Author: Steve

Dearly Beloved,Grace and Peace to you.

 

 

The Beloved
holds your feet.

 

The Holy One anoints them
with her tears.

 

Let the aroma of her joy
and sorrow fill your house.

 

Let her
hold you.

 

Even when they pierce
your feet with nails,
fragrance will spring forth.

 

 

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         Mary anointed Jesus’ feet.
         Judas said, “Why was this perfume not sold
                  and the money given to the poor?”
         Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it
                  so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.
         You always have the poor with you,
                  but you do not always have me.”
                           —from John 12.3-8

Jesus ponders his recent raising of Lazarus from the dead. He ponders the nature of death and mortality. He knows he is going to die soon. The future haunts him.

The disciples don’t see it, but Mary does. She anoints him with oil of comfort and healing, of protection and honor. A whole pound of it, a full jar, for that is how much she loves him. Even suspecting the sorrow to come, in this moment she pours out the perfume of her joy. She blesses these feet that soon will have to bear a terrible burden. The fragrance fills the house. And for this one brief moment in this long, brutal story, someone does something kind for Jesus.

Time stops; the moment shines. It feels good on his feet, good in his heart. For this moment he is at peace; he is loved. Mary has brought him from his memories and fears and responsibilities into the present moment—where there is overabundant blessing.

Jesus’s defense of her prodigal act is not ignoring the poor, or the disciples’ need to feed them. He is inviting them back into the present moment, where she has brought him. She is preparing his body for burial while she can. This is her chance. Jesus says, “You can help the poor as long as you live, and you should—but we are here, now, in this moment. You will not always have me.” Live in the present moment. Choose while you can. Bless while you can. Love while you can.

You will not always have each other. May God give you the faith to pour out the jar of your love this day, while you can. May it be for those who receive it a blessing for what they have suffered, or what is to come. May you find abundant grace in the present moment. Even now the Tender One is bathing your feet in her oil of gladness.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

         
         They gave a dinner for him. Martha served,
                  and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.
         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.
         Jesus said, “She bought it
                  so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.”
                           —John 12.3-4, 7

                  1

The losses you have borne,
the hill of skulls yet to climb,
         he knows.

                  2

Around the table the twelve celebrate.
His thoughts are elsewhere,
         still weeping outside that tomb,
         already weeping in Gethsemane.

                  3

Grateful, she who has lost
         offers a fragrant gift.
Seeing, anoints him as a prophet.
Wounded, comes alongside,
         covers his feet with healing balm
         for the nails to come.
Bowing, brings perfume for his tomb.
         Does she already know
         she won’t need it then?

                  4

Accompanied in pain and humiliation,
blessed for what is to come,
he will know
         to wash their feet.

                  5

Death and healing mingle
in our journey
         that is not for ourselves.

                  6

Between death and death
the fragrance of self-giving
         fills our house.

                  7

The cup, the font, the basin
         have shadows deep as a grave,
         light bravely borne.

                  8

Before your harrowing journey
         a baptism of tears,
         gentle hands on your feet.

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

 

Walking in the dark
you bump into something,
can’t say what.
But there’s light in it.

A gash opens on your leg,
blood trickling out, gently.
There’s light in it.

You cry out, your voice
trickling out into the darkness.
There’s light in it.

There is no answer,
only the soft thickness of the darkness
like an animal’s mane
and the light in it.

Your cry has a lump in it,
a lump of deeper hurt, very old,
not in your leg.
Yes, there’s light in it.

You go on in the dark,
wondering about all this,
and the wonder is like
a piece of candy in your mouth.
You don’t want to swallow it,
you just want to savor it.
And the light.

 

 

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

What reptile robbed the nest of me,
what godlike voice so unlike God said not
to call myself holy,
to know myself home?
What crafty serpent convinced me not
to know myself beautiful,
to trust myself beloved,
to feel myself enough?

A worse refusal than of my sin
is my sin itself, that cloaks the luminous.
I renounce the devil and all his ways,
his lies about what I’m not.

I can learn the poem of myself
even if its meaning escapes me,
being in a foreign language,
and chant its beauty in crowded streets.

On the long road home
through the desert of denial,
the wilderness of not seeing, not trusting,
the narrow path through the old ruins,
a great bird has flown up from me,
and leads the way.

 

 

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight (at) gmail.com

         
         
O Prodigal God, wastefully loving,
recklessly extravagant with grace,
excessively generous with forgiveness,
liberal with tender mercy and compassion,
lavish with hope and delight:
you shower us with love
that we are not prepared to receive.
You know the hurt beneath our fleeing,
the fear enclosed in our anger
and our clutching of what is deserved.
You embrace us freely and passionately,
free from our past, knowing and healing our pain,
in the present moment, celebrating.

