For forty days he was tempted by the devil.
                           —Luke 4.2

God, I confess
I want the power
to make things as I wish them,
to turn stones to bread, this to that,
to have the world as I desire, not as it is.
         I renounce my hunger for power.
         Your love alone is my power.

I confess
I want to manage what others think of me,
I want authority, status, belonging,
the kingdoms of the world.
         I renounce my hunger for status.
         You lone are my belonging.

I confess
I want the security of freedom from pain,
from risk, from sacrifice,
as if I could leap from a height and be unhurt.
         I renounce my fear of suffering.
         You alone are my security.

Spirit of love,
be my power, my security, my belonging;
overwhelm the fears of my ego
and re-direct my desires,
that I may trust you, belong to you,
and bear your love alone.

         I breathe your love.
         I breathe your love.
Amen.

   —March 7, 2019

The Beloved knelt down
and scooped dust up from the earth
and bent down and kissed that dirt,
laid tender lips on yours
and breathed into you
and there you are,

dirt breathing,
breathing God.

Attend to the breath,
it sings,
attend to the dust,
without its grit
the breath can’t sing.
Watch how you try
to be one without the other.
Attend to getting along.

The wind blows all dust,
eventually scatters it.

Sing, dust,
while you can.

  —March 6, 2019

I used to wonder what “Shrove” meant.
I thought of boats shrove up on shore.
Or a boat shrove in on the rocks.
Maybe a shrove of wheat.
Or the shrove you put over a dead body.

Then I learned to shrive is to hear a confession,
and to grant absolution,
and to impose penance.
Which, all together, are as mixed up as before.
If I really grant absolution—forgiveness—
there is no penance, no obligation.

But maybe to shrive means
to see clearly, you and me together,
what is out of harmony in my life,
and see together how to get in tune.
To see what gets in the way of perfect love
and to start to move it out of the way
so by God loving in me I can be perfected in love.

Confession is being mindful:
I am becoming pure love,
still on the way.

God, I am sorry: I am pretty messed up.
“Oh, child, you’re more messed up than you think.
But you’re mine, and I love you, and you’re lovely.
Now let’s work on this.”

   —March 5, 2019

         You desire truth in the inward being;
         therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart
                  —Psalm 51.6

         Whenever you pray,
         go into your room and shut the door
         and pray to your Life-giver who is in secret.
                  —Matthew 6.6

Go in,
into that inner chamber
beneath the where of you
and the how of you
and even the who of you
to the great I Am of you,
where hums your secret self,

the holy darkness
at the center where
God radiates out into you.

Go into that dark room
where your forgiveness
lies like a sleeping child;

like a child who has loved you
since the day she was born,
the Beloved waits to greet you.

   —March 4, 2019

         “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
                  —Luke 9.35

Listen for the One amid the others,
the one who awakens something lovely in you.

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

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

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

A voice that leads you toward others,
not your own rising above and away.

Listen to the song of the immense flowering within you,
the risk and passion you can dance to.

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 him. Listen to him.

   —March 1, 2019

          While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed,
          and his clothes became dazzling white.
          Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.
          They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure,
          which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.
                            —Luke 9.29-31

Jesus has just told his disciples the powerful will kill him.
He is about to “set his face toward Jerusalem.”
We are in the shadow of the cross.
In that awful place when Jesus prays
he speaks with Moses and Elijah about his “departure”—
let’s not be polite about it: his terrible death.
And in that awful place what do the disciples see?
Even before his horrible death
they see him already resurrected, shining in glory!
The Transfiguration is not a proof-of-Jesus’-divinity video.
It’s a resurrection appearance, before the resurrection.
Jesus, having given himself to God, is already infinitely alive.
That’s the promise that bears him onward.

This week my church, the “United “ Methodist Church,
just voted to exclude and persecute gay people.
OK, so that’s that. We’re not United any more.
We have officially abandoned the gospel of love.
For many of us our hearts are broken.
We are in the shadow of crucifixion.

In this awful place what do I see?
I see that God in grace makes life out of death, victory out of failure.
I see the church, risen.
The terrible death hasn’t come yet,
but already the light of resurrection illumines our way.
God is at work, unseen and victorious,
even as the soldiers of death pull on their boots.

It is time for the church to die and rise.
We will suffer; some will suffer greatly.
But we will go on, and God will raise us up,
and the radiant Body of Christ, crucified and risen,
changed into a new form, will shine.
Love will prevail. It will not be defeated. Love cannot be voted down.

In all your struggles—for justice in the world,
or for peace in one neighbor’s life—
whatever your failures, whatever ruinous collapses you foresee,
know this: before the tragedy, before the awful descent,
in love you are already risen, already shining.
Go in peace. Go with courage. Go in hope.

