March 2011 – Page 3 – Unfolding Light

Not waiting

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

The trees are not waiting, as I am, for spring.

The snowmelt falling without guile
into the brook, why should it be mindful
of dark Atlantic currents, clouds rising and
sweeping within weeks along the steppes?
It’s only dropping with its pure plop
into this black water spinning under the cedars.

The trees are not waiting for spring
or even a sunny day.
They are not patient. They do not know.
They stand, as I am, knee deep in snow
with their little buds in their hands,
attentive to the press of bird or breeze,
or none, upon their limbs
and sing one note at a time
in their vast, unfolding song of praise.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

March blessing

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

May the blessings of March be yours:

the fierceness of its changes
brace your heart;

the strength of its winds
give you confidence;

the melting of snow
give courage to your repentance
and your forgiveness.

May the possibility of spring
haunt you.

May all that is frozen, hard and hidden
begin secretly to soften
and come to light.

May green living things,
tender, still and strong,
beneath what is seen,
begin silently to stir and rise.

Crocuses, dear, prepare
to pierce your heart.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Wow

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.


He led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
         — Matthew 17. 1-5

A mountain top, a man shining with light, the appearance of great leaders long dead, a bright cloud, a voice from heaven—let’s face it: there’s just no explaining the Transfiguration. Peter tries to contain it—and we join him—trying to put it in a box, make it fit, make it “mean something.“ But it doesn’t.

Sure, it’s a vision of the Risen Christ appearing in glory, and an image of Jesus as the light of the world and the completion of the Law and the Prophets, and so on. But really, it’s about this one thing: mystery. There’s power, and there’s glory, and there’s the story of the journey to freedom with Moses and the revelation of the Truth by Ezekiel. But mostly there’s just mystery. This is where the philosophers can only say, “Hm,” and the theologians, “Oh;” while the saints cry, “Ooh!” and “Aah!

We follow a mystery. We are allured by wonder, led by inexplicable light, claimed by a grace that defies all logic and transcends all understanding. We let our minds, as tools of control, rest. We let our confidence in knowing what’s going on take a sabbath. Instead we gaze. We go to the place where we are in the dark, where the Voice that speaks us says, “Let there be light.” We seek the faith that is a willingness to be overwhelmed, and a trust that the unknown is benevolent. We stand in silent wonder until our hearts catch fire, until we ourselves are transfigured by astonished delight. When we die and stand before God in judgment on on our lives, the great cry of faith is not our beliefs, but the song of the saints, echoed by the angels, raised by all Creation. It is simply this, a cry close to the sound of “Yahweh,” the name of God: Wow.

Life is mystery. Faith is trust in it. Stop trying to explain it, Peter, and simply let it be. Be in awe. Be at a loss for words. Be amazed. Pay attention. Don’t miss it. Listen.

Wow. Amen.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve