Category: Reflections

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.” …. Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran.
         —Genesis 12.1-2, 4

God grants us lives that are more interesting than predictable. I’m only 57, not 75, but these days I feel like Abram: every United Methodist pastor serves under the appointment of their Bishop, and this summer my Bishop is appointing me to another church (in Acton, Massachusetts.) This will be our sixth move, so we’re used to this business of stepping off into the unknown. The temptation, of course, is to pretend that it’s not unknown: to imagine that I can just be the same and do more of the same, that I don’t have to learn or be anything new. That would be too bad.

We resist change and the unknown, partly because we fear loss. I’ll miss some friends, and my dear New Hampshire woods. But mostly we fear the loss of control, knowing what to do. Since we identify so deeply with our control, it feels like we’re losing ourselves. Well, in fact that is true, since we really are invited to become new people. Abram became Abraham.

But in all our travels and travails, in consolations and desolations, no matter what treasures are taken, or trophies given to us, through all our changes, even as we leave who we are behind and become new people, two things are constant. One is our soul, the holy core, the divine nucleus of who we are that cannot be taken away or changed. All God’s transformations faithfully honor our deepest self; they do not destroy it. Let all that is new and unknown strip away what is external and reveal your soul.

The second: God did not say to Abram, “Go find it.” God said, “I will show you.” This also is constant: the Holy Presence who abides, who lives so intimately with us that it is not above or beside us but within. When things about us are busy and changing, it takes time to sit still and go within to meet that Presence. But the Beloved is there. In all your changes, seek that holy seed of who you are, your eternal soul, and seek the One who abides within. And you will find that they are one, that your soul is of God, and yearns for God, and leans toward God. This mystery will accompany you through all changes and illumine the unknown. Go from Abram to Abraham. Go from merely having a soul to being one; let go of everything else—and no changes will trouble you.

No matter how far the lands where you roam,
your journey is always coming home.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

O Greening God, Spring be your praise!
         Praise be these warming, gentle days,

the evening light that lingers more
         each day beside her lover’s door,

the silent, ice-bound brook’s release
         to sing its melody of peace,

and snow-bowed limbs, now free, that lift
         their hands to thank you for the gift.

The lines of geese, mile after mile,
         are monks processing up the aisle

toward the altar of their nest
         while chanting psalms that we are blessed.

Your praise be sap in buds and roots,
         the courage of the small green shoots,

the breeze from warmer bosoms drawn,
         the songs of birds that thread the dawn.

O God of budding, birthing things,
         all rising up your glory sings—

all bugs that hatch, all smells that waft,
         all thawing, swelling, turning soft:

this is your praise, and may it be
         as in the woods, so clear in me.

Emerge in me, O Lord, like spring,
         that I may be the hymn you sing.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the Realm of God without being reborn from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can you enter a second time into your mother’s womb and be born?”
         — John 3.3-4

OK, class, settle down. After you all finish tittering about Nick’s silly question here—listen, it’s the same question you have, isn’t it? He gets our panic: in this being born again thing—I get to bring my old self along, right? He’s made the absurdity of it clear by using a biological image of climbing back into the womb and trying again, but the reality is spiritual: not just your body but your whole self, what you think is “you”— you can’t take it with you. When you are born again you don’t go back to some earlier point, you go onward. You die. You leave your self behind. You’re not just birthed again, you’re conceived again. You’re created. You’re a wholly new person.

Nicodemus’ question points out our deep attachment to our “self.” That attachment is what we call sin. Sin is living in the illusion that I can create myself, and that I do create myself, and that this self I create is worth defending. We assume that our self is contained in our body, and spend our lives wrestling with its limitations. We identify with our feelings and thoughts and beliefs, with our memories and personalities and accomplishments, as if that’s who we are. But who we are is an image, a little bit, a handful of God.

When we really, truly, madly, deeply love God, we love God even more than our own “self”—and we give that self over to God, along with the illusion that we are God, that we get to create and control our own self. In so doing we return to our true self, our soul. We allow God to create us, over and over again, in God’s good and beautiful grace, trusting, as she said the first time in Genesis, that is is “very good.” We are re-born, not by human will, but from God. “To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of human doing, but of God” (John 1.12-13).

