Month: October 2023

           “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,
           and to God the things that are God’s.”
                         —Matthew 22.21

And you, made in God’s image,
stamped with God’s fingerprints,
the likeness of God‘s love,
give yourself, who are God’s, to God.
Let God alone spend you.
Only God knows what you have been saved for.
But whatever it is, you will be well spent.
Release yourself into the hands of the Gracious One,
and trust.
You are worth much.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 0:57 — 1.3MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

Dear grieving God,
thou infinitely broken-hearted,
how gracious of you that you abide with us
when we are so cruel,
that you hold us faithfully
even as we destroy each other
and wound your Creation,
that you give us your heart even as we break it.
For not a tear falls that does not wet your cheek,
not a soul suffers that does not pierce your soul;
and yet you remain with us, and hold us in your arms.
Still you adore us and delight in us.
You gather our hope and our death in your mercy,
you gather our past and our future in your blessing.
And even now you believe in us,
who betray your hope— and yet bear it in our souls.
We are sorry for so deeply wounding you.
And we thank you, O Mystery of Love,
that you are for us even when we are against ourselves.
O God, Creator and Re-Creator of Life,
O Mourning One, O Confident One,
you who hold all as One,
hold us to your breast,
that we might hear your heart beating there.
For only in your broken heart
will we find our joy.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:49 — 2.5MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

My lungs have
the whole atmosphere of earth
surrounding them
and they keep breathing,
asking for more.
My organs and tissues, bathed in blood,
crave it, the blood
that keeps flowing, that keeps them alive,
my vessels opening wide for more.
My heart keeps pumping,
asking and giving,
taking in and letting go,
always wanting the next handful,
always wanting more.
Is this prayer, I wonder,
the enfolding presence
and the insatiable longing?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 0:58 — 1.3MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

Blessed are you
who guard your joy tenderly
because you’re also heartbroken for the world.
Blessed are you who, in passing moments,
feel a flutter of dread
for what is larger than you, but more threatened,
for oceans and forests, peoples and generations,
and how they might suffer,
and how you could ever let them know you loved them.
Blessed are you when you see the child on the news
and something in you collapses a little.
Blessed are you when you wake in the night
with worry for the world,
with sand in your throat for weeping
and yet who carry on in hope.
Blessed are you, for your hope is not wishing,
but trust in the unseen, already rising.
Hold your thread of grief, and do not let go;
follow it into the darkness. It will guide you.
It will not sap but strengthen your courage.
You will go on. You will be true. You will be blessed.
Your very breath is the hope of the universe moving in you.
And still, beloved, guard your joy tenderly.
It, too, is holy.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:41 — 2.3MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

How many angels, they would debate,
can dance on the head of a pin?
As stated, it’s a foolish question.

Wise ones would respond: It depends.
Is the pin resting, still, on a table?
Or in a drawer nestled with other pins
and thimbles and sewing needles of various sizes,
bobbins and threads and scraps
about to become something beautiful?
Are you holding it in your fingers,
and it is trembling ever so slightly?
Is it holding the hem of your dress,
and it feels how you move
as you twirl about in the warm room?

The wise would respond:
it depends on what kind of dance.
Is it a jig, a country reel that needs a little space?
Is it a ballet that can require a whole stage for one dancer?
Is it a slow, romantic number,
the angels holding each other close,
feeling each other‘s bodies, hearing each other breathe,
hardly moving, gently swaying in one another’s love?

The wise one would respond:
only someone far, far from the pin could ask that question.
More to the point, they would ask,
why are you not dancing?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:34 — 2.1MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

           The realm of God may be compared
           to royalty who gave a wedding banquet for their firstborn.
                         —Matthew 22.1

Yes! It’s a party.
All of life is a celebration,
a festival of joy.

And it’s not just a tailgate party:
it’s for a wedding,
honoring love and faithfulness.

The one throwing the party is God,
and the one being honored is you,
and the one you’re marrying is … God!

See what a wild party it is?
And everyone is invited.
Everyone.

Some think themselves above it,
and some think others are beneath it,
but we are all in it.

You don’t have to be all dressed up,
or appear a certain way.
So what wedding clothes are required?

The irony is, no costumes. The real you.
Nothing fancy, formal or impressive.
No religious bling or academic regalia.

Simply this: party clothes!
Nothing else is quite right.
Nothing else fits the joy of the day.

Do your duds restrict your movement?
Are you prepared to celebrate?
Do you have on your dancing shoes?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:34 — 2.2MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

Creator of the Many and the One:
we are all here, we and our siblings,
and we ask your blessing on us all,
especially the ones we have tried to dominate,
the ones whose land we have taken,
the Wabanaki, the Cherokee, the Shoshone….
We have tried to eliminate them,
the Pawnee, the Assiniboine, the Salish….
but they are here;
we are here together in the land.
Our siblings have not rebelled against us,
but they are with us in peace,
the Tlingit, the Inupiat, the Hopi….
They have stewarded the land for ages,
the Maya, the Tekoha, the Massai…
and they are here, teaching us.
They have honored their wisdom
and passed it on for generations,
the Cree, the Lakota, the Seminole…
and we would learn from them.
Bless our siblings of the earth,
the Wiradjuri, the Maori, the Sami…
and move us toward humility and reconciliation,
to learn, to make reparations, to work together.
Move us toward mutual respect,
and restore among us the harmony
of siblings in one beautiful home.
God of the One and the Many,
bless our Manyness and make us One.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:49 — 2.5MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

Poets speak of the angry sea,
the mighty waterfall.
We marvel at the power
of torrential rain,
the strength of a flood
that upends lives.
But, friends, it’s just water.
It’s not angry.
It’s only resting, or trying to.
Falling down.
Surrendering utterly to gravity,
seeking the lowest point,
allowing itself to be dropped,
pushed, blown, spewed.

You needn’t have great power.
But be mindful of the power
that moves you.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 0:57 — 1.3MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS

The bees don’t mind my being here,
they hum around my hands and move
so calmly, patient, hovering near
their flowers with their special love,

ignoring me deadheading blooms,
with purpose they each bow, then turn
as servants move from room to room,
or altar boys with incensed urns.

We both perform our sacred tasks,
the gestures of our separate prayers,
each trusting each, and no bee asks
me of my thoughts nor I of theirs.

We never question how or why
each has their own peculiar grace;
each has their way to beautify
our little corner of this place.

We know there is a mystery
we both belong to, they and me,
not grasped by either me nor bee,
but, grasping us, makes us this “we.”

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:11 — 1.6MB)

Subscribe: Spotify | RSS