Category: Reflections

On the black still pond
big flakes drift down.
In the water
their reflections rush up
to meet them
perfectly at the surface,
a black garden of white stars
shooting upward.

Our little prayers rise up
to meet the great ones
that have descended
so far to us.

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

           Magi from the East came to Jerusalem,
           asking, “Where is the child
           who has been born king of the Jews?
                           —Matthew 2.1-2

The magi did not find the holy child in Jerusalem,
but among peasants, in a little town like all the towns
they had just passed through.

On my morning walk the icy rain whispered,
the dead leaves under the ice proclaimed,
my breath shone.

What if the divine unveiling awaits you,
the revelation ready to astound you
in every little ordinary thing?

A plant on a windowsill,
a child in the hallway may reveal to you
what words can’t convey.

Not spoken but given,
not a theorem but a presence,
not wisdom but being.

For Jesus it was lilies, and birds,
a stranger’s daughter, muddy Jordan water
and the air above the water.

What if glory hides, poorly disguised,
in a stone, a door, a question,
a word, a look, a silence?

Your heart is already searching,
the world is already holy,
the child is already here.

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

           Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan,
           to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying,
           “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”
           But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now;
           for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”
                           —Matthew 3.13-15

Did Jesus need to repent?
Yes. We all do, every moment.
Even Yo-Yo Ma needs to tune up.
To repent is to turn to God.
It’s not a one time thing.
We need to turn with every breath,
keep tuning in, tuning up with every note.

Jesus let his self-centered self drown
and be raised as a new person
with a new name, Beloved,
and he devoted his life to living that way:
that dying and rising each moment,
vulnerable to the Spirit’s leading,
in tune with God,
attentive.

           We have been buried with Christ
           by baptism into death,
           so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead
           by the glory of God, so we too
           might walk in newness of life.
                      —Romans 6.4

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

Love,
beneath my breathing,
beneath my heartbeat,
fundus of my being,
Word of the merest nerve impulse,
you are.

I am immersed in you.
I float deep in your blue-green silence,
your amniotic presence.

My singular “I” drowns;
I am birthed into you,
this singing light,
from womb to womb.

Fed on your umbilical love I rise.
I hear your voice, hymn of my life:
“You are my child,
my Beloved,
in whom I am well pleased.“

Now I am alive.

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

           On entering the house,
           they saw the child with Mary his mother;
           and they knelt down and paid him homage.
                           —Matthew 2.11


Grown men, powerful figures,
people with authority. Kings, even.
Bowed down. On their knees.
(King James says they fell down.
Says they worshiped him.)
Prostrate. Face to the dust.
Men of power, on the floor
for a peasant child, a toddler.

Stay there a moment.
Before the hymns,
the impressive gifts,
the pious symbolism,
stay in this silent moment of worship.

Let the authority in you
kneel down before the ordinary,
the poor and plain.
Let the wisdom in you
attend to the small,
bow before the simple.
Let the power in you
fall down—fall down—
in humble honor
of the fragile and tender,
the vulnerable, the meek.
In the little ones, not in the mighty,
is the glory of God.
Kneel, wise one,
and worship.

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

           Having been warned in a dream
           not to return to Herod,
           they left for their own country by another road.
                           —Matthew 2.12

For the oak trees New Year’s Day is just another day.
For the chickadee we have not turned a new year.

But we humans are creatures of hope;
we dare to believe that today is new,

that from this day forward
we can begin anew,

forgive and be forgiven,
learn, and unlearn some things,

step out of old ruts into new adventures,
new ways of being.

God, give me courage to start over,
to start, to be open to new ways,

to risk, to begin anew,
to go by another road.

May the new year bring healing of wounds past,
gratitude and trust in the present moment,

and abundant grace and blessings
in what lies ahead.

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

           When Jesus had been baptized,
           just as he came up from the water,
           suddenly the heavens were opened to him
           and he saw the Spirit of God
           descending like a dove and alighting on him.
           And a voice from heaven said,
           “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
                           —Matthew 3.16-17


Awaking this morning, you rise
out of the waters of Creation.

Today you walk across the Red Sea. You will drown,
and come to in a new place.

The heavens are torn open forever.
You can get there from here:

Heaven has spilled out into this world.
Live this day as if you are in heaven.

You are God’s Beloved, radiant with the image of God.
You belong, and have no power to remove yourself.

You are immersed in Christ, who heals you,
who accompanies you, who dies and rises in you.

You brim with Spirit, humming within.
Let her live in you. Let her sing. Let her fly.

Let her love in her infinite way. You can give,
for you have abundantly received.

Christ will go about the world now, healing and teaching,
blessing and serving, in your hands and ears and eyes.

The fire with which God will change the world
glows within you. Tend it.

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

Jesus came down to the water, down
to where we were, his feet pierced
by the sharp stones of our hearts,
his heart pierced by our cries.

Jesus went down into the water,
immersed in this mystery we are immersed in,
down, into bottoms, into dreams,
John’s hand on his shoulder the whole time.

There he swam like a fish deep
through the springs of your life,
through the vaulted sky of water,
through the Flood, the blood-thick water.

Spring at the bottom of a well.
Underside of a boat in a storm.
A jug of wine-red water, turning. Water
so dense with God you could walk on it.

You could see him moving like a sound
down there, like a current,
like an angel or a shark, like the spirit
brooding over the waters.

He troubled the waters.
Walked through the waters.
Drowned in the waters,
until it flowed with his blood.

Buried at sea, he wrestled
with frenzied swine, with Leviathan,
and Jonah’s whale, and all manner
of monsters that haunt your murk.

Was swallowed by them all,
and in their darkest innards
they were powerless to avoid
digesting him body and soul.

Three days under.
Silence.
The cry of a bird.
John breathed deep.

In a moment the water gave him up
and when he rose, fresh like a baby,
tears flowed down our cheeks
like the Jordan river.

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

           Ahead of them went the star
           that they had seen at its rising,
           until it stopped over the place where the child was.
                           —Matthew 2.9

Odd star, no?
Rose in the east (all things rise in the east)
but scooted westward for the magi to follow—
then stopped.
Not easy for a star above a rotating planet.
Stopped and stooped, apparently:
low enough to hover over a single house.
A star that nobody else, including Herod,
seems to have noticed.
A rogue star, noncompliant with the laws of stardom.

Step over the ashes of the arguments of the literalists.
Take the story as it is.
The revelation of God will come to you
in ways that make no sense,
cannot be explained, exploited, or replicated—
heck, you can’t even talk about it sensibly.
But it is there, and it shines— in an unassuming baby,
a tender conversation, a healing, a feeling,
a fleeing family, somehow luminous,
a moment when the earth seems to hold you gently,
or just staring out the window and knowing something
unnameable, warm and attractive.
The star will go ahead of you, it will stop over you,
it will wink but not go out. It will go on.
Let your heart be led by the rogue star of God.

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

           Magi from the East came…
                           —Matthew 2.1


In you, deep enough to be foreign,
  someone seeks.

Has seen a light, a star, small,
  but enough to awaken.

Sojourns through this world,
  unceasing, undeterred.

Yearns athwart the powers that be,
          will not be co-opted.
Desires a desire traitorous to desire,
          triumphs in kneeling humbly.

Bears gifts, not demands,
          honor, not dominance.

Finds another road, always
          another way to get there.

Be still, long enough for your sky to clear.
          Let the wise ones gaze.

What is that star?
          Where is the heart’s compass?

You will find,
          and never finish finding.

Take courage.
          Follow.

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