Category: Reflections

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
      
         He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan;
         and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
                  —Mark 1.12-13
                  
Someone left the trail and showshoed off through the woods and over the frozen marsh. They took a curious, wandering path, often cutting oddly close to bushes instead of around them, taking funny little detours as they circled the marsh. I followed the trail. For several days I hiked the circuit. I wondered what those people were thinking— but I liked how whimsical it was.

Then one morning I saw the prints of a fox in the path, all the way around. And it hit me: the fox was not following our path; we had followed his. I was following obediently in the daily route of a wild animal.

I usually am. I follow the leadings of all kinds of “wild beasts”— inner urges, fears, habits and desires that I’m not aware of. They themselves are not evil; but mindlessly following them, I wander away from God and do hurtful things.

The path is not laid out for me. I have to chose it. This Lenten journey with Jesus in the desert, the journey of repentance, is not self-punishment. It’s self-awareness. It’s recognizing the wild beasts that influence me, and being intentional about the path I choose, listening for the voice of the Divine and following that instead of my random urges.

The fox is a beautiful being, a creature of God. And I will follow his trail again tomorrow morning. But that path is not the way home.

         
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.
      
         The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.    
         He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan;
         and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
                  —Mark 1.12-13

Spirit,
drive me out
into my solitude,
my desolations,
my discomfort.

Set me down
among the wild beasts,
fears and hungers
pawing around inside me.

Put me at peace with them,
not the master but the saved,
the one to be tamed,
to listen to them,
lie down among them,
and go my way,
returned
to my feral innocence.

They will roam my wilderness,
I will learn their eyes,
I will live differently.

Among them,
who also answer,
are angels who attend
to those who wander there
so that we will.

         
         
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.
      

This snow, deep but fine like ash
drifting over your sidewalk
will be gone in weeks.
But you shovel it today anyway
because today you need to walk out of your house.
You shovel it while it is snow
before it is regret.

Before it melts
this short life is yours
to choose well with,
what to shovel, what not to shovel.
Hard to do, to put your shoulder
to the work of compassion
when you could stay in.

So many conflicting winds
would drift your life
into ruinous places.
Only the warm energy of life
guides you, carving out
this path and not another.

Mortal,
pause amidst your labors,
and receive the grace you need.

Remember you are snow,
and to snow you shall return.

         
         
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.
      
         
Shrive: to hear a confession;
       to impose penance; to grant absolution.

Shrove Tuesday, our fifth snowstorm
in as many weeks.
In three feet of snow,
plowed shoulder deep beside the roads,
along the driveways,
we confess that we are human,
that we are weary,
the streets lined with quadriplegic cars,
that we are small, dependent, fragile.
The knife wind comes down on us
where we are tender.
We confess our bondage
to the narrow paths we’ve dug,
and keep digging.
Winter swallows our voices, erases speech;
our chanting shovels confess
we are not masters.
The silver sun hears us,
assures us straightening between shovelfuls
that we are not evil,
merely afraid,
and notes how much of our snow
is now in our neighbor’s driveway.
The strangeness so oddly transforming our streets,
the need, the hardship
tempt us inward, swirling winds,
but beckon us to reconcile, to accept,
to bond, to help.
We shovel toward each other.
The crow and the fox
who also shiver bear our absolution:
we too belong, and carry out penance
for being human
in labor and toil.
Shriven under mounds of baptismal white,
we are not judged.
This is not punishment,
just life,
that we must shovel.

         
         
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.
      
        
As new subscribers to the Blizzard of the Week Club we were hit hard enough by the last one that yesterday we held no services at the church building. (Four-foot snowdrifts at the front door, six feet at the back.) But we didn’t cancel worship; we held worship in our homes, united in the Spirit. I was the only one at the church, praying for all our members in their half-submerged houses. And as I did I became increasingly aware of all those who are unable to make it into the holy of holies, who for any reason are shut out. The logical extension of any exclusivity is an empty sanctuary. Heaven with nobody in it.