— January 28, 2019

O God, you built your house with skilled hands.
         You fashioned it with strong beams,
a roof and a bed and a table for all,
         and a name at every place at the table.

But now your enemies have taken your dwelling;
         they have seized it for themselves.
They have walled off its rooms,
         and have thrown out your children,
they have planted thorns by the doorways
         and posted sentries at the gates,
that none may enter but by hatred,
         that none may dwell here but in fear.
Your beloved, cast out, go homeless,
         your children walled out from your love.
You who dwell in your people
         have no home now, but wander the streets.

Woe to those who have shut the temple door;
         their house now a prison.
Woe to those who have done evil dressed in priestly robes,
         their house is forever empty of love.

Loving One, receive our sorrow,
         and fashion it into wisdom.
Mighty One, hold our rage,
         and grow it into courage.
Creating One, take our despair
         and turn it to hope.
O Homeless One, gather the refugees
         fleeing the house of hatred.
Shelter the condemned,
         and bless them with your glory.

Open our eyes to see, God,
         that from the rubble of injustice
you are building a beautiful house
         with strong beams,
a roof and a bed and a table for all,
         and a name at every place at the table.
For your love will prevail,
         now and forever.

 —February 27, 2019

God of love, Creator of heaven and earth,
         of all that is and is yet to be,
your power shines in each person on earth,
         each is an image of your love.

You who breathe in us with love,
         whose strength is mercy and grace,
give us courage to be steadfast in love,
         and resolve to stand for justice.
You do not give up on your people,
         though we struggle to find our way;
even from the ruins of defeat         
         you raise us up in love.
In the face of hatred your love
         remains beautiful and mighty and pure.

Heal those who are wounded,
         who bear the scars of injustice.
Sustain us in your mighty grace;
         empower us with your tender care.
Even when our hearts are broken,
         even when our hands grow tired,
the might of your love be our power,
         our joy, that carries us on.

Bring into being by your grace
         what only your grace can create.
Your eternal delight be the beating of our hearts,
         your patience our strength to endure.
Your hope be our hope,
         your love be our nerve.
God of love, when the world is afraid to love,
         let us love, and the world becomes new.
Let our endurance be your praise
         our love your victory,
O God of our hearts,
         and ruler of the universe.

   —February 26, 2019

O Love, you are the breath within my breath,
         the urge that beats my heart.
You hold me in the inner folds of your delight;
         my name is the prayer upon your lips.
I praise you, who praise me, too;
         I sing your grace, your absolute love.
Though others speak of me with hearts of war
         and see in me their deepest fears,
you, Love, alone, are my mirror and my name;
         you are my root, and I your leaf, your fruit.
Your Word to me is courage,
         your name for me Beloved,
         and your judgment deep delight.

My enemies assail me according to strange law,
         in courts and sanctuaries they accuse my soul.
They seek to cut me off, to amputate my life from them;
         they cast me in darkness and invite my doom.
But it is you they rail against,
         your grace they tremble at;
it is your love that frightens them;
         it is you, O Rejected One, they see in me,
your tenderness they fear,
         your powerlessness they scorn.

And you, O God, with love and healing hold me;
         you save me from their demons
         and shield me from their rage.
Even as I cry for justice, and stand for dignity
         among their hail of hate,
you stand with me, you bear their scorn,
         you sing my name in quiet gentleness,
         you cast your rainbow over me.
Hold me in your peace, and fill me with your love,
         that even in their midst I may sing your mercy
         and radiate your grace.

   —February 25, 2019

         If I have not love
         I am nothing.
                  —1 Corinthians 13.2

God of love, may we approach one another
with the intent to love, first and last,
and submit all our intentions to love.

May our intent be to heal, not to win,
to bless, not to curse, to join, not to divide.
Help us do your will, not ours.

May we listen humbly,
speak honestly
and discern obediently.

Save us from justice without mercy,
righteousness without humility,
victory without love.

May we examine our own righteousness
more vigorously than others’.
May we demonstrate your goodness, not our own.

May we honestly examine our norms and expectations,
our judgments of those who are different,
our exclusion of those who threaten our superiority.

May we be mindful of every person’s wounded need
to be loved, to be included, to be honored,
every person’s desperation to be good enough.

May we remember your justice is love,
your command is mercy,
your judgment is grace.

God of love, give us wisdom that is love,
fill us with courage that is love,
empower us for victory that is love alone.

By your spirit help us to do no harm,
to do all the good we can,
and to stay in love with you.

We pray in the love and the company of Jesus,
who served in love, who died for love,
and who rises in us with victorious love. Amen.

   —February 22, 2019