Month: April 2020

Friend, the Holy One has raised you
from all that kills you
out of pure love.

Not to satisfy some law or divine obligation,
not due to your deserving—
no, for much better reason.

The Beloved wants you. That’s it.
Wants all the you of you
and so raises you from the not-you.

The Delightful One joys in you,
savors you. Yes, you.
Licks the spoon of you.

God raises you because
no matter what has come of you
God always wants seconds.

_______________
Weather Report

Delightful
(delight being in the heart of the Beholder),
as the warm, moist breath of love
passes over us and condenses in blessing,
and the Light within the light
falls upon us, beautifying everything.
Expect intermittent periods of joy and gratitude.

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

April 16, 2020

         Thomas (who was called the Twin), said to them,
         “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands,
         and put my finger in the mark of the nails
         and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
                           —John 20.24, 25
 
Thomas, brother in agony,
may I be your twin
as you are his:
and reach for him
where it hurts,
let that electric pain leap in,
connect in that opening,
touch the wound and bless;
as he reaches us
in our guilt, our anguish,
our still bleeding despair,
and offers the assurance
of his living.
He puts his hand in my side
and touches the marks of the nails
in my soul
and so I know
he is alive,
and my Lord,
and I am alive,
forgiven,
truly risen.

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

April 15, 2020

O God of Life, I beg you, thrive in me
that I may neither slight nor bow to pain,
but may by grace with calm serenity
accept life’s hurts and losses and its strains,
the doubts, the hidden outcomes of my toils,
as Christ walked lovingly toward his grave
full knowing that the struggle is the soil
where seeds burst forth, where you emerge to save.
God, may your resurrecting grace be strong
in me that I may face uncertainty
with patience and a life-affirming song
that blesses both the listeners and me.
From all I fear, Beloved, may I rise,
your love and courage shining in my eyes.

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

April 14, 2020

        Death no longer has dominion. 
                          —Romans 6.9

Ah, Death, poor Death, we respect you
and the empire you have established;
we honor your wide jurisdictions
and observe your feasts and seasons.
But we don’t belong to you.
We don’t believe in you.

We don’t fear you or your armies
and their horrible weapons, their wars,
their plagues and pandemics.
For Jesus, bearing our souls,
has walked through you like smoke
and out the other side.
Our Christ, in love, has taken you in chains.

With him we have already died —
we have already died—and been raised,
and passed beyond your power.
Come early as you may, you are too late for us!
Our funerals are acts of happy sedition
in your sad, decaying empire:
for every funeral we hold, dear Death, is yours.
We live not under your sway, but life’s,
and love’s eternal breadth
crammed into this brief span.

We mean no disrespect
when we sing joyous songs at your wake,
when we dance on your grave,
our precious, departed Death.
We tell you plainly our power:
in love, poured out in us,
we are free even in your pallid grip
to love, to sing, to rejoice.
Ah, Death, dear Death, come take our hands
and join the dance of life.

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

April 13, 2020

In the beginning
God said Let there be light
and the light entered the darkness
and changed it forever.
The darkness is still dark,
but full of light;
and the darkness
cannot limit the light.

And now God has said Let there be life
and the life has entered death
and changed it forever.
Death is still death,
but full of life;
and death cannot limit life.

Christ has died
and entered into our death
and changed it forever.
Christ is risen,
risen into us,
and we are changed forever,
the Body of Christ.
We are still ourselves,
but full of Christ,
and the self cannot limit
the Christ in us.

Christ is risen;
we are risen indeed.

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

April 12, 2020

         The women followed, and they saw the tomb
         and how his body was laid.
         Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments.
         On the sabbath they rested according to the commandment.
                       —Luke 23.55-56

The grave, how anguished a stillness.
A seed not moving. Not even trying.
The actual weight of zero,
the mass of absence.
Too late now for watches
in the watches of mourning’s
unhurried gestation.
Soil slowly draws the flesh
into its loving embrace,
its soft, dark bed.
Those remaining do not remain
but are changed
no less than the remains.
If there is a birth canal
might this be death’s?
Grief gradually becomes
not a road but a landscape,
and then a road,
a wanting become waiting
for what is
but is not yet revealed.
The stone not yet rolled
from the womb,
not knowing what,
only that
something that is still shall be,
the mystery unveiled
only by losing the veil.
Waiting but only for this moment.
The quiet leaves coming to,
and the weeping of the women
under the small-birded sky.

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

April 11, 2020

Gentle One,
forgiving to the end,
you climb the cross of my making,
bear my judgment,
receive my evil,
returning none.

Man of sorrows,
acquainted with grief,
you suffer my wounds,
utter my cry,
descend into my tomb.

Risen One,
un-flesh-bounded,
you surrender wholly to me.
Christ in me,
unfearful of my cross,
I surrender to you.

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

April 10, 2020

         “This is my body… this is my blood” 
                 —Matthew 26.26

You pour the cup,
your heart;
I take and drink.
Your blood
becomes my blood,
my lintel sign
to bid the angel pass over
this night of plague,
that all be free.
You break the bread,
my heart;
I take and eat.
The Word made flesh
becomes my flesh.
Now I am moved
not by my will
but your unleavened
will to love.
You take the basin,
wash our feet;
the water swirls,
and in your pierced
divine humility
in you I pass
through the great Red Sea,
free from the Pharaoh
of my fears and wants,
free to serve—
by which miracle
does justice come,
and we are saved.

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

April 9, 2020

          Jesus went with them
         to a place called Gethsemane;
         and he said to his disciples,
         “Sit here while I go over there and pray.”
                  —Matthew 26.36
 
While we self-isolate,
fear-stupefied,
he prays.
Not for himself,
but for love of us.

Soldiers arm up and move out.
But he prays.
Not for safety but for love.

Death walks quietly,
jingling its keys,
but he kneels, still,
praying not for life
but for love,
for you.

Sit here while he prays,
while he pours out his heart
for you and your life
and death and life again.
Let his prayer wrap itself around you,
hold you to his heart,
still praying for you,
bearing you like a cross
through the dark valley
and beyond.

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

April 8, 2020

                  Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard,
         anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair.
         The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
                           —John 12.3 

Mary pours out her ointment―
as Jesus, not clinging,
out-poured himself―
pours out herself,
fragrance of love and sorrow,
no second-hand words to borrow,
only kindness and loveliness
for his kindness and loveliness,
washing with such fierce love
feet before they’re pierced,
her perfume poured out
of a broken open soul
in love made whole
that confounds the others,
befuddled brothers,
her world-healing salve
simply this: in the face of death
to offer tenderness.

Mary, pouring out yourself,
your flask now empty
as a grave,
your sweet baptismal bath
so gently drowning death:
pour out your holy oil
on me
and from my jar of fear
and self
pour me all out
and set me free.

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

April 7, 2020