It’s so easy to stay snug in our little burrows, and to take for granted our inclusion. But we are not whole as a church—we are not whole as the human family— until we are in solidarity with all those who for any reason are excluded. So today I pray for all who are home bound, imprisoned, or homeless; for refugees, for all those who are displaced by war or disaster. I pray for those who are kept out because of who they are—their sexuality, their economic state, their physical condition or abilities, their age or their religion. I pray for those who believe they are just not good enough. I pray for those who are left out of our decision making, kept out of our circles, left out of our stories, all those who are not in the building. Jesus looked at the outcasts, the invisible, the misfits and the scattered, and saw a community. I pray for the coming of the Communion of all Creation.

Pray without ceasing, and put your hands to the shovels of justice. There are deep drifts to clear before everyone can come in, warm and welcome.

         
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.

         
                  
One said prayer
is where you grow wings,
and rise to heaven.

Another said, no, prayer
is where you grow feet and hands,
and serve humbly.

But the angel with beautiful hands
said prayer
is where you grow eyes.
Look.

Then,
not prone to repeat himself,
he said,
Look.

Deep Blessings
Pastor Steve
______________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

To subscribe to Unfolding Light by daily e-mail
write to me at unfoldinglight (at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
      
        
As new subscribers to the Blizzard of the Week Club we were hit hard enough by the last one that yesterday we held no services at the church building. (Four-foot snowdrifts at the front door, six feet at the back.) But we didn’t cancel worship; we held worship in our homes, united in the Spirit. I was the only one at the church, praying for all our members in their half-submerged houses. And as I did I became increasingly aware of all those who are unable to make it into the holy of holies, who for any reason are shut out. The logical extension of any exclusivity is an empty sanctuary. Heaven with nobody in it.

It’s so easy to stay snug in our little burrows, and to take for granted our inclusion. But we are not whole as a church—we are not whole as the human family— until we are in solidarity with all those who for any reason are excluded. So today I pray for all who are home bound, imprisoned, or homeless; for refugees, for all those who are displaced by war or disaster. I pray for those who are kept out because of who they are—their sexuality, their economic state, their physical condition or abilities, their age or their religion. I pray for those who believe they are just not good enough. I pray for those who are left out of our decision making, kept out of our circles, left out of our stories, all those who are not in the building. Jesus looked at the outcasts, the invisible, the misfits and the scattered, and saw a community. I pray for the coming of the Communion of all Creation.

Pray without ceasing, and put your hands to the shovels of justice. There are deep drifts to clear before everyone can come in, warm and welcome.

         
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.
      
         When they looked around,
         they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
                  —Mark 9.8

Sometimes you forget to think,
to analyze and compartmentalize,
and instead you just gaze,
and finally you really see,
see the glory hidden in the ordinary,
the light in the stone,
the angelic being
in the person next to you.

Maybe righteousness
is not moral perfection
but seeing clearly,
with the delight and wonder
with which God sees,
seeing with eyes for holiness,
seeing the divine in people
and treating them so.

Maybe faith
is not certitude
but seeing what is truly before you,
seeing the bud in the bud,
the child in the child,
and remembering
even when you do not see.

Maybe enlightenment
is not understanding
but seeing the light
as if for the first time.

Maybe wisdom
is not knowing
but looking.

         
         
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.
      
         
                  
You sleep in sheets of snow,
blankets of snow, pillows of snow,
deep and cold,
until you are still
and your body turns white
and the wind moans
over your icy grave,
the song of the earth
over the silent earth.

And then in the morning
you are raised like the sun,
yellow and warm
and miraculous,
the splendor of heaven
beaming out from you
over the blue and white fields
with their birds, astonished,
who are no more entitled than you
to this radiant breach.

______________________
Weather Report

Light, unwarranted,
falling through the darkness.
Expect closures
of business as usual as citizens
deal with the accumulation
of resurrection.

         
         
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.
      
         
Walk past people sealed in their houses,
silence piled up on their roofs,
into the palimpsest of the woods,
thigh deep in the smoothness,
the substance of silence,
the weight of the light.
Snow in the trees, beneath the trees,
branches bowed with the bulk of heaven.
In the open field the white
spreads like a calm sea.
The brook admits you;
beneath you know you are walking on her back.
At the far end of the frozen marsh
stand among the falling constellations
until it is possible
to belong in the cold and quiet,
to be erased and redrawn,
to be a flake in this drift of silence,
blanketed by the softly falling presence,
covered in God.

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