Category: Reflections

           Mary took a pound of costly perfume
           made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet,
           and wiped them with her hair.
                                 —John 12.3


Beloved,
you pour your love out on me,
healing oil and sorrowing tears
sweetly mingling,
your hands a gentle bathing on my feet.
Your tender grace anoints,
soaks in, moves up my body,
a warm baptismal rising tide.
The fragrance of your love
fills the house of my heart.

Beloved,
in thanks I pour out myself for you,
my most precious essence,
the whole bottle of me.
May the fragrance of my love
fill the house of my life.

Beloved,
you wash our feet,
humble and patient,
honoring, blessing,
cleansing, perfecting.
The fragrance of your love
fills the house of the world.

Here in your ego’s death I die;
here your waters break and I am born.
I walk into every moment
redolent of the fragrance of that love.

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

           Mary took a pound of costly perfume
           made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet,
           and wiped them with her hair.
                                 —John 12.3


The disciples don’t understand,
too sure of themselves to imagine the tomb,
to feel the sting, the ache.
Mary does.
Feeling the dullness of his friends
and the harshness of the crowd,
the stone of loneliness,
heart breaking for the Beloved,
for the utter loss they begin to share already,
the gutting of the tomb
already being dug in her heart,
she performs a miracle:
in the shadow of the cross
an act of thoughtful kindness.

Jesus, may I be your Mary.
Let this be the whole of my religion:
to feel the ache of those who suffer
and to offer kindness against cruelty.
Let this be my worship:
simply to be kind.

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

           “Go get the fatted calf and kill it,
           and let us eat and celebrate;
           for this son of mine was dead and is alive again;
           he was lost and is found!”
                           —Luke 15. 23-24

At times I am the younger son,
throwing away the grace given to me.
At times I am the older, privileged,
praiseworthy, deserving, resentful
of the grace given others—
throwing away the grace given to me.

Prodigal means generous, not wayward;
this is the parable of the prodigal father.

Prodigal God,
bless me that I may be prodigiously generous,
forgiving and welcoming, without judgment,
giving without thought of deserving;
that in my generosity of heart
I, too, who have been lost may be found,
that I who have died may be alive again,
your prodigal child.

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

           There was a man who had two sons….
                           —Luke 15.11

How easy it is to fall into a selfish religion,
a faith based on what we want from God.
One son says, “Give me my share of the property.“
The other says “You never gave me so much as a goat.“
Neither wants their father, just his stuff.

Selfish faith wants things, not relationship.
Both sons break their relationship, betray their kinship,
remove themselves from the family.
“Treat me as one of your hired hands.”
“I worked for you like a slave.”

To both of them alike the father leaves his home,
and goes out to his distant sons—
one geographically and the other emotionally,
but both of them having removed themselves—
and he invites them back in.

Sometimes it is a gift,
responding to “Treat me as your slave“
with “Put a ring on his finger.”  
Sometimes it is a challenge,
responding to “that son of yours“
with “this brother of yours.“
But always it’s an invitation to join the party.

God does not give us things,
God gives us relationships.
When Jesus heals people he restores them to community.

Let what you seek bring you deeper in
to your kinship with all people, and all creation.
It is only as kin that we can truly pray,
and that we truly receive.

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

       The son said,
      “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you;
                I am no longer worthy to be called your son.“
       But the father said, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—
                      and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.
       And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate.”
                           —Luke 15.21-23

God is not bound by our shame.
The robe and ring are not merely gifts:
they signify family. Belonging.

You can’t unbelong from God’s family,
can’t be outside God’s intimate bond.
You always belong, always have, always will.

Run away; you are still God’s beloved child.
Come crawling back, poor of all but guilt;
you are still rich with God’s delight.

Delight, child. Beyond mere acceptance,
deeper than forgiveness: God’s utter delight—
reason for singing and dancing.

You belong, sealed, to God’s delight—
compassion, healing, gratitude and delight.
God has nothing but delight for you.

Repent of refusing God’s delight.
Your penance, hard as it is, is to come in and feast.
Your penance is to enter into God’s love and joy.

