Unfolding Light – Page 333 – Daily Reflections and Worship Resources

Dear Shadow

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

He was in the wilderness forty days,
tempted by Satan.
—Mark 1.13

You who shadow me
you are the part of me
that is afraid to be me

the part who does not believe
in who I am
or trust that it is enough

Anxious One, always needing
needing to prove
needing to possess

I will hear you
for I cannot silence you
But I will not obey

I will sit with you, still
I will learn to walk through you
like a shadow

For I too have my secrets
hidden in plain sight:
I am not alone

Spirit fills me
Christ accompanies me
You have no power

I Am
this is sufficient
and God’s doing, not yours or mine

Dear Shadow, poor thing
come sit with me
and be at peace.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

God of Love,
God of Abraham’s wonder and Sarah’s laughter,
bear us in the heart of your hope;
birth us from the womb of your sacrifice;
hold us in the arms of your Covenant.
May your self-giving, which is our life,
give us gratitude for your grace,
courage to serve those who suffer,
and trust that we shall die and be raised
by the power of your love alone.
Gracious God, you who suffer for us
more deeply than we can imagine,
may we live and love faithfully
in the name of Christ. Amen.

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

How to be alive

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.



         Those who want to save their life will lose it,
         and those who lose their life for my sake,
         and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.
                  —Mark 8. 35

What you can hang onto
is the corpse.
What is life
is freely given.

•

You are the cocoon;
love is the butterfly.
Which will you be?

•

Life is what you receive
when you’ve given yours away in love.

•

It’s when you sing the song
that it becomes beautiful.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

Take up your cross

Dearly Beloved,Grace and Peace to you.

Meditate slowly on these words.

Jesus said: Deny yourself
and take up your cross
and follow me.
—Mark 8. 34-37

Renounce the illusion that you are an isolated self

contained in your body alone.

Beloved, you live in God, and are a part of God,

a member of Christ’s body.

The Spirit in you is in all people,

with whom, in that Spirit, you are one.

Enlarge your loyalty from that illusory little “self”

to the whole.

Let the indwelling Spirit expand your heart

with God’s compassion,

compassion for all people.

In this loving kindness, be mindful

that you are given the willingness

to love all people, no matter the cost,

and even to suffer for them for the sake of love,

since your life is greater than your comfort.

In your willingness to suffer with others,

you are with Christ;

and wherever you go, the Faithful One is with you.

This is your deepest desire:

not to be securely self-contained,

but to be with God, in the most intimate way.

In compassion, even in suffering, this is your bliss.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

You are with me

Holy One,
Light of my shadows and Way of my wandering,
you are the desert in whom I find myself;
you are the presence in whom, in solitude, I am not alone.
Walk with me into the wilderness of my sin.
Expose what is hidden that I need to see;
receive what is broken, that it may be healed;
forgive what is hurtful,
and bless what returns me to life.
By your grace may I find in my shadows your glorious image,
and in my broken heart your crucified Christ.
For you are my only power, my only security,
and the source of my truest self.
Gracious and Loving One,
I walk through a valley of shadows and death:
you are with me, and I trust you. Amen.

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

Where the wild things are

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.


         And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.
         He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan;
         and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
                  —Mark 1. 12-13

Go with him
into the deserted places
where mind won’t survive,

deep in your wilds, exposed,
with the beasts,
feral, shifty, wise

in their wordless ways,
their primal hungers,
their devouring instincts,

disappearing easily
into your canyons and outcroppings.
You don’t vanquish them,

you watch,
and learn to survive among them,
and witness the mystery,

how they lie down beside him.
Even they know
these washes and gulches

are a palm.
In this extremity,
you find your place

among your terrors,
your wastelands,
your angels.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

Dust to dust

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

It’s not easy to tell people they’re going to die. It’s not easy to tell dozens of them, one by one, face to face. They came forward willingly, as if to hear something they wanted to hear. I marked their skulls. I smudged their foreheads with mud, with ashes mixed with oil. I looked them in the eyes. “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Old people not far from dusthood, some whose loved ones’ dust has only recently settled, young people hopefully far from it, a few who had narrowly escaped it, and many of them dear to me. I felt the loss as I marked their foreheads, as if I were doing dozens of funerals. Naming the dead. After a while it got sad. I wanted to quit.

