I stood by the sea and thought of you today.
For you, to whom I cannot now be near,
I stood near the ocean,
whose arms embrace the globe,
whose hands encircle even its deserts,
whose fingers reach through the river you drink from.
The wind-sent waves in vestments green and white
and bearing foam-fringed banners
processed up the aisle with song
and fell prostrate at my feet,
repeating their ancient prayer:
Go on.
The breath of God is at your back. Go on.
There will be sorrowful leavings, and sightless nights.
You may need to pause and weep or rage,
but then go on.
You will not fail. Life alone moves us,
and will see us to our shore, God-winded home.
You are breathed by God, whose flow will carry you.
You need not go before, nor will it serve to lag behind,
but let that great sea-brooding spirit bear you on
at its own holy pace; and you, surrendering
to its vast sea-spanning courage, and by its grace,
will go, like waves, and will go on—
always toward the one who stands
receiving you in wonder and in joy.
Go on.

________________
Weather Report
Windy,
gusting at times to courage-raising speeds,
as the Spirit’s flowing currents
move us from where we are,
despite our feeble wind resistance—
always, by grace, downwind.

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

September 8, 2020

             “If one sins against me how often should I forgive?
             As often as seven times?”
             Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times
                                        —Matthew 18.21-22

Because seventy-seven times
you have turned around and picked up
the resentment you had laid aside.

Because there are seventy-seven
layers in an onion.
Seventy-seven degrees of being free.

Because seventy-seven times
your assailant will smirk at you
or need reassurance.

Because the real work of forgiving
is not just forgiving once but staying forgiving,
like continuing to breathe.

Because only after seventy-seven times
do you begin to comprehend
how infinitely you are forgiven.

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

September 7, 2020

A weaver moves into your house.
She makes beautiful things
out of everything you own,
weaving every living thing together.
She unravels rugs and furniture.
The loss is great.
But they’re so beautiful.
They bring joy to everyone.
So you let her.
She unravels your house.
You hesitate, but choose to let her.
What she weaves is amazing,
and clothes the world in beauty.
You are truly happy.
She takes your hand
and begins
gently
carefully
unraveling—

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

September 4, 2020

They’re paving our street,
smoothing a layer over a crusty, cracked road
that covers some dirt and stones,
that cover a layer of bedrock that lays
over the mantle, that lays over the core of the earth.
Canyons prove the layers;
mountains disrupt them unpavably.
How complex is a human being,
the strata of memories, urges, fears and living things?
Archaeologists date their findings
by how deep down they are,
layers beneath layers.
A bump in the kitchen floor in an old house
marked where the linoleum was laid
over a nail head that wasn’t flattened
that still, from under, announced itself.
No doubt you’ve seen a seedling
crack the macadam.
Psychologists get paid by the hour
to uncover things that have gone deep:
in effect, they’re paid by the layer,
undoing all that pavement.

My thoughts are paved over
with asphalt words,
my feelings re-surfaced.
What you see has been steamrolled…
while deep beneath
something rumbles.

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

September 3, 2020

Owe no one anything,
except to love one another;
for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.
—Romans 13.8

God,
help me this day to add love to the world.
Not fear, not anxiety
about what I owe or am owed, but love.

Help me know my freedom—
not to do what I please,
but to fulfill my call to love,

my only goal not that I prevail
but that others receive love.

In calm interactions,
or in moments of anxiety or conflict,
let me contribute love.

In silence or in confrontation,
in public endeavor or quiet prayer,
in heroic action or mundane chores,
let me add love to the world.

O God of Love,
let your love overflow:
fulfill your love in me.
Amen.

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

September 2, 2020

    The Israelites walked on dry ground through the sea.
—Exodus 14.29

Somehow, in your own way, you have been there.
Making bricks without straw. Under a whip.
Your fruit— the fruit of your hands,
or mind, or loins—threatened.
Bound to labor for nothing.
Trapped in a fruitlessness not of your choosing.

How have you been enslaved? Addicted? Trapped?

And then something set you free.
Somehow Grace disrupted that scenario.
A Glorious pillar of fire, a terrible plague of death,
the persistent plea of a Moses—
forcefully God breaks the habits that bind us.

How did grace defeat your Pharaoh?

Then comes the hard work, the dangerous crossing,
the opening of the deep, the choice to wade in.
How could you have made that escape without help?  

