Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

I’m off to Annual Conference, where we will spend most of our time talking about the Institutional Church, while the Risen Christ haunts us.  We will talk about budgets and policies and resolutions, while all about us and within us the Overwhelming Presence deeply and quietly breathes.  We will argue and vote and fret and take ourselves very seriously and when we are not looking, even in our dullness and oblivion, Life will give herself unceasingly to us.  Love will happen, justice and injustice will arise before us, lungs will somehow turn air into blood, death will pass into resurrection, and upon acceptance of the Committee’s Report we will break for lunch.

So our consciousness proceeds, from duty to detail, while all around us Life unfolds, from miracle to wonder. Incarnation weds the mundane and the numinous. Holiness throbs right beneath the veil of outward appearances.  So as you make your way through the brittle mechanics of our political and industrial culture, don’t be taken in by the ways of the world.  Play the game but remember that that’s what it is. Argue your points, fill out your paperwork and by all means call the question on the substitution of the amendment to the original motion.  Just remember to take yourself lightly.  Remember that none of this is real. What’s real is in another dimension within, in the world of awe and miracle and gratitude. Stay mindful of the Passionate One who caresses us even as we fiddle with the knobs.   Keep your heart tuned to the Mystery.  Pay attention. Do the chores and keep your eyes peeled for the Light.  It takes guts and wisdom, but stay faithful here: be ready at any moment to abandon the apparently necessary task for the crucial work of love and wonder.

I’ll be off tomorrow and Friday.  See you Monday.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright ©  2010
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

Whether or not there are literally angels flying around, I do believe that the Divine Presence companions us in ways we can’t see. Angels of some kind accompany us, though we do not usually have ways of noticing them. They shelter us under their wings; they go with us in our hardest times. Even in death we are borne in their feathered care.

In 1973 my family crossed the Atlantic on a freighter carrying wheat to England. Birds descended on the ship as it was being loaded, feasting on spilled grain. We left in the middle of the night. At sea, we discovered a sparrow on board. We figured it had perched on the ship overnight and not realized it was a mobile vessel, until it was too late. The German crew and our small handful of passengers—half of us American, half German— adopted her as our pet.

On our journey we skirted Hurricane Elsie. Huge waves broke over the ship; harsh winds blasted us. As large as the ship was, the waves tossed it around like a stick. We knew how tiny we were in such a vast ocean, how vulnerable we were in such a powerful storm. All of us in our own ways hoped for safety, prayed for protection. The captain prohibited anyone from going out on deck. Of course we all worried about the sparrow. No one saw any sign of her anywhere.

After the storm, we felt a deep sense of relief and renewal as we emerged and could walk about the deck safely again. That first morning everyone searched for the sparrow, but no one saw her. An odd quiet settled over us at lunch, as if we had lost a friend. But after lunch news quickly spread around the ship, in English and German: She was alive! She had been spotted by a crewmember. By that afternoon, several of us had seen her.

That she had somehow been spared—angels must have protected her—gave us a gift of hope and courage and gratitude. Knowing that every grain of wheat had been blown off the ship in the storm, we put out bread and water for her in little dishes for the rest of the trip, marveling that she had survived such a deathly storm.

When we came in sight of land, we knew we’d lose her. Sure enough, she circled up high above the ship. Knowing that we no longer needed her, our little guardian ascended into the heavens above us and headed off toward the white cliffs of Dover that shone in the morning sun. We, who had been so bravely accompanied, stood there, looking up into the air under the light, feathery clouds.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

Creating God,

make of this a birth-day,

a day of new beginnings,

day of the first Word,

before all sin or being forgiven,

new as all light,

rising dawn.

On this day, life-giving God,

birth me; set me in this world

to become more perfectly myself,

more fully who you create me to be,

an opening rose.

Make this day a day of birthing,

bringing to life

what you have sown

and woven within me,

letting it into the world,

unfolding light.

May it be as a dying-day,

released from all that was

into the coming world,

a word finally spoken.

Re-creating God,

let there be light,

and let me begin,

a newborn child.

____________________

Weather Report

Dawn,

always,

even in fading light,

as each moment in turn

becomes the first.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

O Listening Grace, hear me;
let the sigh of my heart lie against your chest.
Hold my cry like your child—
you who are Life and all Being,
the One to whom my prayers belong.
You hear me before my day dawns;
in the morning I put my desire in your hands
and I wait.

Evil is like darkness in your light;
in you my deadliness dies.
The closer I draw to you
the farther behind I leave my falsehood.
You see through our arrogance like glass,
and like glass you shatter our wrongdoing.
Your grace destroys our lies,
and our deceit evaporates in your truth.

Your mercy draws me into you;
your presence awes and awakens me.
Lead me, O Love, in your way of blessing,
despite those who would pull me elsewhere:
maintain the path so I don’t miss it.

There are those who are gushers of lies,
deep wells of hurt and destruction.
Their greed is a grave;
their fear is disguised as power.

Don’t let me fall for their deceit.
Let their disguises unravel about them.
Strip them naked of their lies
so that I can stay true to your grace.

Those who nest in you are safe forever;
our lives are songs of joy.
Surround us in your presence,
set free our joy in your embrace.

Your blessing is our inescapable gravity.
You hold us to you with love
as the earth holds us
and the air gives us breath.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

.
Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

.

Some day death with her seasoned hands

will come and change your bed,

lift the stale sheets from the mattress,

wrap her arms around you

and bear you off to the laundry,

and you will become clean and smooth.

.

Then why not let her once in a while

run her soft, ancient hands over you,

her long, steady white fingers,

and smooth out your wrinkles a little?

