Author: Steve

I breathe.
I wake.
         I am grateful.

I see, I feel.
There are things to see and feel.
         I am grateful.

There are these that I love.
Some easy to, some hard.
         I am grateful.

There you are, hidden,
reading this, listening.
         I am grateful.

We are held in a great light,
larger, more gracious than us.
         I am grateful.

We are borne in a river of grace
that leaves nothing untouched by blessing.
         I am grateful.

Not minding the outcome, for this moment,
for its many generous pockets,
         I am grateful.

To You, Giving One,
who only give and only bless,
         I am grateful.
         I am grateful.
         I am grateful.
 

         Lay aside the works of darkness
                  and put on the armor of light.
                           —Romans 13.12

You need no stout defense,
no armor to shield you,
no iron bars to separate you,
neither silence nor harsh words
with which to push others away.
They are only a prison.
You need no weapons
that grow like thorns
from dark places in you.
You need only the light
that is in you,
the light of your belovedness
that holds you, unfailing,
the light with which you love
even those who can’t see.
Put on the light
and you become pure light.
Nothing can harm you.
The light of grace alone
will guard your heart and mind
even from the harsh stones
of bitterness and fear.
Put on the radiant armor
of the light of God
and walk fearless into the breach.

 

         They shall beat their swords into plowshares,
                  and their spears into pruning hooks.
                           —Isaiah 5.4

I bear them into conversations, my swords.
I hide them in my dark.
I launch them at the news, these spears.

Find them among me, God of Peace. Take them:
my bitterness, my defensiveness, my need to win.
Find the hidden swords, the secret spears I cling to.

Make them red hot in the furnace of your forgiveness.
Hold them in the tongs of your truth.
Beat them with the hammer of your love.

Take the hurt I mean to project, the defeat I wish others.
Free me of the swagger of hurtfulness.
Bend my righteous little swords into tools of life.

Let me stand before enemies with pure love,
prepared to break soil, to prune branches,
to do the hard work of growing peace.

For I will need stout tools to work this rough land well,
to bring fruits of justice out of this rocky earth,
to tend the muscular trees of mercy.

 

Holy One,
I lay upon your altar a stone,
      a feather, a cup,
      some rain, some words, some earth.
I set on your table a bowl,
      an unlit candle, a window,
      a fish still swimming in the sea.

These are my struggles, my joys,
      my gifts, my weaknesses, my sins.
They are my gratitude, my sorrow,
      my shame, my wonderings, my light.

Receive them with love,
      bless them with grace,
      and use them according to your delight.

The sun shines in upon the table.
I hear something in the silence.
      I hold it in myself,
      like the sun on the table.
 

         “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
          “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
                  —Luke 23.42,43

Not another time and place, beloved,
but here and now, today
you are with me in paradise.
In darkest times I give you my presence.
In deepest suffering I join you.
Paradise is not the world out there,
but our love shared
even through pain and terror, even death,
my love for you, my love in you, our oneness.

Jesus, remember me.
Make me again a member of your realm.
Make me part of your healing of the world.
Take me in.
I surrender to your absolute love.
Take me in.
In your hope for the world take me in.
Even in your suffering, take me in.
In your entering the pain of the world, take me in.
In your love, take me in.

 

         You, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
                  for you will go before our God
                  to prepare the ways of the Promised One,
          to give knowledge of salvation to God’s people
                  by the forgiveness of their sins.
         By the tender mercy of our God,
                  the dawn from on high will break upon us,
         to give light to those who sit in darkness
                  and in the shadow of death,
                  to guide our feet into the way of peace.

                           —Luke 1.76-79
 

You’ve been given a gem to give away,
a lantern in your chest that lights the path for others.
It’s not the dark stone of what’s wrong with them
but the bright key to their prison door,
the key that is light, the light that is the truth
that the door is not locked, that there is no door,
that they have nothing to fear from God,
that they are forgiven.
Only free from that cage can they live
without fear, in holiness before God.
Only that light will lead them through their darkness.
Only when they have received mercy
can they love mercy and do justice
and walk humbly with God.
It will not be easy to be such a prophet.
But you are free, and have nothing to fear.
The light is in you. Go.

 

         Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter
                  the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord.
         I will raise up shepherds over them
                  who will shepherd them,
         and they shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed,
                  nor shall any be missing, says the Lord.
                           —Jeremiah 23.1, 4

Ancient Israel was satisfied to trust that God appointed kings.
We aren’t so naïve.
It’s our choice.

