I am a child of God,
         God’s beloved, in whom God is pleased.
I dwell in the arms of God.

You are a child of God,
         God’s beloved, in whom God is pleased.
You dwell in the arms of God.

We all are children of God,
         God’s beloved, in whom God is pleased.
We all dwell in the arms of God.

                                                           ―August 28, 2017

         “Who do you say I am?”
                  —Matthew 16.15

You are the Beloved,
you are my bread and wine,
my peanut butter and jelly, my chocolate.
You are my teacher, my rescuer,
lover of heaven, light of my way.
You are God’s selfie,
and my best mirror.
You are the One in whom I meet my many,
the world’s many, all of us one.
You are my breathing coach,
my soul’s midwife,
the reaching out in me,
lover that lights my love,
comedian in my tragedies,
pitcher my hope pours from.
You are the hole through which
God springs out of my life.
You are the one who knows,
and who never makes fun of me.
Trickster, host and scout,
you hide in every low place,
find the question in everything
show me the holy in everything.
When I burrow into my ruin
you are the one I met there,
preparing a table.
You laugh at my sin, hold my despair,
sleep in my boat, stand on my forgiveness,
walk my way, die my death.
You are my next life, germinating in me.
On my cross, in my grave you wait for me.
You are my resurrection.
And so you are for the whole aching world,
for this holy, spinning universe,
that sings in harmony for you
our thanks to God.

                                                          ―August 25, 2017

         Do not be conformed to this world,
                  but be transformed by the renewing of your minds,
         so that you may discern what is the will of God—
                  what is good and acceptable and perfect.
                           —Romans 12.2

Society presses upon you to copy
dress and manner, thought and value,
what will anger or attract you.
Ignore it. It’s fear whining for company.
It’s a shield against celestial radiation.
Tune out the market’s frantic clatter.
Be changed by a new way of thinking:
not thinking: an opened awareness,
a mind of wonder and gratitude
and the strangeness of being loved.
Conform to nothing but the grace of God.
Each moment the Mysterious Blessing
dawns in you, allows a newness,
sings a song their ears can’t hear.
Let the Great Love in you make harmony.
The tune is already there,
the ear and the voice.
Let it meld in perfect harmony.
Passersby will hear songs from your door,
from the woods rises music
that’s lovely, good and beautiful,
the delight of God.
 

                           —August 24, 2017

Beloved, we are all one in this.
The Spirit is yearning in you,
the mercy of God birthing in you.
Give all of yourself to God,
not just your mind:
your hands and eyes,
your breath and loins,
your hungers and your energies,
your skin and its secrets,
your frailties and weaknesses
and their graces.
Put yourself on the line,
your meat and bone.
Burn yourself up on the altar of God,
given over entirely,
every word and every move,
a living, complete dedication to God.
Trust that you are perfect for God:
a holy, gift, delightful to God.
All your worship in pew and in private
is prelude to this:
today your body is the vessel of God.

                           —August 23, 2017

Who knew it would be so like
looking into the human soul,
the wonder and mystery,
the light and dark so mingled,
each made glorious by the other,
the awe at how one can overcome
and the other relent
for a while—
and how unlike,
this celestial dance
laid out since the beginning,
while your next shining or obscuring
is now and always,
unknown until you make it,
a choice.

                           —August 22, 2017

Womb of light
from whom we shine,
but whom we cannot see
but by looking away,
only the unseen hides you,
eye of darkness,
ring of light,
mystery of day’s bright night.
We too are you, eclipsed.
Let our horror of losing you remain.
What conceals you
reveals you, but only
the merest edges of your flaming face
we can never see straight on.
We gaze anyway
at light and dark
strangely embracing.
The light is changed.
We look through a glass darkly,
we stare down at pages oddly lit,
we close our eyes to see.
We walk through the rest of our day
and even into the befriended night
looking, seeing, changed.

                           —August 21, 2017

Thou,
Holiness,
One,
in morning stillness
I walk among you.
From dark earth beneath
you branch out above me.
From dark space beyond
you shine down among us.
In darkness hidden deep
your invisible angels
of bug and fungus fashion glory,
working their feast of rot and fermentation,
your millioned resurrections.
Your trees and I breathe each other,
in and out.
They branch out in me.
I breathe in them,
each breath a hymn.
I move through you,
the holy space between us;
the air of you is charged
with light, with birds, with praise.
Our flights are song,
our greenness is praise,
even our stones,
         being,
                  praise,
their silence your purest praise.
I waken to my belonging.
How could we
         — even I—
ever stop
                  — even in death—
praising you?

                           —August 7, 2017

         Jacob was left alone;
         and a man wrestled with him
                  until daybreak.
                                    —Genesis 32.24

You and your angel
are perfectly matched,
         neither winning nor losing.

It doesn’t matter
with what or whom you wrestle;
         you have to wrestle.

You have to be brought
to the limit of your power
         to know, beyond it, God’s.

You and God cheek to cheek,
that’s when the blessing comes,
         the letting go, and you limp free.

You still have to face your troubles,
but the hard part is over.
         You’re already blessed.

                           —August 4, 2017
 

         Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak…
         Then he said, ‘Let me go, for the day is breaking.’
         But Jacob said, ‘I will not let you go, unless you bless me.’ 
                  —Genesis 32.24, 26

The angels you’ll have to wrestle with most often
are no strangers:
they’re your anger, fear, control, defensiveness,
your despair, blame, insecurity, avoidance.
You won’t get away without a fight.

They may also be God’s forgiveness,
the Beloved’s absolute acceptance,
God’s serenity in the face of your betrayal,
God’s accompaniment in your troubles.
You won’t accept them without a fight.

You’re not wrestling with what’s happening;
you’re wrestling with your feelings about it:
not the problem but its difficulty,
not the suffering but how you take it personally.
The angels are not your world, but your self.

So wrestle. Grab them firmly.
Feel their breath on your neck,
their body against yours,
the weight of their intent.
Let your sweat mingle.

Learn their moves.
They’re your sparring partner,
not out to destroy you
but to shove you into the face of God.

Who knew divine intimacy
could be so hard?
 

                                ―August 3, 2017

         The disciples came to him and said,
         “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late;
         send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages
         and buy food for themselves.”
         Jesus said to them, “They need not go away;
         you give them something to eat.”
                  —Matthew 14.15-16

You want to send them away,
the moment’s multitudes,
demands that throng,
the insurmountable.
You do—don’t you sometimes?—
want to send them away.

You want to send away the crowds, the others
whom you can—can’t you?—ignore.
But you are to feed them.
You are here for their sake.

Where does that voice come from
that says, “Hopeless,”
that says, “The vault of God is empty?”
It is not from the Beloved.

The universe branches out in you.
Unseen as the salt of the ocean, the heat of the day,
the power of God looms inside the air before you,
abides in your seemingly empty hands.
Open them.
You can channel the abundance of God.

You are a door.
You can trust, though you can hardly imagine,
what lies behind you.

___________________
Weather Report

Profusion,
as your own narrows
give way to the broad sky of grace.

                                     ―August 2, 2017