To “believe” doesn’t mean to think. It means to give your heart to the One who creates you new, every morning you awake, every breath. So, Nick, the answer to your question is yes. Enter again into your Heavenly Mother’s womb, and be born again, and again, and again. The hard part is letting go of who you think you are, so that you are ready to receive it from God. (That’s what Lent is about.) Every moment we choose, we can let go of the person we have been trying to be, let the Beloved conceive us anew, and allow her to birth us into this world as newborns, beautiful babies, full of wonder, and swaddled in love for the Mother who gives us birth and life.
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

         
         

It begins in deadly hearts of stars,
in elements consumed, transfigured
in killing, birthing heat.

It begins deep within, in the murderous
seething of earth’s innards.

It begins with rock defeated, riven, worn,
stone creased and cracked and crushed
a million times, battered
to sand and sent on its silted way.

It begins in womb-dark murk and musk of soil,
in death and rot and rank decay,
in spilled seeds split and broken down,
in loss, collapse and festering,
by blessed unseen bugs and germs
digesting darkness into light.

In awful places this miracle,
this life begins.
Brokenness
becomes
something.
In darkness, deaths and desolations
is the birth of what shall be.

         
         

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve
_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”
         — John 3.19-21

And yet—
I hate the darkness and all that is unknown,
and I am afraid to look into my shadows,
where truth is, obscured.
I turn on the lights,
keep things entertaining and happy.
I await the equinox,
when night is pressed into a corner of the room,
when mystery is eclipsed.

— And yet as darkness turns out its pockets,
new things are revealed,
things that had been carefully tucked into the murk,
and I close my eyes.
I flee from darkness into the obscurity
of lights and sparkle and brightness and flash.

Sprit of illumination, draw me
into the holy darkness,
the shadows where dwell things that are true,
the nocturnal fears and memories
that I only see truly in their dark.

Give me courage to look behind the veil,
to reach beneath the pall,
to close my eyes and go in.

Blessed darkness, you who reveal
the stars, and the loveliness of the moon,
illumine me.
Christ, Loving Mystery, enigmatic brother,
walk with me into this good night,
where I am shrouded in grace,
where I stumble into the cross—
you, my dark friend, bearing my darkness,
nailed to my evil,
entombed in my gloom,
making of my shadows
a grave that cannot hold.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
I went to the desert last month. Not out west, but down in Boston. After her surgery, Beth was in the hospital for six days, and I stayed with her in her room and waited on her. For me it was a desert experience, a time when everything else was stripped away and life was reduced to the bare essentials of being present. For six days I retreated from my job and the busy world of multitasking, and entered into the blessed desert sabbath simplicity of monotasking: only doing one thing. I attended to Beth. That was all. Time meant little. There were days when I never even left the room, let alone the hospital. There were nights when I slept little, and days when I never got around to eating. I wasn’t fasting; I was just doing something else.

I’m not saying I was actually wholly attentive. At times I got restless, or distracted, or wanted to do something else. This is not about me, but the experience. It was very meditative. I loved the contemplative focus of just doing one thing, being fully present to Beth, and letting go of everything else. I loved the simplicity of it, the freedom from my wants and attachments. I liked being in that place of deep attentiveness. I didn’t mind if she was crabby or appreciative, or if what she asked of me was a little thing or a real effort. There was just one thing.

This is what Jesus went to the desert for. To each of his temptations he responded by deepening his attention to God. “We live not by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God…” “Do not put God to the test….” “Worship God, and serve God alone.” He was practicing monotasking, so that all he was ever doing was being attentive to God, loving and serving God.

