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

            “Cut this tree down! Why should it be wasting the soil?”
           “No, let it alone until I dig around it and put manure on it.”
                           —from Luke 13.7, 8

Be done with the god of demanding,
the god of Not Good Enough.
Be done with the God of No.

Turn to the God of Yes,
the God of Let Me Nourish,
the God of I Believe In You.

The God of mercy, God who gives,
God of what takes time,
God of hidden gifts unfolding.

Let the God of Yes dig around your roots.
Feel the patient fingers.
Feel the disturbance.

(Of course that one is also
the God of Manure
for which there is another word.)

Let the God of Manure
turn waste and refuse into food,
death into life.

Let the God of Yes bear fruit in you,
the fruit of Yes for others,
for nourishing, not judging.

This very day you may have the chance
to lay down your axe
and take up a trowel.

Be a gardener of Yes,
and your own roots
may be nourished.

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

                When you hear of wars and rumors of wars,
                do not be alarmed….
               The gospel must first be preached to all nations.
                                                  —Mark 13.7,10


Let your heart break for this world.
Do not be afraid to stay there at the wound of the world,
weeping with those who weep.
There is infinite strength and blessing there.
But bear your sorrow gently;
it is held by the One who weeps for us.
Into hearts broken open the light of love shines
Look clearly on the world’s injustice,
but look with eyes of mercy.
Take courage. Do not despair at the oppressors,
who are captive to the spirit of pride and violence.
Bear your outrage lightly; do not cling to it.
Let it lead you toward compassion, not anger.
Let every breath be an offering.
We have been sent to make gentle this wounded world,
to dwell as healers among fearful souls,
to shine light in this darkness.
Don’t despair that you are unable.
It is not you who does this work: it is God in you.
When you touch the world’s pain God enters you.
Let your tears be healing rains that bring life.
You breathe gentleness into the air that all others breathe,
in the earth we all share you sow peace.

The light shines in the darkness
and the darkness cannot overcome it.

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

We are surrounded by death,
and we are well, and we will be well.
We breathe in and breathe out.
We know we are dying,
and we dance on our graves.
We know how to love, how to forgive.
We know how to live for the well-being
of all life and nothing less—
and nothing less can sway us.
We have the courage that cannot fail:
in the face of evil, to choose kindness.
We are borne on untiring wings
older, and newer, than us.
We are carried by a current deeper
than gravity, stronger than time.
Our hope is not in the future
but a river already flowing.
We have already died and gone to heaven,
angels who can’t be prevented from blessing.
We are seeds of the One
who has already died and risen.
We will sing of justice and mercy
until the end days, for even at the end,
life throbs and thrills and burgeons with grace.
We will go on. We will be well.
We will die singing.

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

         Jerusalem, Jerusalem! How often have I desired
         to gather your children together
         as a hen gathers her brood under her wings,
         and you were not willing!
                           —Luke 13.34

Gather me, Mother Christ.
Gather me in from my fears and doubts.
Hold me under your tireless wing,
shield me from hungers that wander,
guard me from flighty desires.
Save me from the evil I would suffer
and the evil I would do.
Gather me with all your children,
those I love and those I do not,
for we shelter together but alone, wander.
Mother Christ, keep me by your covering side,
tender me at your nursing breast,
close by you wherever you go,
so that even up Golgotha’s hill,
bearing the cross with you
I am under your wing,
under your wing.

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