Month: February 2019

         They are like trees planted by streams of water,
         which yield their fruit in its season,
         and their leaves do not wither.
                  —Psalm 1.3

Snow piles its dreams against the trees,
ice lays its hand over the river
and puts it to sleep,
the teeth of the air bite and hold.
Silence sinks, penetrates—
or does it grow outward,
blossoming, engulfing the woods?
The lovely stillness.
Trees are deep in meditation.
Unseen, their roots know things,
feel without movement, rest without vision.

They are not patient,
they are not waiting,
they have no mind of another time but this.
They are simply being.
Even the furled buds
are not planning, only receiving.

There are seasons whose leaves are stillness,
whose fruit is silence.
Let the moment lock you in its ice.

   —February 11, 2019

You walk this earth with light in you.
In all compassion it radiates.
In humility it shines,
in wounds and weakness it leaks out.

The darkness in you
also leaks out, like a smell.
When you die the darkness
collapses on itself.

Full of light, when you die
great light is released into the world.
This is your calling,
to release your light.

   —February 6, 2019

Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret,
and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God.
         Is there a hunger in you that presses to hear the word of life?
         Give it permission. Let it move you.

He saw two boats there at the shore of the lake.
He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon,
and asked him to put out a little way from the shore.
Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.
         How might God be asking to make use of your life?
         In all your challenges, give thanks
         that the Beloved is in the boat with you.

When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon,
“Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”
         Do you hear God inviting you to go deeper?
         Where are those deep waters?

Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long
but have caught nothing.
         Where do you experience discouragement, weariness, emptiness?
         Imagine Jesus there. Imagine grace hidden there.

Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.”
         Have you ever done anything purely because God asked you to?
         Are you willing to?
         What might God be asking to you do?

When they had done this,
they caught a great many fish.
         Imagine that you were to receive what you long for.
         Imagine it is already there, beneath your vision.

They caught so many fish their nets were beginning to break.
         Are there ways your success weighs you down?
         Do your possessions swamp you?

So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them.
         You are not in this alone.
         Who is with you?

And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.
         God’s overabundant grace can ruin your old life.
         Let it be so.

When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying,
“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”
         Do the abundant riches of God’s grace leave you feeling unworthy?
         Get up.
         Do you sense the gap between God’s grace and your living?
         Rather than reject the grace, conform to it.
         
Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid;
from now on you will be catching people.”
         This is not your work, but the work of God in you.
         You are not the fisher; you are the bait.
         Imagine what God can do through you.

When they had brought their boats to shore,
they left everything and followed him.
         What do you need to let go of?
         Remember you are not being sent off;
         you are being invited to follow, to stay close.

   —February 5, 2019

The bird comes close
and dodges
near and away
around the morsel
of silence
in the palm of a still hand.
It will take time
for the bird to come close,
time for the bird
to take the morsel
it’s hungry for.

It requires
for a long time
wanting
nothing else.

I am grateful
you hold so still.

   —February 4, 2019

         …the greatest of these is love.
                  —1 Corinthians 13.13

Beloved,
I am a vessel of your Spirit.
Empty me of all but your love.
May your tender self-giving
flood my soul, wash away my fear
and embolden my heart.
May my whole life flow with your love,
humble and powerful, gentle and strong.
Each moment may I seek to serve and to bless,
to heal and to set free all whom I meet.
May this be my only work,
my strongest desire:
not to be right, not to be safe,
not to be approved, but to love,
especially with those with whom it is hard;
for it is love, your love alone, that saves me
and makes me whole.
May the love of Christ live in me
with every word and every breath.
Amen.

   —February 1, 2019