Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes”
— Luke 19. 41-42

Peace is not mere quietude; it’s harmony. What makes for peace is not an ideology or a political strategy or any formula. It is active engagement in relationships marked by compassion, respect, nonviolence and justice. It requires self-sacrifice and the willingness to reconcile and connect across perceived “otherness.” It requires the desire to live in harmony with one another and care for each other’s well being. It requires us to honor others, no matter how different they may be. It requires us to be vulnerable, and when we receive ill treatment or even violence it means we do not return it. It requires forgiveness. In other words what makes for peace is love.

It’s not an idea, but a way of relating. And the only way to know it is to experience it. To recognize the things that make for peace we have to receive peace. We have to experience the deep harmony, grace and connectedness in which God sustains our lives, so that we can live in that peace with others. So we come to Jesus’ cross and behold the peace of Christ. In Jesus’ peace, in his forgiveness and unfailing love and steadfast nonviolence we see how God loves and heals and forgives and frees us, how God gives of herself for the sake of reconciliation, how God suffers our violence and injustice and does not return it or retaliate. In the cross we see that nothing can deter God from living in harmony with us. And we see how inviolable our souls are, how it is God and not our own efforts that secures our life, so that we can have courage to risk for the sake of healing, justice and reconciliation, so that we can take up our cross for others.

Come to the cross, to the place of our deepest anguish, and find God there, granting peace. The peace of Christ be with you.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright (c) Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

His “triumphal entry,” they call it,
riding into the city on a donkey.
Listen, you can tell where this is going
just by looking at him.
Dust of the roads on his feet,
speckled by sinners’ tears.
The smell of fish and baking bread,
incense and lepers on his clothes,
blood on the hem of his garment,
the frame of a man who walks a lot.
Rough knees and kind hands.
Eyes that sparkle with sadness,
everyone’s sadness, taking it all in,
and a smile that weeps with you,
that knows a world’s sorrow
without telling, and a world’s joy.
See how he notices the burdened ones,
the weepers and limpers,
the crutched and shunned ones,
old ones who hover in doorways,
a ragman collecting shame and shadows,
and those who live in them,
how it seems as if he’s gathering names?
Feel that wind? This praise is a spring snow:
it will soon vanish into what we really mean.
These are his royal subjects,
the cast-off and mangled,
possessed and dispossessed.
He draws these tatters and disasters into a kingdom,
rides his patient donkey down the road,
down into the crowd where it opens like a wound,
resolutely down into the tragedy and our longing
where we feed on him and he is with us.
No threats can stop him,
no force, no cross deter him from this,
(and not some aftermath) his hope, his throne,
his triumph.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?’ just say this, “The Lord needs it.’ ” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.”
—Luke 19.29-34

Sometimes God requires something of us—maybe as grand as our vocation, or as simple as our belongings. The Creator who is still creating, the Savior who is even now healing the world, needs something of ours, or something of us, to do this holy work. “The Lord needs it.” We never know when God will take our simple gift and make something powerful with it, even miraculous. We can’t know what gifts she will need, or when a stranger will appear on our doorstep on behalf of God to beg of us that one needful thing. All we can do is be ready with all that we have, and all that we are, to allow the Beloved to take what is needed. We live in prayerful openness, in ready willingness to give this day, this moment, this breath, to the unfolding of God’s grace. The call will not likely be expressed in so clear a way as four simple words. It may come as a silent inner murmur, or a cry from the world. However the call comes, we are ready to fully surrender anything at all, and even live each moment, simply because “the Lord needs it.”

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
— John 12.3

Every morning
before you are raised from the dead,
the Beloved, who adores you
and understands what you are about to suffer,
anoints your feet
with the costliest perfume
made of pure glory
and wipes them with her hair.
The day is filled with the fragrance
of her love.
And all day long she breathes in
the smell of your body in her hair.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight(at)hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas said, “Why was this perfume not sold?” … Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
— from John 12.1-8

Mary is Christ,
standing with another in his pain,
companioning him in his death,
pouring out her life for another’s balm,
enduring scorn with gentleness and compassion,
peering through her fallen hair
into the kingdom of hope.
She embraces death as all of ours,
seeking not to flee it but to face it with grace,
concerned not with how she can be saved
but how she will be spent.
She is the model for our faith:
taken in passion,
blessed in generosity,
broken in sorrow,
given in love,
filling the house with the fragrance
of her healing miracle.
All you faithful, honor her:
let down your passion’s locks
in the crowded rooms of this life,
your fingers trembling over the feet
of your doomed Beloved,
the fragrance of his death in your hair.
Pour yourself out for those who suffer,
and the one you will not always have with you
will be with you always.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

No extremes today.
No crisis, no balmy paradise, just a day.
The point is not to achieve ecstasy,
or to bravely survive a trauma
(those are the highs of our addiction to adrenalin);
it’s to be awake, and to devote ourselves
to the sacrament of the present moment.
Simple things are sufficient for wonder.
Ordinary. Boring even, if it is so.
But holy.

