Abraham went and took the ram
            and offered it up as a burnt offering
            instead of his son.
                           —Genesis 22.13

            1. Letting go

God promises Abraham offspring, waits till he’s 100 years old to finally give him one son, then asks him to sacrifice that son. That’s a pretty big ask. We need to face the question Abraham did: What do you want more: God, or the things you want from God? Even if those things are very good, they’re not God. What are the blessings you hang onto tighter than you hang onto God? Can you let go? Will you?

                        …”You can have all the world, give me Jesus…”

            2. Trusting

God is personified in this story. God doesn’t really make specific “promises” of certain delayed outcomes (like having offspring—or being married or surviving disease…) then “keep” them. God also doesn’t ask us to do one thing, planning all along to have us do something else. God is love, and love doesn’t make deals or play tricks. God does not withhold blessings, though it often takes them time to unfold, and it takes us time to see them. Like the sun “promises” to shine by always shining, God “promises” to care for us and provide for us by always doing so. Do you trust that? Will you trust that even at the risk of losing a great deal?

                        …”There’s no better way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey..”

            3. Changing
 

A God who asks Abraham to kill his own son just to show his loyalty sounds like a really sick Mob boss. But when this story first arose, maybe 3500 years ago, child sacrifice was quite common. “Abraham” isn’t an individual; he’s the community. This is the story of how the ancient Hebrews outgrew child sacrifice. God never did want them to sacrifice children, but it took a long time for them to see that and find a better way: just sacrifice animals, not people. This is a story about how religion changes. How has God changed your religion? How might it still be changing?

                        … “Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me…”

                                        —June 27, 2017

Drink deeply of this life, my friend.
Don’t sip to make it last
in fear of running out.
The waiter keeps coming by,
refilling our glasses.
Drink deeply of who you are,
the magnificent happening of you.
Drain the glass.
Take big swigs of this day,
swish it around in your mouth a little,
even the hard or boring parts,
you are alive, and it’s good.
Each moment drink it in.
Drink deeply of the grace God gives you,
the blessing, the presence, the love,
refilling your glass before it’s half empty.
Taste it. Savor it. Have some more.
Even if you do it as a game,
to make the waiter reappear again and again,
drink it in.
Look at you, filing yourself up
with God.

                           —June 26, 2017

            Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
            Yet not one of them will fall to the ground
            without God.
                           —Matthew 10.29

God does not go around pulling birds out of the air.
God is not a guy sitting at a control panel.
God does not “plan” your victory or defeat,
cancer, your accident, the moment of your death.
Things do not happen “for a reason.”
Stuff happens. Birds are free.
So are germs, and hurricanes, and idiots.

Love is God,
the pure energy of being, setting us free,
with us in every moment and movement of our freedom.

Jesus didn’t say
sparrows don’t fall without a plan,
he said they don’t fall without God.

God’s plan is not a mechanical routine.
God’s plan is that you are free,
and that you thrive and love.
God’s plan is that whatever happens
God is with you with love and grace.

Stop trying to figure out God’s plan
and pay attention to God’s presence.

After all that’s what you want:
not luck
but to be with God.

                           —June 23, 2017

            So Abraham rose early in the morning,
            and took bread and a skin of water,
            and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder,
            along with her child, and sent her away.
            And she departed, and wandered about
            in the wilderness of Beer-sheba.
                           —Genesis 21.14

Name her.
Hagar, the outcast,
rejected by your own ego,
victim of your own lust and fear,
consequence of your many mistakes,
sent away by your guilt.

In the wilderness of your heart she wanders.

But listen:
God will care for her, rescue her,
feed her child, who will thrive.
God is with her.

Who is she,
wandering in the wilderness of your heart?

                           •

Who is she, abandoned
in the Beer-Sheba of our cities,
despairing under the tree of our headlines?
Who is she whom we choose to be our Hagar,
our outcast, she who is made invisible,
she whom we thought we could do away with,
could make foreign, make strange,
turn into an other,
but who is truly ours?

                           •

How do we take her back?
Where do we find that land
big enough for us both?
How are we healed of our own cruelty,
sending her, of our own heart,
away, always away?
Where do we find those open arms
that await us,
that teach us to open our arms?

                           —June 22, 2017

In the Northern Hemisphere
it’s the longest day,
though the heat of summer
won’t peak for a couple months.
Consequences are usually delayed.
Insight always trails after revelation.