Then what might this scripture mean for us,
who have chosen a shepherd,
and see a lot of destroying and scattering going on,
a lot of fear and dismay,
and some missing, or threatened with it?

Jesus shows us: the shepherds won’t be kings.
They will be the humble but courageous
who speak and act for justice and mercy,
who receive power not by coronation
but by the anointing of the Spirit.
We won’t look to the powers to save us.
We will look to one another to tend us.

And God will give might to their compassion,
and fill their shepherding with power.
God will dwell within their struggle for justice,
and speak in their voices.
God will raise up shepherds who set free the oppressed
and bind up the brokenhearted—
in their wounds and to each other—
who resist those who destroy and scatter,
who tend to those who are fearful or dismayed or missing.
God will anoint them and raise them up
and they will be the shepherds who heal the people,
and justice and mercy will rule.

The prophet’s cry is not a promise of comfort.
This is a call to action.
 

 

         Joyfully give thanks to the Holy One,
         who has enabled you to share in the light
         all God’s beloved ones inherit.
         God has rescued us from the power of darkness
         and transferred us into the realm of the Beloved,
         in whom our sins are forgiven
         and our lives are made complete.
                           —Colossians 1.12-14

The darkness is real.
But we are rescued from its power.
Light shines in us, shining in that dark,
light we do not earn and cannot keep,
but passes to us like the color of our eyes,
shining from the Beloved within us,
forgiving our darkness by filling us with light,
light of Creation that gives life.
In the night the light shines.
In the darkness the light rules.
In the deep darkness we give thanks.

We are not to generate the light
but to receive it.
We are not to vanquish the darkness,
but to shine in it.

We see the darkness without flinching.
We look the darkness in its dark eye,
and we are true to the light,
the light within us.

We pray that we may lead lives
worthy of our light.
 

         The soldiers also mocked him,
         coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying,
         “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!”
         There was also an inscription over him,
         “This is the King of the Jews.”
                  —Luke 23.36-38

An unrecognizable Messiah, this one,
whose power is hidden in defeat,
who lives in the Land of Not-Oneself,
who knows the secret kingdom of grace
and its magical powers.

We didn’t expect this kind of Mighty One,
without army or court or political victory,
whose throne is powerlessness,
whose palace is human suffering,
whose power is not domination
but to draw us into resurrection.

We still don’t quite get it,
chastened by our losses,
fearful of our destitution,
that this is the greater power,
Not-Ours, from the beyond within,
given, not seized, not even held,
not standing over us
but flowing through us;
that we are loved from beneath
to be of a different kind.

On our knees, stripped of our powers,
empty handed, we awaken
to this vast might, to our royalty,
and our waiting subjects.

 

         O give thanks to the Holy One,
                  for God is good;
         the steadfast love of the Giver of Life
                  endures forever!
         It is better to take refuge in the Lord
                  than to put confidence in princes.
         I was pushed hard, so that I was falling,
                  but the Lord helped me.
         The Lord is my strength and my might;
                  God has become my salvation.
         The Lord has punished me severely,
                  but did not give me over to death.
         The stone that the builders rejected
                  has become the chief cornerstone.
         This is the Lord’s doing;
                  it is marvelous in our eyes.
         This is the day that the Lord has made;
                  let us rejoice and be glad in it.
         Save us, we beseech you, O Lord!
                  O Lord, we beseech you, give us success!
         Blessed is the one who comes
                  in the name of the Lord.
         O give thanks to the Holy One, for God is good;
                  the steadfast love of the Giver of Life endures forever!
                           —from Psalm 118

The work has been no different since the beginning,
the thin golden thread through the chaos,
the dimly lit path through the valley,
the hand in the night:
to trust the Giver of Life in the darkness,
to trust the goodness buried in the terrible moment,
in every awful passage, every ending,
to receive the love that is given.
The test is only clearer in dark times,
to see the hollow illusion of princes
and forego their poisoned promises,
to come into this day in the name of the Holy One,
not in the thrall of our fears.
The stone they have rejected will be our foundation:
the Belovedness that cannot be destroyed,
the bond that can’t be severed,
hope and gratitude in the song we must sing
to each other as night falls.
For the Beloved walks with us
even through this, even through this.
When we hold each other we will know
the steadfast love that endures forever.