Month: February 2013

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
         
In this repentant season,
time of dust and ashes,
woeful via dolorosa—
cheer up.
God does not want your shame,
your groveling, your misery.
The Passionate One is in love with you,
and only wants you to let go
of your other lovers,
to come back,
oh, please, come back.

Listen beneath the clatter and roar
for her soft cry, so easily betrayed.
Can’t you feel her tugging inside you?
Be still, and let her song ring
down the empty hallways of your heart,
let her pleading make its way to you.

Forsake the drinking buddies who tell you
how to be happy. Go ahead, be rude to them.
Walk out on their desperate party.
Let go of all the clutter in your hands
and take hers, waiting for you in the stillness,
longing for you in the dust,
in the ruined silence of your empty house.

This repentant season is no time
to be morose, not when the Beloved
is so near to you.
This whole thing’s a valentine.
Let go of everything you love instead.
Disappoint your little gods of momentary comfort,
turn around, and be still,
and listen for the holy voice,
her rapture at your loveliness,
her infinite, tender desire
murmuring beneath your very breath,
“Beloved, be mine.”

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

         
         
         Remember you are dust,
         and to dust you shall return.
                  

Ashes are born of sorrow:
the lament of our sin,
the sadness of life spoiled and wasted,
the grief of things burned up.
         Fall, little tear, for the loss you endure.

Ashes are born of mortality:
the reminder that we have this little time
in which to shine our light
before our light is out,
our time is gone.
         Dear spark, the time to repent is now.

Ashes are born of humility:
of hummus, our humanness,
the dust of earth;
our common bond with living things
who need our love;
our source in death, decay, and mystery.
         Holy dust, dark soil, now birth us forth.

Ashes are born of tenderness,
for God knows how we are made
and remembers that we are dust—
how noble are even our poorest efforts—
and grants us grace.
         Fragile creature, your maker tends you with mercy.

         As in the beginning, Lord,
         take up this dust from your good earth,
         and breathe your life into us now,
         that we may be not ashes of a former gift,
         but living flame, alight and animate
         and born anew each moment by your grace.

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

              
Dear Lord, yes I need—oh, I want to be shriven,
to confess my deep darkness and know I’m forgiven,
but before I’ve come clean, repented and laid
my sin at your feet, it will go on parade.
Before I pretend to be some holy saint
I’ll show everybody the saint that I ain’t.
Before I’m a humble, obedient monk
I’ll be lecherous, greedy, self-centered and drunk.
I can’t claim to be a devoted ascetic,
whose piety’s sugar-free and diabetic.
I’ll be honest: I like my butter and eggs,
and ease, and the curve of a young woman’s legs.
So when I give up every sweet and confection
it’s not ’cause I think I’ll attain some perfection:
when I make the big forty-day giving-up switch
I’ll still be a glutton for things that are rich.
On Ash Wednesday I’ll put on those ashes and dust,
but you’ll see on Fat Tuesday my sweet tooth, my lust,
my eros— so we both know I am a slave
to the richest and loveliest things that I crave.
In these forty gaunt days I won’t leave my desire,
but I’ll feed it and flaunt it and fan its flames higher—
not for flesh or for food, but my fasting will be
still a ravenous passion aflame within me:
not a proof of my right or an act of my will,
but more hunger, as always, more greed to fulfill
my desire for the loveliest pleasure I’ve known:
my longing for you, my Beloved, alone.

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

The sensation,
pressing against your legs,
the give and take of it,
like a conversation
(yet not unlike the difficulty of prayer,
deep longing pressed back upon you,
questioned, not easily released).
Being embraced.
The vigor of it, the toil, the victory.
The needing to mean it, mindful,
each step a self-giving.
The gift that the earth notices,
the miracle that
even in your merely choosing to be
the world answers back.

_______________
Weather Report

Complementariness,
as the warmth of your individual existence
meets the universe and it responds,
as when you breathe in and air enters;
developing into full-blown relationship
by the end of the day.
Temperatures will vary
between resistance and harmony.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
         As the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
                  and do not return there until they have watered the earth,
         making it bring forth and sprout,
                  giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
         so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
                  it shall not return to me empty,
         but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
                  and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
                           —Isaiah 55.10-11

Winter Storm Nemo: Windy with snow showers this morning evolving to a steady snow for the afternoon. High 32F. Winds ENE at 20 to 30 mph. Up to 36 inches of snow expected; tidal surge up to two feet. Winds could occasionally gust over 70 mph late.

