Quiet

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
                  
Nameless, hidden,
unbeckoned, you are present.
Too quiet for me to overhear.

I enter the clearing,
the frog slips into the pond,
the turtle ducks inside,
the bird falls silent.

After my thoughts and askings
I return to stillness and silence
for a long time,
a long, quiet, waiting time,
before you might murmur.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Sixty years

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
I am grateful to have lived sixty years
through so many avoided disasters
and unaccomplished endings,
to have lived, and lived to tell about it,
to have loved, and to have been loved deeply,
which is is no small thing.

I am drawn through the labyrinth of years
toward the Beloved, possessed.
It is not so much a journey or a lesson,
as the receiving of a gift,
the richness of a rose still opening,
a long unfolding of love.

I am grateful to have learned
that wisdom costs, and comes slowly,
that I have been given more than I can know.
Sixty years is long enough to see
that the universe is expanding in me,
species evolving, tectonic plates moving,
creation in its eighth day.
Long enough to to have died a couple of times,
and finally begun living, long enough
to have begun to arrive in the present moment,
long enough to get over being old
for simply being here.

After these years I know less of the mystery
and trust it more, the Presence
whose revealing is my life.

My death and I grow closer every day,
and every day there is more life in me.

After sixty years so much has accrued
and been lost, there is nothing left but joy.

What is next I cannot know, but trust.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Forgiven

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
         
You lay disdain as a cloth
over your cracked table.
The flowers in the vase are no testament.

Your outcry at the intruder’s little infractions
is swallowed by the great heartbroken silence.
It is a ruse, a distraction from what is
actually happening to you— but only for yourself.

God has taken no notice,
kneeling at your feet in forgiveness,
washing them clean with her tears,
wiping them with her hair,
anointing them with pierced hands,
kissing them and kissing them.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

The gift

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
A woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.”
                  —Luke 7.37-39

There are those who have it all together,
but you are not among them.
Maybe you’ve been told, or maybe
you simply know. Something in you
keeps failing. Something in you
can’t stop crying. In a language
you don’t understand. Maybe, worst of all,
you think you’re fine, but you’re not.
But there is definitely something wrong with you.
And you come to Jesus like this crazy woman
who clearly does not know how to come to Jesus,
raw and naked and a little off,
and you give him your raw, naked, way-off feelings,
your flimsy prayer, your strung-together faith,
your totally inappropriate self—
and he stops, and in the long silence
he leaves the others to their nice dinners,
their keys to cities and all that glory and praise.
He’s more in love with broken hearts.
Eyes closed, faint smile, he gives you this gift:
that you don’t need anything at all,
that you have, and are, something delightful to offer,
which he receives and loves and holds to his heart
the rest of his suffering days.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

A dozen eggs of forgiveness

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
                  
Release yourself from the burden of resentment.
See how much energy it takes?
Lay it down.

Break free from the limits of being compensated.
No one could pay what it was worth anyway.
Let yourself be a gift.

Come out of the tomb of the past.
Why keep repeating Act I?
Let that scene be over now.

You can live in this imperfect life
or sleep through it with nightmares
of how it was supposed to have been.

You are dancing, not fighting.
People crash into you.
Keep dancing.

Don’t chain yourself to what you deserve,
which is so small and heavy.
Receive what is given, which is infinite.

What’s wrong with you? Nothing.
You haven’t been damaged after all. Still there.
Well then don’t mess yourself up with bitterness.

Life is full of troubles. Always was.
Don’t add to it by calculating whether yours
are somebody’s fault.

The only one who can dishonor your soul is you.
Don’t do that for anybody. Carry on
as if you have been honored. Because you are.

What if there is only one forgiveness, yours and theirs,
and it’s not divided? What if they are as forgiven as you—
and you are infinitely so? Will you accept it?

You have both been rescued and are fighting for a place
in a lifeboat that is not yours,
a boat much more spacious than yours.

What if your compassion were so great
that you loved them despite their misdeeds?
Or is that lack what you’re really angry about?

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

I am the darkness

         
                  

Friend,
I am the darkness
into which you flow
and so become your light.

I am the silence in which
your voice echos.

I am the door
where the three strangers enter my life.

I am the crack through which
the whole world seeps in.

I am the pitcher
into which you pour yourself
and pour out into the world.

I am the garden
where you are buried.

I am the friend you reach for
in the dark.

I am the lover
you are so passionate about.

I am the one you have so taken for yourself
that all I can say of myself is
I Am.