How have you been set free?
What journey have you had to make?
What walls of water on either side have made you nervous?
Even if it feels like wandering in the wilderness,
are you keeping on the journey?
How is it going?
What do you need?

Trust God wants you free. God is with you.
This is not just your journey;
it is God’s.
With the cloud at your shoulder,
and a heart full of thanks,
into that Mystery Red Sea
step with courage. Go on.

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

September 9, 2020

If another sins against you, 
go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone.
—Matthew 18.15

How essential—
and how hard, sometimes—
to choose to speak to someone, not about them.

We complain about people behind their backs,
sometimes making up excuses
that we don’t want to “hurt their feelings”—
but talking behind their backs hurts their feelings.
We don’t want to “make them mad”—
assuming they’ll get mad,
and assuming that’s bad,
and assuming we can’t handle that.
All baloney.
We do it because we are afraid to speak the truth,
to stand for what we believe,
to ask for what we want.
We’re afraid to cause them some discomfort,
and to be OK with their discomfort.
So instead we whine, gossip, complain,
and let it fester. And they don’t learn,
and we don’t get what we need.

Jesus’ advice to be direct is not just good psychology.
It’s also good religion.
It’s good practice to be direct with God.
And when you are direct, you have to risk vulnerability—
that is, trust God’s grace. A little death and resurrection.
And it reminds us God is direct with us.
No bank shots. No games. No “say this and hope they do that.”
As Jesus says, “Let your yes be yes.”
God forgives us not because Jesus dies (an unnecessary bank shot)
but because God forgives us.
God doesn’t send disaster so we get some hint.
God tells us straight out: I want justice. I want love. I want you.
Our failure to be direct with people
is just practice for avoiding God.
But the grace is that even when we turn away from God
we’re still facing God.
In the end, uncomfortable as you sometimes have to be,
give thanks that God is so completely in your face.
I mean, really: where else—how far off— would you want God?

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

September 1, 2020

Listen for the One amid the others,
the one who makes your life run deep.

If you don’t turn from this clanging world to listen
you won’t hear that voice.

Listen for the voice that calls you Beloved,
the voice that calls you to love.

Listen for the voice that speaks of Creation’s wholeness,
that beckons you to completion.

A voice that leads you toward others,
not away from them,

toward healing and reconciliation,
not your own rising above others.

You will hear it in stillness, not in frenzy,
in silence, not in noise.

You will hear it from those who are belittled,
not those who are honored by this besotted world.

The Beloved will not speak of success,
but death and resurrection.

Listen for one who speaks with hope and delight,
listen to them. Listen to them.

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

August 31, 2020

Bless those who persecute you;
bless and do not curse them. 
Do not repay anyone evil for evil,
but seek what is healing for all. 
Do not be overcome by evil,
but overcome evil with good.
—Romans 12.14, 17, 21

God of truth and mercy,
I see the news of murderers and militias,
of white supremacy and abuse of the poor,
of police brutality and deep injustice.
I hear your cry for justice—
that you love justice, you yearn, you ache for justice.
I have vowed to “accept the power you give us
to resist evil, injustice and oppression
in whatever forms they present themselves.” *
Loving God, how shall I resist?
I open my heart to your passion
for the redemption of all humanity and the healing of Creation.
And I open myself to your spirit, that I may know how to respond.
How do I bless those who oppress, and not curse them?
Help me to know, and give me the strength to do so.
Help me to resist my temptation to repay evil with evil—
help me to overcome evil with good,
you who are the Infinite Good that overcomes evil.
Beloved, in the name of the crucified and risen Christ,
give me wisdom, hope and courage to resist.Amen.

(* United Methodist baptismal vows)

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

August 28, 2020

In the woods I listen for God’s voice.
(That’s what I think, but really
I’m just listening to my own expectations.)

The brook is babbling
but nothing else has anything to say.
The ferns are speaking in tongues,
but they are tongues of silence.
The breeze offers sighs too deep for words.
The trees stand like old men at the Western Wall,
bowing back and forth.
I wonder what they are saying,
but they are contemplating,
they can’t be bothered with speaking.
A chickadee lights on a dead branch
and looks maybe at me, maybe not.
Other birds are singing but not this one.
It’s just there.
Little bird, what is your message for me?
But it has no message. It’s just there.

And then, in that moment—
but only for a moment—
I am just there.

It takes the rest of my morning walk
to leave behind all the words and ideas
and just be there with
the One Who Is Present.

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

August 27, 2020