rent,
I wonder what new life will issue forth.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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In the 13^th chapter of Mark Jesus imagines the worst:
             The temple falls…
             False messiahs and false prophets appear….
             Jesus’ followers are hated, and handed over to authorities
                   and must stand before governors and kings to bear witness…
             “And woe to those who are pregnant…”

Oof. I’m glad that’s not our world. Haiti, maybe, but not us.
The institutions we love and depend on will stand forever.
We don’t have to worry about being loyal to the Emperor.
People will never turn on each other.
And, golly, we have the utmost care for pregnant women.
We’re safe.

I’m glad. I mean, imagine living in that kind of upheaval.
In that world, justice isn’t abstract, but a daily commitment.
In that world it’s necessary—and hard—to care for each other.
Christians can’t stand by and see how it turns out;
they have to be part of how it turns out.
They have to bear witness daily—not just by saying the right stuff,
but by living lives of radical kindness and courage.
They have to sacrifice for the sake of love,
and dare to be kind to the “wrong” people.
They have to risk rejection, even persecution,
for their unconditional kindness.
They have to resist injustice and stand up against the Emperor.
I mean, in that world, they really have no security but God.
They have no defender but Jesus, no hope but grace.
They basically have to live lives of death and resurrection.

And we wouldn’t want that, would we?


___________________
Weather Report

Darkness;
signs in the sun and the heavens.
Expect turbulence caused by colliding fronts.
Temperatures will rise.
Light and warmth will emanate
not from above
but from those who choose
to radiate light and warmth.
Despite strong winds
divine presence will not be blown away.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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O Peace, be my peace.
I breathe you in.

O Being, be my earth.
I rest in you.

O One, be my spirit.
I belong to you.

O Wisdom, be my mind.
Keep me curious.

O Grace, be my hope.
I trust in you.

O Yes, be my living and my dying.
Give me courage.

O Love, be my heart.
Be my loving.

O Kindness, be my God,
that I may be your kindness for this world.

Amen.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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             “Not one stone will be left here upon another;
              all will be thrown down.”
                         —Mark 13.2

This is not a metaphor. The temple will be destroyed.
What we love, what we thought permanent,
will be thrown down.
Night descends.
Now, in the darkness, the lights matter.

Jesus is not preparing us to picnic in happy suburbs;
he’s training us to live with grace in a troubled city,
to live with kindness and courage amid turmoil and loss.
This brokenness is the world in which mercy matters.

When things fall apart, when chaos and fracture surround us,
we can stay whole.
When fear and anger rule, we can stay faithful to love.
When the temple comes down, don’t panic;
stay kind.

Empire will come and plunder,
but they can’t take the light in you.
They can’t take your courage to choose.
They can’t take your commitment to live with grace.
No one can take the Beloved from you.
That tender, strong presence is in you to stay.

Despite what falls around us,
tend to what rises within us.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Stand here on this little hillside long enough,
grasses waving, breeze breezing,
until you can outgrow the illusion
that you are some thing, some little object
apart from all the others;
and know you are the part of it that is being you;,
and trees are the treeing part of it,
the river is rivering, the ground grounding,
the birds birding, each in their own way,
each as their own birding part of it.
And the clouding and the raining
and the earthing and the starring
and the personing are all part of one being,
being.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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I know, it’s the widow’s “mite.”
But consider.
Wealth was seen as divine approval.
(Is our world any different?)
A widow, destitute without a husband’s income,
was a model of poverty and helplessness,
and therefore also (are we any different?) shame.
But, in the same spirit in which he said
“Blessed are the poor,” Jesus honors her,
praises her generosity and self-determination:
she has done something powerful.

The sharing Jesus taught was not mere kindness;
it also confronted the boundaries of “mine” and “yours,”
and therefore the hierarchy of rich and poor.
In his praise Jesus questions
why she is poor in the first place.
Why do we have rich and poor?
Because the rich like it that way;
otherwise they’d change it.
The rich are afraid to share, but not the poor.
And sharing is powerful: it disturbs the line
between mine and yours, between rich and poor.
It changes the world.

Empowered by her faith,
unswayed by social expectations,
she has made her choice.
This is the widow’s might.
May it be your power as well.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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