Month: December 2023

           One is coming after me;
           I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.
                         —John 1.27

How to imagine one
who considers each of us infinitely worthy
to be even more worthy?

No mere saint or rock star,
more than a person,
the sap of all humanity
boiled down into the syrup of one person,
God poured into a human mold.
A huge bell tolling within us.

How do you welcome such a one into your life?
Groveling will not do.

Silence will.
Pay attention.
Kneel and observe a worm
until astonishment overtakes you.
Watch the human family with love
and amidst our babbling
listen for heaven’s voice.
Stand in the rain of the Beloved
and let it soak you.
Be still, and let the Mystery pour into your mold.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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          Among you stands one
           whom you do not know.
                         —John 1.26

A flock of birds sits in every branch of a tree,
in the exact shape of the tree.
Beloved, we are the shape of you, unknown.

If only we knew
how deeply you are already here,
whispering in our ears,
slipping wisdom into our hearts
behind our backs,
walking through the days
sopping up the suffering
that would be so much worse
if we weren’t accompanied.
Our healing flows in your veins.
You are our continent.
You haunt us with mercy.
Unknown, you sustain us.
Teach us to trust what we cannot feel.

What we await is not your arrival
but our awakening.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           They shall build up the ancient ruins…
                         —Isaiah 61.4

When you are surrounded by broken things,
when you find yourself in a barren place
of devastation and discouragement, take heart.
Blessed are you, for you have been sent by the Spirit
to do the work of love among ruins.
Blessed are you who mend the shattered,
who build up what’s been torn down.
Blessed are you who accompany the broken,
who stand with light and hope amid the rubble.

We don’t understand the stitching of wounded flesh,
the mystery that knits strands of death into life,
but in the splintered night you can hold the lamp,
you can bear, or at least bear witness to the love
that makes whole, that creates again,
that makes of these disappointed pieces
a new thing of beauty and glory.
The mystery is hidden in your being there.
Build up the ancient ruins, beloved;
the Spirit will guide and strengthen you.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

           The spirit of the Holy One is upon me,
           because God has anointed me;
           God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed.
                         —Isaiah 61.1


Beloved,
may your Spirit flow through me today,
that all I do and say may be good news to the poor,
offering power to the oppressed, healing to the broken,
courage to the despairing, freedom to the captive.
May all I do bring light to those who sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death.
May I be good news to all those
who hunger for gentleness and respect.
Anoint me with your kindness, that I may offer kindness
even to those who do not ask it,
your love to those who do not understand it.
May I be a faithful vessel,
for it is your Spirit, not my effort, that blesses.
By that Spirit, send me, God, to bear your grace to the world.
Amen.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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            Among you stands one whom you do not know,
            the one who is coming after me.
                         —John 1.3-4

The great paradox of Advent
is that we await the coming
of the One Who Is Among Us,
here already, profoundly present,
yet still coming, not done arriving.
Christ is not coming from a great distance,
inching closer to us from some far-off heaven,
but unfolding among us, within us.
We are pregnant with Christ,
who is here and yet who is coming,
whose presence is full and yet blossoming.

Jesus, silently gestating in us,
tender, innocent, dependent,
unknown, yet who loves us intimately
with infinite grace and wisdom.
Wait,
           and give thanks,
                                      and wait.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Star rising over me.
       Manger within.
              Word becoming flesh in my flesh.

The darkness of gestation.
       The waiting of faith.
              The silence of the holy.

Not seeing, not knowing
       what I shall be,
              though indeed I shall.

Open now,
       becoming ready
              to be changed.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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          Hanukkah begins this evening,
          recalling the restoration of the temple,
          and the oil in the lamp that burned for eight days.

Amid war and conquest, domination and violence,
O God, may the oil of your peace burn in me.
May your grace be the light in me that does not fail,
and love the lamp that does not go out.
May I have courage to be faithful in the face of difficulty,
to meet wrath with mercy and fear with compassion.
May my trust not falter, my hope not be extinguished,
my commitment to justice or my will for peace not run out.
I pray not for my strength but for your loving presence,
for despite all hopelessness or my despair,
you are the light that does not fail.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           In the wilderness prepare the way of the Holy One,
                      make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
           Every valley shall be lifted up,
                      and every mountain and hill be made low;
           the uneven ground shall become level,
                      and the rough places a plain.
                         —Isaiah 40.3-4


Love would move through me
but for the rubble and clutter I cling to.
God, move aside what needs to be moved.
Clear a way for loveliness.

Fire up the gentle bulldozer of your grace.
Put your little orange stakes of mercy where the road goes.
Mark what needs to be cut, and cut it.

Fill with your presence my pits of fear,
my potholes of discouragement and despair.
Level my piles of self-importance.
Smooth out my bitterness, straighten what’s bent.
Clear out what’s in the way of love.

In that wilderness in me, prepare the way
for your mystery to unfold.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,
but of course it’s not. It’s Advent,
the Season of Not Yet, a time of waiting.
Some dreams you work for;
for others you can only wait.
We can’t hurry The Time, we can only wait for it.
Sometimes the poet searches for the word;
sometimes they can only wait for it to come.

At the end of the musical piece,
just before the final note— the musicians pause,
for in that little pause the music arrives.
The magician knows, just before removing the veil
to reveal the amazing feat, just then—
… to wait a moment,
for it is in that moment that your heart leaps up.

In Advent we pin our hearts on what we’re waiting for,
and we rest our hearts in the waiting itself,
for in waiting is the meeting of the power of our longing
and our powerlessness, and there,
in the openness, in that magical blank space,
mysteries often happen.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.
           Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.
                         —Isaiah 40.1

My people,
as you light candles and sing songs
I hear your hope and longing, yes,
but do not minimize the darker songs beneath that,
the deep energy beneath your yearning:
your grief and your terror.

I see that shadow of what you have lost,
what you have done, what you fear of yourselves,
the looming threat, the smoking ruins.

My people, do not be afraid.
My arms are around you.
I murmur gently to Jerusalem
even in the throes of your fear and anger,
the rage, the devastation, the unthinkable.
I know. I see the splinters of the manger,
the swords of the soldiers,
the nails of the cross. I see them.
And I am coming, not to vanquish,
but to comfort. To heal. To hold you,
with you, always.

Even in your despair, be at peace.
Be still enough to hear me
speaking tenderly.

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