No one can come to me
         unless drawn by the One who sent me.
                        —John 6.44

In the womb of stillness I begin to see:
how small my longings!
There is a deeper desire,
an invisible ocean current bearing me: You
yearning for me,
earth’s gravity drawing me close,
so much grater than mine drawing earth.
What if I were to fall into this mystery,
that yours are the arms that reach?
How can I ever turn from you
if yours is the dark emptiness I fill,
the absence I complete,
yours the great wound
that I heal?
 

   —August 7, 2018

On this day, August 6, in 1945 we dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
Three days later we did it again to Nagasaki.
These were not military targets like Pearl Harbor.
It was not a strategic battle maneuver.
They were civilian targets, like Dresden.
This was not done to end the war, but to signal our strength to Russia.
Over two hundred thousand people, almost all civilians, died.
It followed the firebombing of dozens of Japanese cities.
This is a day of remembrance of our Holocaust.

To confront evil in the world
we begin with our own.
Only in humble, honest confession
can we bring a heart of peace to the world.
Only in recognition of our own capacity to do damage,
to misuse power, to have others suffer for us,
can we change the heart of the world.
Only in acknowledging the pain we have caused
can we bring healing.
Only in honest sorrow can we seek honest joy.

For all who cause suffering, and those who endure it,
God have mercy.

Help us live with a heart pf peace.
 

   —August 6, 2018

         Speaking the truth in love,
         we must grow up in every way
        into the One who is the head,
         into Christ, from whom the whole body,
         joined and knit together
        by every ligament with which it is equipped,
         as each part is working properly,
         promotes the body’s growth
        in building itself up in love.
                        —Ephesians 4.15-16

God, I offer humility and gratitude
for being part of such a glorious gift,
the Body of Christ, in all its riotous diversity.
You have given us this vast, teeming universe,
this beloved community, in which to embody your grace.
Give me confidence to trust my part in the whole,
to honor my gifts, to give my offering,
and to relish the strange harmony we make,
even in our differences.
Give me courage to honor the ones some would exclude,
to treasure their gifts, to tend the ligaments.

Help us, O Oneness, to be whole,
to speak only truth,
to grow continually,
and to build each other up in love,
and so attain the full stature of Christ.
Amen.

   —August 3, 2018

Wading in the ocean I am in four worlds:
the land, the sea, what is within,
and another.
         
                        •

Floating in the ocean,
my body hears
what I do not.
         
                        •

Watching the ocean,
the waves repeat themselves
until I stop understanding.
         
                        •

Sitting by the ocean,
the wind, not my knowledge of the wind,
washes me clean.
 

   —August 1, 2018

         I am the bread of life.
         Whoever comes to me will never be hungry,
         and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
                        —John 6.35

Go ahead, bring
your deepest hunger, your sharpest thirst,
your darkest yearning for health and happiness,
for peace of mind, for things to be your way.
These are branches. Where is their root?
Something deeper you know you want.

You may be poor, sick or in prison,
but you will not lack this life I give you.
Real bread, substance of living,
nourishing your inward being,
the heartbeat of your soul,
the breathing in and out of my Spirit
I give to you.
Come to me. Open your heart to me.
Nothing in the world can sever
my umbilical love.

   —August 1, 2018

         Do not work for the food that perishes,
         but for the food that endures to eternal life.
                           —John 6.27

Beloved, what do you work for? What do you seek?
What do you put yourself out for,
expend effort, trade other things for?
Does it give you life? Does it last?
Does it lead you to deeper life, life in me?

Those little bits of power and control,
they’re not all that filling, are they?
That safety and security, not having to think,
doesn’t really taste all that good, does it?
The esteem, the little confining place of belonging—
it’s junk food, isn’t it?

Take and eat.
Better than earned or stolen,
than made or found,
the food that is given tastes best of all.
Feast on this, offered in love.

Open the mouth of your heart, child,
and nurse at the breast of this moment,
to the deep nourishment here in this air,
what feeds and fills and strengthens you.
Nurse from my breast,
take in my divine self for food,
let the Bread that is this life become you.

Drink deeply of me.
You are what you eat.

―July 31, 2018

         Nathan said to David, “You are the man!
                        —2 Samuel 12.7

God, give me courage
to look at myself honestly,
to see in myself
the corruption I judge in others.
Hold me accountable
to your justice,
and to your mercy.
Amen.

   —July 30, 2018

Together we walk around the ICE building
with its walls a thousand miles thick
where behind smoked windows and drawn shades
they interrogate the refugees,
they work their detentions and deportations.
We walk there, and up and down the street, and we pray.
I pray toward the closed windows, toward the passersby.

God, let our spirits be softened.
Open the borders of our hearts.
You who make room in yourself
for us to come out into your spaciousness
and know the freedom of ourselves,
create space in us for each other.
Open our hearts.
We are ourselves only in each other.
Even these hard faces are mine.
Bring down the walls that imprison us
from the rest of us,
that close us in on our halved selves.
Bring us through our Red Sea.
Borderless wind, set us free.
Spirit of love, open our hearts.

   —July 27, 2018

         David was walking about on the roof,
         and he saw a woman bathing;
         the woman was very beautiful,
         Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.
         David sent messengers to get her,
         and she came to him, and he lay with her.
                        —2 Samuel 11.2-4

David, up on the roof, knows he has power over,
and doesn’t know.

The crown has a mind of its own.
He who wears it can’t see how it uses him.

As the king rules the horse,
the crown rules the king.

Bathsheba, powerless, is used, and knows it,
though Uriah will not not survive to know.

David knows, but is blind
to the power power has over him.

Beware the man
who is not protected from his own power.

   —July 26, 2018

         They saw Jesus walking on the sea
         and coming near the boat,
         and they were terrified.
         But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.”
                                 —John 6.19-20

In the difficult crossing,
the passage to the other side,
the opposing wind,
you are the peace that walks through the chaos,
the presence terrifying in your calm,
upsetting in your resolve.
In the darkness on the sea of Creation’s beginning,
Spirit breathing wildly over it,
the edge of a world,
you are the clarity.
You are the serenity piercing the jagged night,
somehow not just local, but encircling.
Fear is the oar I cling to, the wind I fight.
Straining, I resist the trust that all shall be well.
Beneath the howl of the wind, the waves’ roar,
the pounding of my heart, I hear, I hear
quiet and present, so near,
your placid voice: “It is I.”

You are in the boat with me.
The new creation is upon me.
I am borne, I am on the other side.

   —July 25, 2018