I’m afraid I’ve slipped back into my busy, confused world since the hospital. I am not wholly attentive to Beth, nor to God. I am multitasking again. Whatever I’m doing I seem too often to also be doing something else. So I welcome the the Lenten season, when we go back to the desert. In prayer, fasting and acts of justice and generosity we practice loving attentiveness to God, to others, and to all the world. We stay present to Christ in his suffering, and serve him in all his incarnations, not to accomplish many things, but, in all we do, to love and serve God. God’s love for us becomes our love for others. Blessedly, beautifully, gracefully, our whole lives become one thing: God’s love in us.

May it be so for you this Lenten season.
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
         

God does not cause earthquakes. God causes compassion.

         Kyrie eleison.

We are small and fragile, and we need each other.

         Kyrie eleison.

God is the love that draws us toward each other.

         Kyrie eleison.

Sin is the fear that drives us away.

         Kyrie eleison.

This is life is a gift. Every moment is precious.

         Kyrie eleison.

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

         Kyrie eleison.

This day, this moment, is the time for compassion.

         Kyrie eleison.

Pray that you might become more purely loving today.

         Kyrie eleison.

When all of life and death have swept over us, love is all that remains.

         Kyrie eleison.

We hold our sisters and brothers in Japan in our prayers,
mindful of the great compassion that enfolds them,
the Infinite Love that weeps with them,
the life-giving Presence that sustains them,
the Spirit that holds us all as one.

         Kyrie eleison.
         
         

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness
to be tempted by the devil. 
—Matthew 4.1

God, I have a list
of stones to turn to bread,
things to accomplish today
and in my short eternity—
power to exercise.
But I relinquish my list, and my power
and receive from you alone.

Beloved, I have hired angels
to protect me from falling,
from being hurt, taking risks.
I want to measure your love
by my comfort and satisfaction.
But I renounce what shields me from love
and all its suffering,
from life and its losses.
You alone are my security.

Infinite Lover,
I’ve put earnest money down on the world,
furnished with everyone’s adoration.
It was counterfeit, of course,
but none of us knew.
But I let go of it all,
for your love alone,
pure gift, is all
that sustains me.

God, I would like to be God—
my God, for my sake, in my own way.
But I will be your creation
and you be my God.

Infinite Love, Mysterious Wisdom,
take my life from my hands,
my power, my security, my place in the world,
and place me, empty handed,
in yours.

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished.
         —Matthew 4. 1-2

Jesus went out into the desert to confront his temptations. He went to see his fears, desires and attachments more vividly, to name them and be more free from them, in order to become more loving.

The Spirit that led Jesus is also in us: Love that yearns to become perfected in us. In Lent we go with Jesus into the desert, not to suffer or wallow in guilt, but to see more clearly. We go to see our sin, in order to see through it to God’s love— and to get free of what inhibits love. We engage in Lenten disciplines in order to expose our temptations, to face our needs and fears and desires and attachments, to name the evil that is in us, and to see beneath them to our deepest, truest hunger, which is for God. We see our sin more clearly, and beneath it we see our belovedness. The more honestly we face our needs and fears, our failings and weaknesses, the more clearly we see how we habitually identify with them. But they do not define us; God’s grace does. So we pray and fast and give generously in order to see through the things that get in the way of our receiving and giving God’s love. And we let go of them, setting free the love that is already in us.

This Lent, go into the desert with Jesus to look at yourself honestly, to see through your sin, to see more clearly and become more deeply who you truly are: God’s Beloved, deeply loving.
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
We stand before the divine majesty of God
with dirt on our faces
as if we’re babies who can’t feed ourselves
little kids fresh in from playing with fire
fighting with each other

in a neat little cross
as if it’s on purpose
and not the stain of inattention
inability to keep ourselves up
smear of greed
slopping slipping in low places

as if it’s ice cream
not
ashes of our old palms
tragic underside of our praise
scar of all the times we got burned
not seepage sewage tears
blood spattered shed
wound of grief and shame
dirt from our own grave
soot of our cremation

This is the mess we show up in before God
who gazes at us
and the death on our faces

(it’s only after this
amazed out of our old life
that we die
shed our lives like skin
become for the first time again:)

who gently
licks her thumb
and wipes us clean
and says,

“There now.”

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net