In the Southern Hemisphere
it’s the longest night,
which is always a promise
that the light is coming back.
Everything has bounds.
Darkness opens itself to the light.

In both hemispheres
it’s good to remember,
easy to forget:
no season is forever.
Yours isn’t the only reality.
Each moment, and the whole life you live
is part of something greater.

___________________
Weather Report

Solstice.
Be where you are;
you won’t be for long.

                           —June 21, 2017

            We have been buried with Christ by baptism into death,
            so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of God,
            so we too might walk in newness of life.
                           —Romans 6.4

The rain stopped long ago; skies are blue.
But on the morning path the breeze
shakes down showers
the trees have been holding onto.
I will gladly drown in this blessing.

            •

Awakening this morning in bed,
as my conscious mind opened up
it filled with what day this is, who I am,
what I intend and fear.
As I sit in prayer I let it all drain out again,
to be mindful of God instead.

            •

In my morning shower I rinse off
lots of stuff that’s not really me.

            •

My work today is to drown in God,
to return to that blessed death
I have touched at times,
to remember my baptism and be glad
that I have passed away
and there is only God remaining,
and live in that newness.

            •

___________________
Weather Report

Floods,
which hopefully will sweep you away,
your life a mess of mud and grace,
as you find yourself in a new place.

                           —June 20, 2017

            Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?
            Yet not one of them will fall to the ground
            apart from God.
                           —Matthew 10.29

Little one, most ordinary,
without bright plumage
or heroic migration or beautiful song,
I see you. I delight in you.
The sky you fly through is my heart.
The ground you pick at is my hand.
The seed you savor is my flesh and blood.
I love you not for your appurtenances,
but for your soul.
I know you from inside:
I am the Love that draws you into being,
and you are my love,
flown around the sky to return to me.
I have chosen to appear
as a sparrow among sparrows.
Yes, there are others. I am in them also.
With a sparrow’s eye for detail
I know you. I go with you.
You will fly, and you will fall.
But you do not fly or fall apart from me.
Your flying and your falling is mine.
It is I.
Go, little one. In every moment
it is I.

                           —June 19, 2017

         Look at God’s love for us:
         while we still were sinners Christ died for us.
                  —Romans 5.8

Jesus didn’t go get himself killed
so he’d be punished for our sin instead of us.
Our sin is our inability to trust God.
In our distrust we try to make and keep life for ourselves,
and hurt others in the process.
In love God is willing to stand in the path of our violence
with forgiveness.
God’s love changes us, setting us free
from our distrust and violence.
Jesus embodies that love, even though we kill him,
offering it before we’re willing to accept it.

Let God love you.
Forget all notions of your deserving.
Just allow yourself to be God’s Beloved:
a sinner, yes, but beloved. Deeply loved.
That’s all you need.
Let yourself be loved,
and let the love take over.

―June 16, 2017

         Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples
         and gave them authority over unclean spirits,
         to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness.
         … These twelve he sent out….
                  —Matthew 10.1

                  The word apostle means “sent.”

We are not given a mandate to judge
or an obligation to convert.
We are not required to argue religion.
We are given power to heal.

We need not muster up the strength.
We are given authority.
Christ is in us to heal.

May I be a healer today;
may I set free those who are bound
by spirits that diminish life.
May I cast out fear with love,
cast out greed with wisdom,
cast out anxiety with calm,
cast out anger and bitterness with deep listening,
cast out hate with forgiveness.

May I bear your spirit of peace,
the authority of blessing,
the power of love.
May I be a healer today.

―June 15, 2017

            Will you still need me, will you still feed me
            when I’m sixty-four?
                        —The Beatles   

God, thank you for another year of this life:
for the journey, the continual unfolding;
for your unfailing companionship in every step;
for the Spirit that leads me on,
and the flesh that bears me as it can;
for wisdom that grows;
for love that endures;
for the long adventure of letting go;
for who you have enabled me to be,
and for who I am becoming.
I pray for the coming year,
that I will be more deeply present,
more gratefully trusting,
more fully willing to be led.
Grant me another year of wonder.
As a birthday present for you,
born anew in me each day,
I give you myself,
to enjoy and use according to your delight.
  

                           —June 14, 2017