You have recklessly given us your love:
may we spread it wantonly, give it all away,
spend it on the unlovely, waste it on the unworthy.
May we set aside our pride and practice delight.
May we claim again the siblings we have spurned,
and gladly celebrate those we have excluded.
May we offer hospitality to the unlovely,
forgive where it is unwarranted,
and love when it is unreasonable.

In your love may we love lavishly,
without exception or measurement.
Yes, it will break our hearts;
we shall be taken advantage of, and worse—
we shall be crucified, and only your love will remain.
And then for us, who have died and are alive again
you will give a great feast.
By your grace may this life be a reunion,
a celebration, a resurrection,
that in prodigal love we may know your joy,
your giving, dancing, feasting, running, embracing joy.

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

         “My child, you are always with me,         and all that is mine is yours.
         Now we have to celebrate and rejoice,
         because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life;
         he was lost and has been found.”
                  —Luke 15.31-32

My child,
do you know how much I love you?

I give you everything,
all that I have, all Creation.
It breaks my heart
when you turn away—
how many times a day?—
but I love you,
and I will give myself to you.
Come to me.

You may go to a far land or out into the field;
however far off you are I will see you.
I will come to you, shaking with love.
I will leave the party to come to you.
I will hike my robe up around my knees,
running foolishly, to come to you.
Do you know how I weep with joy?
Come home.

Rebellious or obedient, you are my Beloved.
I will silence your speech about just desserts.
I will ignore the wise advisors,
foolishly, extravagantly, over and over
I will offer you my best.
I will give you myself.
Come in.

Though you have turned from your brother
I will give you back to each other.
You who are dead to one another I will restore.
I will give you back your family.
I will bring you back to life,
give you back to myself.

When you break my heart again
I will still love you, still give you myself,
again and again forever, for the sake of love.
Come in,
for our sake.

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

          “Father, for all these years I have been working like a slave for you,          
         and I have never disobeyed your command;          
         yet you have never given me even a young goat          
         so that I might celebrate with my friends.          
         But when this son of yours came back,          
         who has devoured your property with prostitutes,          
         you killed the fatted calf for him!”
                  —Luke 15.29-30

I am older now.
I have done my running and returning.
Or never did, and regret it.

I ran without leaving,
and without returning.

Like my younger self
I have not sought you—
just your providence.
Like him I have not been a son to you
but a slave.
Like him I profess
why I should not come in to your house.

Forgive my self-righteous prayer.
Forgive me that I obeyed but did not love.
Forgive my belief in deserving—
both his and mine.
Forgive my leaving
for the far country of my anger.

Forgive my disinterest
in what pain made him flee,
what he suffered, what he learned,
what made him return.
Forgive me that I can’t yet say
that I missed him,
that I was afraid to be afraid for him.

Forgive my refusal to be kin
of those who seek, who wander,
who do not enslave themselves like I.
Forgive my envy of those
who receive you so easily,
my resentment of those who are forgiven.

Forgive me, and give me grace
to forgive him, to forgive you,
and grace even deeper to forgive
myself in my self-enclosure.
Defy my pious rant,
and bring me in to the party.
Make me your son after all,
for no reason but love.
Make me his brother,
for our sake.

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         There was a man who had two sons.
         The younger of them said to his father,
         “Father, give me the share of the property
         that will belong to me.” So he divided his property…
                  —Luke 15.11-12

Beloved, I ask for blessing,
for good things,
but not for you.

Desperate, in a “far land,”
apart from you,
my mind wanders, forgetting.
My heart wanders, hungry.
I am not evil; I am lost.
Where do I cry this loneliness?

Coming to myself—
befriending my soul,
becoming myself—
I belong to you.

I come back—
still asking not for you,
but for forgiveness,
for myself.

You wrap me in a robe of generosity
and still I have yet to find
language to thank you,
to love you, to want you.

I am still coming to the party,
still lost, still coming home,
to love you,
for our sake.

 

 

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
Ice on the lake,
wind in the trees.
Wind with winter’s muscle
but oddly warm, this early.

In the circle people wrestle with angels:
am ill-fitting religion,
the scar of abuse,
a shade that still stalks in the heart.
A fear, a wound, a distance,
a heart seized up but willing,
a longing finally named.

A warm wind blows through the room,
a book with a promise uncovered
like a secret pried from under the floorboards.
Why has no one ever told them this?

The ice gives.
Under the wind’s steady breath
the ice of a whole lake
splits and shifts and shatters,
piling on the shore.
Open water,
and in the little bays
a million crystal chimes
ring with joy,
even in February,
with storms yet to come,
singing praise.

+
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com