Author: Steve

I’m sitting on my porch reading the Bible.
A tiny bug, smaller than the letter i,
crawls across the page, its feet treading
on the name of God, the deeds of Christ,
its microscopic feelers touching
again and again the cries of the poor,
the prayers of the desperate and the faithful,
uncomprehending, unsuspecting
the vastness, the mystery, the grace,
crawling over the face of God.

You and I both, bug.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           In Mark 6 John the Baptizer criticizes Herod 
           for marrying his own sister in law,
           who, of course, resents John. 
           Herod’s daughter pleases him with a dance.
           He offers her whatever she asks. Mom says, “John’s head.”
           Herod complies.

It has all the sordid ingredients of a sinister thriller.
Power. Bitterness. Shame.
A whistleblower jailed.
Family dysfunction. Politics.
Wine, women and debauchery. Violence.
And a sexy dance number.

Doesn’t sound like a very good Bible story, does it? 
But this is not a detour from the gospel;
this is the context of the gospel.
This is the realm where the mercy of God works,
where courageous faith in God’s grace
meets the crass violence of this world.
This is where the gentle followers of Jesus
work their love and courage. 

We wish we lived in a peaceful world
with small problems.
But the world gives selfishness and fear great power,
and they kill people.
People do what they know is wrong 
till they don’t know any more, and they do harm.
And we live among them—not by default,
but precisely because they need us, 
and we have been given to them.
This word needs humility, generosity and grace.
For every Herod it needs a thousand Christs. 
To this, for this, we are sent. 
In the end, grace shall prevail. 
But be aware, it will be hard in the meantime. 

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes 
Unfolding Light
 www.unfoldinglight.net
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Because the purple clover
and the tiny sweat bee
appreciate each other
life goes on.

Your contribution to the world
doesn’t have to be
a great or small accomplishment.
It is enough—
it is glory—
for you to offer
mindfulness and gratitude.

You pollinate the world
with your attention.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Let’s make today true Independence Day,
not merely to congratulate ourselves,
but to practice independence,
to set ourselves free
from cultural, political and religious expectations,
and instead be true to ourselves,
and radically free with God.

Let’s make it Inter-Independence Day;
for none of us is a separate planet;
we are all woven together, races and creeds,
nations and continents and colors and flavors,
in one living community.

Let’s make it not just our own Independence Day,
for the freedom we cherish is still sought by many.
Let’s repent of the ways we ourselves oppress others 
and comply with systems that oppress.

Let’s make it Anti-Domination Day
for those who have less liberty:
for only by offering freedom to others
are we truly free. 

Let’s make it Responsibility Day;
for liberty isn’t guarded by soldiers:
it’s exercised by taking part,
and, by our actions, making this
a nation of liberty and justice for all. 

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes 
Unfolding Light 
www.unfoldinglight.net
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             He could do no deed of power there….
             And he was amazed at their unbelief. 
                            —Mark 6.5-6

Sometimes you mess up. Sure.
But sometimes when you fail
the failure is not yours.
Not everyone is ready to receive what you offer.
Let it go.

We’re called to be in conversation
with a hurting world;
sometimes the hurt
impedes the conversation. 

You are a vessel for grace;
sometimes even mercy
can be hard medicine to swallow.
Forgive them for it.

For those who need mercy: mercy.
For those who refuse mercy: mercy.
For you who can’t convey mercy: mercy. 

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes 
Unfolding Light
 www.unfoldinglight.net
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             He called the twelve
             and began to send them out two by two,
             and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.
                            —Mark 6.7

Beware the temptation to imagine
we must be given magical powers of exorcism.
We are given love.

The demons that plague this world
are not fantastical creatures with shadowy malice and twisted powers.
An “unclean spirit” is simply the fear of being unacceptable:
fear of powerlessness, fear of being oneself,
fear of not being enough, of not belonging, not deserving God.
These are the demons, and nothing more ominous or frightening,
that haunt even the greatest tyrant.

The love we are given
is stronger than all demons, though often slower to work.
Love overcomes fear and loneliness,
exorcises the anxiety of not belonging,
sets people free from torment,
free to join the giving-and-receiving of life.
It’s a slow, gentle medicine. But powerful.

We are given patience in the face of challenge,
courage in the face of injustice,
gentleness in the face of violence.
Authority over unclean spirits

Go out into this hurting world, and know
you are given a power greater than the demons of pain and fear.
Go with gentle courage. Go with love.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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In the green light of the trees’ stained glass windows
the ferns open the pages of their psalmody.
Patches of sun dance around on the ground.
The breeze talks to itself, ambling through the woods.
On the pond dragonflies move around, organizing things.
It’s a perfect summer day.

Tomorrow it will rain.
Soon enough the ferns will brown.
The time will come when the leaves go into the ground.
The time will come when I go into the ground.
But today is warm and calm. I am here.

In the evening I go out again.
In the clearing fireflies appear and disappear,
not in constant neon glare,
but little

perfect

flashes.



_________________
Weather Report

Immediate,
as the high pressure front
of this day
occludes the future
and evaporates the past,
precipitating into moments.
Showers of Presence,
beginning early morning
and continuing throughout the day.
50% chance of wonder.
Your call.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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There’s a bug in the house.
I don’t squash bugs;
I take ’em outside.
This one’s a tricky bugger:
it hops and jumps, scoots fast,
hides in cracks.
I’m trying to be kind.
I wish it would just hold still;
but I get it: it’s protecting itself
from this Big Scary Thing.
I’m after it with my big clunky fingers,
trying not to smash it
or break its legs or feelers,
a Keystone Cops kind of caper,
chasing it around the kitchen
on my hands and knees.
I finally get it. Out we go,
the bug cupped in my hands.
I’m thinking of God trying
to get me where I belong,
and how much easier for both of us
it would be if I would just
allow myself to be caught.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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God, give me patience.
She is an annoyance.
She is an interruption.
She goes on and on.
She hogs my time, oblivious.
She drains my energy.
If you won’t distract her, or at least
give me a nice way to dismiss her,
then give me patience.

Give me more than patience.
Give me love.
Help me listen like Jesus would:
to humbly give of my time and attention,
to listen to the whole story,
to listen for pain that may be unspoken,
for unnamed loneliness,
for the hunger to be heard,
to be attended to, to be honored.

She is a child of God; beneath the flow
of words, life wants to flow,
but needs to be received.
Give me the grace to attend as lovingly
as I would to my own daughter.

Gentle God, you who never tire of listening,
give me the miraculous power of healing
hidden in listening.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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You walk out, early morning,
and the first rays slide under
the rosy cheeks of the clouds,
light slanting between the houses,
the shadows gleaming,
light leaning against the houses
casually, like a teenager,
as if the sky is about to say something,
but you realize it’s saying something now,
and the soft thickness of the light,
the light like a voice, the voice of a woman,
a woman who loves you, echoes
between the houses, echoes in you,
light somehow inside you, echoing
with the sky, with, go ahead and say it,
the heavens. Inside you,
in the morning light.

Then the magic passes, but
you stand a while between the houses,
still, looking up into the tumbling gray sky
at least long enough to make known
the gift has been received.

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