                  •

         
         

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Marriage

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
Thirty three years ago today Beth and I became partners for life. Beth has been the greatest blessing in my life, and being married to her the second greatest. Protestant as I am, marriage for me has been more of a sacrament than a social contract. It’s a living parable of God, of faithfulness and presence and constancy. For me Beth’s faithfulness is a taste of God’s. And when I experience my own attraction to Beth, and attraction to being faithful, out of love, not duty, I taste God’s love for me, for all of us, and my love for God. And I touch that mystery we call the Holy Spirit, God’s love alive in me.

Part of the blessing of marriage has been discovering the depth of what it means to be faithful— not just faithful to her, by “not cheating,” but faithful with her. It means being fully, honestly, lovingly present for her. It means being myself, my authentic self, with her. It means living in covenant, in partnership, not just association. Although I am a whole person, and I do not have an “other half,” I discover my wholeness in community, in covenant, in relationship. Discovering my whole self is hard work, since there’s a lot of me I don’t want to see. But we’re joined; there’s no escape. This is good, because it’s sometimes hard work, and kind of ugly. But I have to stay and learn as Beth reveals stuff to me, and do the same for her. And in the process we both become more fully ourselves, more deeply in love, and more beautiful.

When I think of my fault and failures, the fact of Beth’s faithful love for me is really a miracle. To atheists I say, fine, if you don’t believe in God, believe in that. Whatever mystery it is by which Beth faithfully endures being drawn into my disasters and wounded by my dysfunctions, still gently loving me— believe in that. Whatever it is that evokes faithful love out of my otherwise disordered and distracted heart, believe in that. It’s real.

This is how God loves us, tenderly revealing ourselves to us, enabling us to become our full, deep, authentic selves, never giving upon us, enjoying being with us, not in obligation but because deep down, God is actually totally in love with us. God has said, “You are mine, and I am yours.” The Holy Trinity says, “I will be true to myself only in being true to you.” Give thanks for this grace. And whether you are married or not give yourself to living in loving faithfulness to the world. It is life’s richest blessing. Now excuse me; I’m going to go buy some flowers.
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Let me see

         
         
                  
Beloved,
let me see with your eyes.
Let me see myself clearly, no shame,
no expectations, just a soul being me.

Let me rise above myself and see
as my own observer, over my shoulder,
see others and their worlds,
not centered in mine.

Let me see the universe, and me in it,
all just as glorious as can be,
me and the suffering ones, and the haughty,
and my enemies, there among the stars.

Let me see the world beyond me,
outside my little grasp, the world
without me, before I came, after I am gone,
whole and beautiful.

Let me see with your hope,
your delight, your compassion.
Let me see with the eyes of one
who loves what you have made.

Beloved, let me see with your eyes
until I disappear, and there is only
you, your eyes, your infinite heart,
gently seeing.

         

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

He gave him to his mother

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         

As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.

                  —Luke 7.12-15

She had lost a child— that most hollowing grief. He was her only son, her only way to pass on what she meant to the world. She was a widow, sorrow already having come and made a home with her. She was now without family, without a way to survive in the world. Though a stranger to her, Jesus, the Compassionate One, felt her anguish with her.

There is something fundamental to who we are, a part of us we believe we can’t live without, why it is that we are alive, what it is that we have been given to give to the world, how we shall go on— it is the child within us, the offspring of our heart, the self we hope to be. And sometimes it seems that it’s taken from us. To some degree maybe we all are grieving the loss of the Child, the hope of our souls, the Love of our Life.

But the Child, our hope, our Beloved whom we have lost, God restores to us. This story of Jesus copies the story of Elijah raising the widow’s son (in 1 Kings 17), ending with the same words: “He gave him to his mother.” It’s not just a miracle, it’s a gift, a personal gift. When our inner Beloved, our heart’s Child, has been taken from us, the Compassionate One touches our grief, stretches out upon our sorrow, and restores to us the Love we had lost. God’s work is to renew, to restore, to return life to us.

And to return us to life. For we are really the ones who are revived. We ourselves are God’s Beloved Child, who have in ways died, lost our life. There is, as the Elijah story says, “no breath left” in us. And God restores us to life. It often takes a long time. But we are brought back to life. It is a gift, a miracle. And the Healer will give us to our Mother.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

Presence

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
                  
Indwelling God,
the morning light is your presence.
You hold me.

I breathe in
and your presence fills me,
blessing every cell,
seeking my heart.

I am present for you,
willing and open.

In all whom I meet
I look for your presence;
I listen for your voice.

In all that I do
I embody your presence,
and bear you into the world
like the fragrance of flowers.

Every moment
my soul is receiving you back to its own.
I am giving you back to yourself.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail write to unfoldinglight8(at)hotmail.com

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