____________________________
Weather Report

Mild and partially clear,
as ice falls, heat waves,
hurricanes and dust clouds
bluster elsewhere to distract us.
You have made it through storms;
you can weather this.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight(at)hotmail.com

<0>Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

May those who sow in tears
reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
carrying their sheaves.
— Psalm 126.5-6

This path of life bears us through sun and shade,
valleys and mountains, pleasure and sorrow.
You, O Love, are the path.
I walk through sadness and difficulty with you,
and through joy accompanied.
You are the tears I sow,
seeds of sorrow scattered
on the soil that receives them.
And you are the sheaves of joy
I hold to my chest.
Sorrow is a sowing, a scattering
into receiving soil where miracles will come,
where rejoicing will arise.
Sorrow and rejoicing belong to the singing,
as sowing and reaping belong to the earth,
to the joyous cycle of living,
the great flow of all things growing into you.
O Love, I scatter myself into you,
and harvest the grain, singing.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation:
everything old has passed away;
see, everything has become new!
— 2 Corinthians 5. 17-18

O Love,
I am ready for a new Creation.
I am willing to be in Christ,
to be a word in your song,
a ripple of your pond.

I am willing to be made new.
Everything “mine” I let go of.
All that is “so far” I surrender.
I am ready to be re-created
scoreless, nothing on my record,
created, given, not accomplished:

as your Beloved,
ready for the stunning beginning,
the first day’s wonder,
the orienting hope,
the shimmering not-yet-knowing,
the wide field of the world,
lifted out of this narrow grave,
opening before me.

I am open
for everything, all Creation
to be made
in an instant,
the next miracle,
this present moment,
now.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” … The older son said, “For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.”
— from Luke 15

This is a story about two sons who are both selfish, and a father who is lavishly generous. As are all of Jesus’ parables, it’s a story about abundance. Notice that both of the sons treat the father the same: they do not care about him or his presence; they only want his stuff. Isn’t that how we pray most of the time? We ask God for stuff: “Heal this disease. Make this work out OK. Answer my petition.” But we don’t simply open ourselves to God’s presence. How seldom we pray, “God, no matter what happens, I just want to be with you.” It comes from our fear that there won’t be enough blessing. When we feel that God does not answer our prayers, it’s probably because we’re just asking for God’s stuff. But God’s answer to our prayer is always the same: “You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.”

Even in praying for others we can pray our selfishness— “here’s what I want” —and forget to pray our generosity: “Here’s what I trust; here’s what I offer.” Christ invites us to be prodigal (recklessly extravagant) in prayer toward God and others, even those who have hurt us. This spirit of abundance is rooted in our most basic prayer: our openness to God’s presence and blessing, and our desire to be present for the One who is present for us. It is to pray, “God, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.”

Listen for God’s Presence, and entrust yourself to it.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them…. He came to himself. … “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” … “Let us eat and celebrate, for this son of mine was dead and is alive again!’ … “I have been working like a slave for you.” … “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.”
—from Luke 15

There come times when we “come to ourselves” and know that we can not be the person we are trying to be. We have no choice but to let that person die. The younger son can’t be the independent, self-defined maverick. Nor can he be the repentant sinner. The father won’t treat him as either of those, but only as his Beloved. The older son can’t be the righteous one to whom something is owed. He, too, can only be the Beloved. Even the father can’t be the patriarch of a close, healthy family. He can only be Beloved.

You can’t be that person you are trying so hard to be: the one everyone likes… the one who is right… the middle aged person whose body works properly… the spiritually mature person who knows what you’re doing…. You try to be such a person, but you can’t. That’s all right. Let that person die.

When we let go of the person we think we ought to be, then we have no option but to receive the person God gives us to be. That one is neither sinful nor righteous, but Beloved. And, like the father in the story, one who has died and been raised is loving, generous, patient and forgiving. This is the mystery of dying and being raised.

Let the person you are trying so hard to be die and rest in peace. Let God, with infinite grace, grant you the person you truly are: Beloved.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com