Being seen

This tree looks all the way into me
and recognizes there a tree.

The sea, its vast universe of green,
peers into my same depths, unfurling.

The silence of this world
finds itself in me, dark, settled.

Rapt, You gaze at me, deep,
and see yourself.

   —August 9, 2018

Anger, your friend

         Be angry but do not sin;
         do not let the sun go down on your anger,
         and do not make room for the devil.

                        —Ephesians 4.26-27

Anger is not a sin. It’s a feeling.
It’s not your enemy. It’s also not righteousness.
Anger, may arise in the face of injustice, or happenstance,
or almost nothing at all.
But it is not “against” those things.
It’s not about those things at all,
but about your response to those things.
Anger is a response to your powerlessness.
Otherwise you’d simply fix what was wrong.

Anger is your loyal friend: it’s giving you a message
and won’t leave till you get it.
So don’t neglect or suppress your anger:
it will sit there and seethe in your mind’s basement
and become toxic to you and others,
and, consciously or not, you will weaponize it.
Don’t turn your anger against anybody, including yourself.
Just listen to it: it’s telling you about your powerlessness.
And it’s telling you what you care about.

Listen to your anger, and ask:
1. What is not right?
2. Do I really care about this?
This anger could just be a conditioned response.
But it’s letting you know of your misplaced desire
for power ad control.
If this thing is not worth caring about,
You can let you anger be, without reacting to it. Just let it be.
And let yourself be powerless. (After all, you are.)
3. If I do care about this, what can I do?
Remember, you’re still powerless.
But let your anger direct your attention to what you can do—
not to hurt, to avenge, or to make yourself feel less powerless,
but to make the situation better.
In action you will regain your power.
Then thank your friend anger.

   —August 8, 2018


Great wound

         No one can come to me
         unless drawn by the One who sent me.

                        —John 6.44

In the womb of stillness I begin to see:
how small my longings!
There is a deeper desire,
an invisible ocean current bearing me: You
yearning for me,
earth’s gravity drawing me close,
so much grater than mine drawing earth.
What if I were to fall into this mystery,
that yours are the arms that reach?
How can I ever turn from you
if yours is the dark emptiness I fill,
the absence I complete,
yours the great wound
that I heal?

   —August 7, 2018


On this day, August 6, in 1945 we dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
Three days later we did it again to Nagasaki.
These were not military targets like Pearl Harbor.
It was not a strategic battle maneuver.
They were civilian targets, like Dresden.
This was not done to end the war, but to signal our strength to Russia.
Over two hundred thousand people, almost all civilians, died.
It followed the firebombing of dozens of Japanese cities.
This is a day of remembrance of our Holocaust.

To confront evil in the world
we begin with our own.
Only in humble, honest confession
can we bring a heart of peace to the world.
Only in recognition of our own capacity to do damage,
to misuse power, to have others suffer for us,
can we change the heart of the world.
Only in acknowledging the pain we have caused
can we bring healing.
Only in honest sorrow can we seek honest joy.

For all who cause suffering, and those who endure it,
God have mercy.

Help us live with a heart pf peace.

   —August 6, 2018


One body

         Speaking the truth in love,
         we must grow up in every way
        into the One who is the head,
         into Christ, from whom the whole body,
         joined and knit together
        by every ligament with which it is equipped,
         as each part is working properly,
         promotes the body’s growth
        in building itself up in love.

                        —Ephesians 4.15-16

God, I offer humility and gratitude
for being part of such a glorious gift,
the Body of Christ, in all its riotous diversity.
You have given us this vast, teeming universe,
this beloved community, in which to embody your grace.
Give me confidence to trust my part in the whole,
to honor my gifts, to give my offering,
and to relish the strange harmony we make,
even in our differences.
Give me courage to honor the ones some would exclude,
to treasure their gifts, to tend the ligaments.

Help us, O Oneness, to be whole,
to speak only truth,
to grow continually,
and to build each other up in love,
and so attain the full stature of Christ.

   —August 3, 2018

At the ocean


Wading in the ocean I am in four worlds:
the land, the sea, what is within,
and another.

Floating in the ocean,
my body hears
what I do not.

Watching the ocean,
the waves repeat themselves
until I stop understanding.

Sitting by the ocean,
the wind, not my knowledge of the wind,
washes me clean.

   —August 1, 2018

Bread of life

         I am the bread of life.
         Whoever comes to me will never be hungry,
         and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.

                        —John 6.35

Go ahead, bring
your deepest hunger, your sharpest thirst,
your darkest yearning for health and happiness,
for peace of mind, for things to be your way.
These are branches. Where is their root?
Something deeper you know you want.

You may be poor, sick or in prison,
but you will not lack this life I give you.
Real bread, substance of living,
nourishing your inward being,
the heartbeat of your soul,
the breathing in and out of my Spirit
I give to you.
Come to me. Open your heart to me.
Nothing in the world can sever
my umbilical love.

   —August 1, 2018

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