God, your grace pours down upon us.
You cover us in a blizzard of your love,
your breath blowing through us,
sweeping us off our feet.
We are hemmed in, powerless to resist,
drifts of your wonder piling up around us
overabundantly, relentlessly.
You touch everything; you change our world.
Something far greater swirls around us.
We are not in control.
We move slowly and thoughtfully.
We can’t ignore you. For once we pay attention.
We are mindful of our neighbors.
We can’t even leave our homes
without dealing with your gifts.
You impose Sabbath upon us:
unable to earn our keep, we will simply be.
We will be still. We will wonder.
Lord of the Universe, envelop us
in the blizzard of your love.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
         Jesus said, “The Human One must undergo great suffering,
         and be rejected and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”
         Then he said to them all, “If any want to become my followers,
         let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.”
         …Now about eight days after these sayings
         Jesus went up on the mountain to pray.
         And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed,
         and his clothes became dazzling white.
         Moses and Elijah were talking to him of his exodus,
         which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.
         …A cloud overshadowed them, and from it came a voice that said,
         “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
                  —from Luke 9.22-35

Christ, the Crucified One,
         be my light.

The radiance of your gentleness
         light my way.

The light of your self-giving
         show me my path.

Your nonviolence be my way
         through the sea of this world’s terror.

Your tender love be the law
         you give me on the mountain.

Your healing touch be the prophetic Word
         you blaze in me.

The light of your compassion
         guide my way in doing justice.

Your dying and rising
         show me the way.

Your radiant presence
         be the light by which I see.

Your gentle mercy
         be my path.

Christ, the Loving One,
         be my light.

         

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
I have a toothache. I’ve been referred to an edodontist. (Isn’t an endodont a prehistoric mammal, slightly smaller than a mammoth?) The pain comes and goes randomly and intermittently, as if every once in a while an endonont is standing on my face. Sometimes it’s nothing and sometimes the pain is vibrant and gripping. If it were beauty it would be gorgeous. But it’s pain. I’ve discovered I can deal with it by laughing. Whenever it starts, I laugh. Deep, spontaneous, heartfelt laughter makes it feel better. But it’s hard work. I have to laugh as long as it hurts. Preferably without crinkling up that side of my face. Which is impossible, which helps, because that’s hilarious.

But it’s still pain. In the end, what you have to do with pain is live with it.

As much as I don’t like it, it’s for the best. Because of this pain I’m more aware of the pain of others—people in physical pain and emotional pain, people with sore backs and broken hearts and gnawing fears. I know how it distracts you, defeats you, tires you. I’m aware of the miraculous gift of my body, that knows how to do whatever it’s doing. I’m grateful for the gift of sensitivity. There are people who can’t feel physical pain, and it’s a real disability. When the pain subsides it’s downright pleasurable to feel normal. I’m grateful for the wonderful gift of feeing OK, and I won’t take it for granted.

I’m grateful for a life that’s wondrous and splendid, and worth living even at the price of some pain. We sometimes think it’s wrong of God to allow us to hurt. We’re so attached to feeling good that we forget that it’s not the most important thing in life. We depend on painkillers. In fact pain is part of the deal. It’s our longing for healing, which is God at work in us. Being fully alive, being sensitive, being deeply present and one with Creation, joined in compassion with all living things, we’re going to feel pain, even sometimes deep, overwhelming pain. But the love is greater. The wonder is deeper. The beauty is worth it. Even the worst pain is embedded in infinite joy.

That may sound glib and saccharine even from one whose face hurts, and who’s been through struggles and lost loved ones. But take it from the one on the cross: the love in this world is greater than the pain, and more powerful, and in the end will win out. Live with the pain, and you’ll find there’s more.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
         

The sea opens
and closes its hands,

nowhere the poet’s drama
of struggle or labor

or even giving and receiving,
no having or not having,

simply this invitation
to open and close
and open our hands.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
I’m back in Massachusetts after a week of travels in California and Montana. I led a retreat, visited my dearly beloved Pacific Ocean, saw a friend I haven’t seen for 15 years, and spent some time with my sister and brother. I waved to our sons in the Twin Cities as I flew by.

All those places were familiar; they were my home at some time in my life. Now I’m home in Massachusetts, which, after eighteen months, still feels the least like “home” to me. Twenty different houses in seven states (and also England) have at some time been the place I called home. When people ask me where I’m from, what should I say?

This is not uncommon; we are mobile. And our jobs, social surroundings, families and life situations change. In some way all of us, even those of us who live in the house that’s been in the family for generations, are migrants, exiles and refugees. We’ve come from, or are heading, somewhere else. So with all this bumping around, where do we really belong?

Well, hokey as it sounds, we belong in God. Our surroundings may or may not be where we are “from,” but regardless of the landscape, we come from God, we are rooted in God, and we are known and desired in a place that is our own, in God. We are not little specks far below that God looks down on from heaven as from a plane. We live in God’s heart, within God’s compassionate presence, inside God’s love. No matter where we are, we are held in God’s gentle arms. We may be ill suited to our surroundings, or find them foreign, or long for the familiar land or people we call home; we may feel uprooted, alien or lost, and we are probably not now where we will some day be; but we are never outside God’s loving presence. Each of us, wherever we are in our life’s journey, belongs just where we are in God.

When someone asks you where you’re from, pause a moment before you answer and listen for that heavenly voice that silently says, “Right here.”
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com