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

A woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.”

— Luke 7. 37-49

.

For all the sappy crayon drawings,
for the hopelessly cheap cards
sent by those who’ve never had to before,
for all the thanks that come from so far behind
they seem like pranks but are not,
for the secret favors, possibly wasted,
given in tangled thanks
for widely unrecognized but life-saving blessings,
for songs of heartfelt praise sung loudly and out of tune,
wearing a totally inappropriate dress,
for the hymns of prostitutes and the tears of drunks
and the awkward deals and ridiculous vows
of ex-cons, recovering creeps and former sleaze-balls,
for their laughable attempts, both noble and pathetic,
at some kind of tribute for the miracle
of being able to put one day in front of another,
for all the bizarre attempts at tokens of appreciation
botched by the invisible disfigurements
of the bullied and abused,
for all the slipshod, embarrassing, unacceptable ways,
in ignorance, poor judgment and terrible taste,
that the redeemed have found
to voice gratitude and amazement
at the simplest things,
at lives that are not as mangled as they started out to be,
for the once-cruel lover, restored,
who can’t stop laughing to tearseven in crowded places,
for the sloppy embrace of the slut
who’s been hit by the lightning of forgiveness,
for the homeless man, reeling from the novelty of respect,
who gives away his best piece of cardboard,
for the woman who bursts into sobs in church,
for every raw disclosure of the heart,
however garish or inept,

for these the Lord holds still,
and follows each tear on his feet
and gazing steadfastly says,
“Friend, thank you.”

And all you accomplished people
in right minds and good clothes and polished hearts
who have kept your composure and your treasure:
goofy as he looks doing that,
behold— he really means it.

.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

Touch the river
and you touch the mountain top,
the glacier, the dizzying waterfall.

Touch the river
and you touch the sea, vast and deep.
rumbling with whales.

Touch this moment
and you touch God, holy, infinite and eternal,
here, in this moment.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

.
Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Today Beth and I are celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary. In all the blessing, the love, the riches, the struggle, the self-discovery, the joy and the surprises of these thirty years, the greatest mystery is this: that through it all, in idyllic times and troubled ones, when it was easy and when it was hard, whether she felt like batting her eyelashes or rolling her eyes, she never left me, never gave up, never stopped loving me, never ceased to draw out of me my love for her.

Marriages go long and short, deep and shallow. Not everyone is as lucky as I. But I know this and trust it as surely as gravity: that love is at the heart of Being itself. Beth’s love is not an oddity in this universe. It comes from somewhere. And thought it’s taken hard work, my love is not a product of my effort. It’s a gift. These thirty years are a glimpse of eternity. The deep love we’ve experienced is a part of a greater, infinite love that burns at the heart of all things. There is One who loves you deeply, unfailingly, gently, despite all your faults, including the most terrible things you’ve ever done. The Loving One, the Embracing Mystery, knows you at your worst and loves you. She also knows you at your best, better than you know yourself, and draws you toward that perfection with a strong and tender force. The Infinite Spirit of Love does not judge “worse” or “better” in you; she simply loves you and holds you to the truth of who you are.

“The Lord has called you like a wife forsaken and grieved in spirit” (Isa. 54.6).

There is always more, deeper love to be had. That’s the part that takes hard work, commitment, self-examination and sacrifice. But it’s always, miraculously, abundantly worth it, a hundred times over. All you have to do is stay with her. Stay attentive, stay faithful. Receive her blessings. Learn her wisdom. Submit to her call in your heart. Serve her without hesitation. Love her. No matter what, give thanks. And riches beyond measure or deserving will be yours— now, for many years, and to eternal life.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

.
Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

.

God, today I pray

for gentle patience,
as the earth that holds me, whatever I do;

for the hospitable acceptance of what is,
as the breeze that blows as it is led
and flows around what it must;

for curiosity,
as the plants that seek light;

for steadfast strength,
as the weeds that return;

for a light heart,
as the geese that fly overhead
laughing at each other;

for deep compassion,
as the sun and the rain that fall upon us,
giving us light and life and beauty.

God, today I pray for your eternal Spirit
by which you create the world each new day
to live in me, to create me anew,
to make me beautiful and kind,
to make me yours.
Amen.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

.
Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, “Do not weep.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.

— Luke 7.12-15

If we take the gospel seriously it leaves us with a heart-wrenching question: if Jesus could raise the dead once or twice, why didn’t he always? What good is a miracle, even if it leads us to believe, if it’s nothing that’s ever really going to happen again? Why should we believe that he could raise the dead when in fact he won’t?

I don’t know.

But I do know that life is full of mystery, that death is real, and that compassion burns at the heart of all things. I know that death and suffering will not simply disappear. But I also believe that Love encounters us on our way, walks with us on each Via Dolorosa, and interrupts our funeral marches. And that therefore anything can happen. Our dead, even the most dearly missed and needed, even the most unjustly dead, are not likely to revive. But something is. I don’t expect that I ever know what the miracle will be. But I know that it is not impossible.

I’ve done enough funerals as a pastor, shared through enough people’s mourning, and lost my parents and a childhood friend, to know not to expect anything other than the permanence of death and the usual process of loss and grieving. But I also know that I don’t know everything, that Love changes things, that the unexpected can happen, and that new life rises—not in the body of the deceased, but among us nonetheless. Sometimes some weird miracle does happen.

I don’t know why Jesus doesn’t just do more miracles. But for me not knowing leads to openness, not despair. Because I don’t know, I know that anything can happen. Anything.

Be open.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com