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

           Then the younger son
           came to himself…
                           —Luke 15.17

Love,
you are not asking me to leave myself
and become someone strange.
You lead me to become myself.
To leave the far country of the things I desire,
to surrender the false ID all I pretend,
and return to the one you create me to be.

Even all my running away was running toward something,
toward a part of me I couldn’t name,
a place where you knew I would be—
and you were there, waiting for me.
Even my leaving was approaching you.
Even my scattering of treasures
was a seeking of what I treasure the most.

By your grace, then, may I come to myself:
to name my desires and fears,
to face my wounds and shadows,
to own my life—
and to come home to the beloved I am,
to the me of me, the you of me,
to know where I belong,
to remember whose I am.

Moment by moment
I pray to quit the pig sty of expectations and pretense
and come home to my belovedness,
come to myself, which is
to come to you.

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

           A few days later the younger son gathered all he had
           and traveled to a distant country…
                           —Luke 15.13

It’s not so far, that distance,
hidden here in my wayward heart,
seeking space from you,
and that righteous son of yours,
hungry for my own self-made place
beyond the borders I imagine,
the closed eye, the clenched hands.
It’s not far at all, I can go there in a flash,
and do, daily.
What, even now, am I running from?
What am I never not looking for?

Oh, the things I could have used those wings for.

And yet.
In this far country I see your fingerprints.
You created this place, too. Nothing is outside you.
I can’t escape you, can I?

No matter how I distance myself,
no matter how far the land,
how removed my heart,
I am not even in sight of your horizon.
I am in you.
I have never left the house.

Walk with me,
this long journey home.

+

Breath prayer:
                         Home … in you

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

           “Cut this tree down!
                 Why should it be wasting the soil?”
           “Let it alone until I dig around it
                 and put manure on it.”
                                        —Luke 13.7,8

What is repulsive to the nose
may be sweet to the roots.

What is waste to the mind
may be food for the soul.

What is difficult and disruptive
may harbor grace.

The Beloved, to revive you,
will not uproot you,

but will not leave
your roots untouched.

“Let it alone:” let what is
be what it is,

and flourish with its
hidden blessings.

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

            “Cut this tree down! Why should it be wasting the soil?”
           “Let it alone until I dig around it and put manure on it.”
                           —from Luke 13.7, 8

Why do bad things happen to good people?
Because things happen.
God is not an algorithm.
Did the eighteen people crushed by the wall
deserve their death? No.
Does the struggling tree deserve to be cut down? No.
Jesus dispenses with the idea—
the demonic lie—of deserving.
There is no such thing.
God is not bound to the past
and our performance in it;
God is in the present moment.
God is not a cashier,
dispensing what we’ve earned.
God is life, and the giving of life, and nothing else.
No compromise. No conditions.
There is no “deserving.”
It is the lie of Satan, luring you into the past,
into fear, into bondage. It does not give life.
God’s will is not what you deserve,
but what you need.
Regardless of the accidents that befall you,
regardless of evil you do or the evil you suffer,
God’s will is to offer what you need to live fruitfully,
which is always mercy.
A tree that is not fruitful needs nourishing.
A person who is not righteous needs healing.
A son who has distanced himself needs family.
People who crucify need forgiveness.
A Beloved who has died needs resurrecting.
Dare to abandon your calculations
and its illusion of control.
From Life there is only the giving of life.
Receive, and you will have fruits to give.

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

           My God, my soul thirsts for you,
                      as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
           My soul is satisfied
                      as with a rich feast,
                                                                 —Psalm 63.1, 5

Yes, Beloved, both.
My soul is parched
and my emptiness gnaws at me.
I am filled, with more than I can take in.
My hunger for you drives me
to fruitful places and barren,
and I find you and fail to find you.
My thirst distorts my thinking,
clouds my eyes,
I am never without you.
My hunger never leaves me,
only hides in so many places,
at any moment I can stop
and be at peace,
for you are already here,
sumptuous feast set in the hall
of my desolate heart.
A river always being emptied,
always being filled.
I welcome my thirst.
I drink deeply of you.

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