Category: Reflections

           And his master commended the dishonest manager
           because he had acted shrewdly;
           for the children of this age are more shrewd
           in dealing with their own generation
           than are the children of light.
                           —Luke 16.8

I don’t know what this means.
Other than that sometimes Jesus says things
I don’t get.
Sometimes his wisdom is beyond me.
Oh, I can make up stuff to make it make sense.
Sure, it means “Don’t be stupid in dealing with the world.”
But…. Only maybe.
Don’t think you know it all.
Faith doesn’t require figuring things out.
Write it in pencil, and keep wondering.
Keep asking.
Keep listening.

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

The Beloved sets a table for you.
Prepares a place, clear of purpose.
The Beloved buses away all the old dishes.
Sets a new table, clean and pretty.
Sets enough places for everyone.
Brings vessels sparkling with blessing.
Plates of nourishment for your soul.
Time to sit and enjoy.
And, yes, there will be ice cream.
When there is silence,
it’s because the food is so good.

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

           There was a rich estate holder who had a manager,
           and charges were brought
           that this manager was squandering the estate’s property.
                           —Luke 16.1

Christ, beholden to no accounting,
delights in forgiving debts.
God, rich in mercy,
rejoices in such love being squandered.
Christ, lovingly prodigal,
says, “You don’t owe.”
God, perfectly aware,
blesses such bad management.
Write it off on your account.
And next time you see such a bad capitalist,
say “Thank you.”

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

They’re laying sewer lines for the new neighborhood.
An act of pure grace and mercy.

Isn’t it great how God arranges our bodies
to use what we need and release the rest?

Lay sewer lines in your mind.
Even in your prayers.

God has already laid the lines for us
“as far as the east is from the west.”

Sewers of forgiveness. All is washed away.
Our baptismal fonts should have flush handles.

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

           For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt;
                      I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.
           Is there no balm in Gilead?
                           —Jeremiah 8.21-22

So much vanishes. A glacier, a species, a friend.
A tattered shirt on a clothesline, in an erasing breeze.
September 11, January 6.
A hole that weighs too much,
an absence that lumbers around like a tractor.
Paper on a chain link fence, swaying.
A future fading to something else.
A voice in the square become silence.
An angel of despair who doesn’t know her words.
Grandchildren picking through shells in a barren landscape.
A thief of fire. Hope in rising waters.
The monster living in this world
that doesn’t live in this world.
A prairie in mourning, inconsolable sea.
No living thing is free of this grief.
We dip parched hearts in the spring, the balm of the whole.
We hold trembling cups to the rain,
or we wither.
A mighty God will not save us now;
vengeance will do no good.
Only tenderness will save us;
even the valiant soldier on
with broken hearts.

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

In the evening I walked through the meadow,
hip deep in wet, seeding grasses.
I came home serene and warmed.
I sat down to read and noticed
grass dander all over me,
felting my pants, shedding on the sofa.
I had to pick away at the cushions
and go out and shake off, pat myself down.
Maybe I shouldn’t have.
I imagine in the spring a field of tender shoots
rising from the rug, the verdant upholstery.

Tell me, what do you have to walk through
to come home with glory all over you?

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

I do not walk among these trees to learn
or become wise, or figure things out,
but simply to be here,
and not (even in my head) elsewhere,
to root myself in this present moment
with roots that go deep, hold, and draw water,
and where I am standing, with this breath,
to find myself in Divine Presence.
I gather myself until I am all here,
and all Creation gathers, all Creation meets me.
Step by step, under oak or pine, crab or beech,
among wet grasses or exultant blueberry bushes,
I am here,
and now I am here,
and that—no thing or thought—
is sacred.

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

           When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors,
           saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’
           Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God
           over one sinner who repents.
                           —Luke 15.9-10

In centering prayer my mind kicks in,
wanders, thinks, does its thing.
Even if it’s a thought about how wonderful God is,
it’s a thought, a calculation. Not pure awareness.
I let go of it, and return
to simply being present for God.
That moment of return is repentance.
And it’s a source of delight for God.
Not mere satisfaction, as in a debt paid,
but rejoicing, as in a hope fulfilled, a gift received.
Imagine that—God delighted every time I turn around,
every time I release a resentment,
every moment I open the door of my heart to grace.
How could God be angry with our sin
when she is so constantly delighted?

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

They’re building a new neighborhood next door.
My morning prayers on the porch are often accompanied
by rumbling and beeping and crashing and dust.
I pray anyway.
My morning walk now begins in a ruin
of scraped earth, mangled roots and machine tracks
before I reach the woods.
I walk anyway.
We’re always having to learn to be at peace amid chaos,
to be kind and patient when others are mean,
to be grateful amid disaster, to pray in the mess.
And the Divine One is always there.
In the destroyed meadow,
among the shattered stones and bulldozer treads
I find the tracks of birds.

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

           What woman having ten silver coins,
           if she loses one of them,
           does not light a lamp, sweep the house,
           and search carefully until she finds it?
                           —Luke 15.8


What is lost in you?
Silenced, ignored, abandoned,
repressed, forgotten, hidden?
God is looking for it.

A peasant woman’s ten silver coins
is surely her dowry: a symbol of worth,
assurance of security, a promise of marriage.
So precious are you to God.

Where is there hidden in you
a coin of your belovedness,
a treasured future,
the gleam of divine fidelity?

She will find it,
and she will rejoice.

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