We argue, we fight, we maneuver,
we triumph, we despair,
and Jesus holds us
in his loving arms.

We fight and fling and grasp,
we are right or wrong,
we listen or do not listen,
we stake our turf, we hurt each other,
and Mother Christ holds us
in her only arms.

We argue as if
those crucial arms are not there.
We do not notice them, bloodied,
or rest in them.

The whole time we are throwing things
at each other God is holding us,
not agreeing or disagreeing,
just holding us,
all of us,
weeping for joy and sorrow.

 

I push the needle
through your hands and feet,
sew you into a lovely quilt,
a shroud for myself,
the thread of original desire
twisted into binding knots.
I make you an artifact
to warm me, shield me
from the failure of my love.
“The design is from God,” I lie,
ignoring the blood crying out.

And in your judgment
with perfect forgiveness
you wrap me in yourself.

I can’t cloak myself
in this wretched thing,
can’t put it down.

 

         “Were not ten made clean?
         But the other nine, where are they?
         Was none of them found to return and give praise to God
         except this foreigner?”
                  —Luke 17.17-18

Take nothing for granted,
even sunlight or breathing.
Don’t let your privilege blind you
to the sheer underserved miracle
of your blessings.
Don’t think you’re entitled
to colors or conversation.
Let gratitude overwhelm you,
sneak up behind you
and lift you off your feet.

Pick anything to practice on—
the sunlight on the poorly painted ledge
of the apartment across from yours,
standing as if ready to leap off
into your arms—
pick something, and give thanks.

When someone asks you how you are today
say, “Grateful,”
then use the surprised pause
to think of what for.
The person looking at you quizzically
may give you a hint.

 

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down
                  and there we wept when we remembered Zion. …
         O, you devastators! Happy shall they be
                  who take your little ones
                  and dash them against the rock!
                           —Psalm 137.1, 8-9

I don’t ask you to pray this prayer.
I don’t ask you to feel this rage, this sorrow.
Maybe it’s just not your psalm.
But it is someone’s.
I ask you to hold them while they weep,
that’s all.
Just be present for them, maybe hold their lyres
they can’t hold because their hands are shaking.

Maybe it’s their sons shot in the streets,
or their neighborhoods plundered by poverty.
Maybe it’s their lands ravaged by industry’s hunger,
or they’re weeping over the people they loved
that drove them out with war.
But don’t be foolish: they don’t want to kill babies.
They want to stop evil from begetting more evil.

Don’t tell them to calm down, to stand for the anthem,
to be patient, to reassure you with their restraint.
They need to cry out and we need to listen.
Let them pray a psalm that is not yours,
not yet.
Let them pray a prayer of hope
bundled like a refugee’s belongings in rags of despair.
Be silent, hold the space for them
and let them pray what sometimes
we don’t have the guts to pray.
Listen to them,
they will give us the guts.

 
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
Don’t look for God.
That’s too big,
an unsolvable problem,
an unknowable truth.

Look for life.
Look for what is deeply living,
freely, wildly alive,
wherever you find it,
in the created order,
in the human family,
in your own soul.

Look for what makes you alive,
what sets you free,
what puts breath in your heart
and color on the cheeks of your soul.

Look for where your life
is part of all life.

Look for life,
honor it everywhere you meet it
with devotion and humility.

Look for life
and the Holy One
will find you.

         

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and peace to you.

The apostles said, “Increase our faith!” The Teacher replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are ordinary slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”
                  —Luke 17.5-10

We long for deeper meaning,
and to make a difference in this world.
If you have even a little poppy seed of trust
in the infinite power of God’s love
you can say to the tree of injustice,
“Be uprooted and thrown
into the chaos of new creation!”
and it will be so.
We who serve the Realm of Grace
aren’t here to be served.
We’re not here for the world to wait on us.
We’re here because we care about this.
When we do our small part for justice
it’s not us, but God’s infinite love flowing through us.
We just say, “I’m an ordinary servant.
I’m simply living the life God has given me to live.”

Deep blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily email
write to me at unfoldinglight (at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         How could we sing the Lord’s song
                  in a foreign land?
                           —Psalm 137.4

The world around us can seem foreign:
strange ideals, the consumption of lives,
the poetry of evil, ill-costumed words,
violence slithering through smooth phrases,
death clad as commerce, fear as pride,
the noise of the glib machinery of injustice,
the wailing of anger, cynicism and dread.

How can we sing the song of peace,
the gentle air of love amid such clamor?

Be still and listen to the silence within,
the mothering heartbeat,
the sea of mercy breathing about us,
heaven humming a little lullaby,
a song for a child afraid to rest,
sung to us, soft, since our beginning,
song of the earth despite our cruelties,
song of slaves in chains and mothers in labor,
song of your own pulse and breath.
Listen. The Steadfast One is singing to you.

Go back to the stillness you came from
and listen.
Let the Lord’s song sing in you.
Let it become become your only voice.

         

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         Rekindle the gift of God that is within you.
                  —2 Timothy 1.6

You have a treasure in you,
a seed of glory planted from stars,
a song written for only you to sing.
You have gifts to give.

The treasure is buried,
and it may take some digging to recover.
The song is forgotten,
but still hidden in your bones.

Nothing that happens to you
can remove it, no fear or shame
destroy it, no failure ruin it.
It is who you are.

Rekindle the gift.
Listen for the quiet voice,
the Spirit of Life
singing in you.

Listen… and sing.
Tune your life to its melody.
Let it sing in you,
let it sing you into life.

Rekindle the gift
that is God within you.
Give God this joy— for it is
God who is singing.

      

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

         
         
You who live in trust of the One,
         who abide in the Holy Presence,
will say, “You are my refuge, my safety,
         my Beloved, to whom I belong.
You save me from those who would use me,
         from what would ruin my life.
You hold me in strong, gentle arms;
         in your company I find shelter;
         in your faithfulness I am home.”

You will not live in fear:
         bad news won’t disturb you,
         threats will not deter you.
Whatever troubles assail you
         your soul is still intact.
Evil will tear at those around you—
          you will feel its torrid breath—
          but it can’t touch your Belovedness.
Look and see with the eyes of your heart
         the agony of those who do evil.
But you trust the Beloved with your life,
         the One Who Holds This
                  with your very being.

Your struggles will not defeat you;
         your losses can’t destroy you.
The Gracious One surrounds you with love,
         companions you steadfastly,
shares your pain,
         keeps your hope alive,
with grace greater than your failings,
         healing deeper than your wounds.
You will stand up to ominous powers
         and resist devious schemes.

The Loving One says, “I am with you.
         I make of you more than you imagine.
Entrust yourself to me;
         I will carry you through this.
Let my love flow through you,
         and I will give you life,
         life that can’t be taken from you.”

         
         

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
First day of autumn,
season of diminishment.
Trees open the pages
of their psalms of lament,
their long slow humility.
Leaves mutter loss over and over.
Veined and wrinkled hands
like mine
let go.
The ground is a resting place
of brown and yellow bits of things,
seedfall and leafscatter,
rustle of death.

In my sixties
my days narrow now,
a passage of shedding.

And yet— in Australia this very day
is a first day of spring,
the other side of this passage,
this dying a rising
into something new, unburdened,
and alive.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

To receive Unfolding Light as a daily e-mail,
write to me at unfoldinglight(at) gmail.com