But they kept coming. They kept facing their own mortality with calm beauty, with clear eyes, with beating hearts, strong hearts, loving hearts. They lived their lives, even if they were only as long as the line up the aisle, with courage and compassion. They carried their dust through the world with faith, leaning on Jesus, aware that they were nothing but dust and love, and ready to leave the dust behind.

I thought of the early Christians, marked with real crosses, walking lovingly to their death. I thought of Civil Rights marchers, facing violence with faith and courage. I came to believe that I was among a body of people around the globe who will live with love in the face of death, and whom therefore death cannot defeat. My own dust mattered little. It was the love I clung to.

What could I do but join them — to mark my forehead with the dust of death and the ashes of repentance, as one who has died, and walk out of my grave into the light?

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Ashes

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

All that was precious
and heartfelt is nothing
but ashes,

a smudge
borne away
on your forehead, God.

I am dust
and to dust
I return,

in your hands,
awaiting
your breath.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Burying the alleluias

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

Among the untranslated words of our liturgy, Alleluia is dear. A word of love, a word of praise and joy, a word of gratitude for grace, a it can make a whole song all by itself. It’s a sweet, rich word. Of course, like all our words — like anything sweet and rich — it can be overused.

Sometimes, like junk food, our alleluias come and go too easily. We can sing alleluia out of desperation to feel good. We can sing alleluia in denial of the depth of the grace we’ve been given, and its cost. We can sing alleluia in denial of our deep sorrows, in denial of our suffering and the suffering we cause, of our sin, our terrors, our broken hearts and our guilt. Sometimes our alleluias are too easy, too self-satisfied, too self-centered. Not always. But, like sweet, rich food, they can be overused.

It’s not always time to party. Sometimes what we need to say is not alleluia, “praise the Lord,” but eleison, “have mercy.” Sometimes our alleluias fall silent in the face of injustice: the oppressed are not yet free, and it is not yet time to exult. Sometimes we need to fast from our glib happiness and tend to the sorrows of our hearts and of the world. We can’t have our alleluias on demand; sometimes we have to wait. We need to listen in silence to the cry of the cross, so that the Alleluia of resurrection means something.

So in Lent, as we fast from rich, sweet foods, we fast from our rich, sweet Alleluia. On Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras, in French) an old tradition is to use up all the fat — the milk, eggs and butter in the house (usually in pancakes). And we use up all the alleluias. A liturgical tradition for this day includes burying the alleluias, carrying a small casket out of the church and interring it, as we would for someone we love. It’s a tender moment.

Use up your alleluias today. Relish the word. Walk around singing it, saying it, praying it. Rejoice in being “shriven” — having confessed and been absolved (hence another name for today, “Shrove Tuesday”) — before you enter into a season when your freedom is still being worked out. Then tonight, bury your Alleluias. Kiss them goodbye. Wish them well. They will go down into the darkness, into the silence, to be drowned out by the moans and the cries. Let them go. They have infinite life in them. They will arise again on Easter, having seen Hell and transfigured it, and returned, singing.

But today do not worry yourself about the dark journey to come. This is the day the Lord is creating. Let us rejoice and be glad. Alleluia!

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Sing

Music of Life,
sing in me.

Heavenly rhythm,
dance in my heartbeat.
Beautiful voice of the universe,
sing in my breathing.

Every moment
I listen for your love song,
I move to it,
I live in harmony with it.

I am a note in your music.
Your whole symphony is in me.

In the dark places
where singing is not heard
I will sing.

Music of life,
God in me,

sing.