Watch Jesus

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and peace to you.


One of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, "No more of this!" And he touched his ear and healed him.
— Luke 22.50-51

The church has theologized the heck out of the story of Jesus’ passion. When the doctrinal bricklayers get hold of it, it becomes little more than a monument, an audiovisual aid for a theological statement. But listen. It’s a story.

If you want you can read it as a story about the working out of God’s “plan.” But violence and injustice are not a part of God’s plan. Face it: that’s more like our plan. This is a story about our cruelty; about oppression and injustice, and the evil of military, political, economic and even religious coercion; about how individual evil lodges in social structures. It’s a story about death squads and hate speech, about Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib, about Oscar Romero and Martin Luther King, Jr.; about inciting angry mobs (yes, even these); about the demonic nature of capital punishment.

It’s story about fear. Everybody is scheming, or dealing in lies and threats and death, or fluttering into a panic with swords and defensive strategies, or posturing with false courage, or else in deep denial, arguing over who’s the greatest.

But mostly this is a story about a person. Throughout the story, watch Jesus. Keep your eyes on him. In every scene, at every turn, every opportunity, what is he doing? He’s just loving people. He gathers to eat with his beloved, and he gives himself to them. He washes their feet and prays with them. When Peter brazenly promises to stand by him, Jesus knows better, but he gently draws Peter back in, and gives him a way to go on, even before he fails. When they arrest him and violence breaks out, he stops it, and heals the very one who has come to arrest him. Even as he is crucified he provides for the care of his family and his community; he extends his love to the criminals executed with him, and blesses the people who kill him. It’s all about his undying love.

We’re easily distracted by the swords and tunics, the blood and violence. But watch Jesus. Watch his love at work, reaching out to the lost and shattered, reaching out even to you. In the end, despite all the tragedy, what this is, is a love story. And it’s about you.


Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



_______________________________

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

Your will be done

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

"Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done."
— Luke 22.42

God, you know better than I the troubles I hope to avoid.
I want to pray for safety, for comfort and security.
I want to pray for things to go my way,
for my life to be easy and pleasant.
But your Spirit in me will not pray for that.
Your delight for me is not in my circumstances, but in my soul.
Your will is neither that I suffer nor escape suffering, but that I love.

Your presence in me draws me toward you, into your blessing,
into your bottomless love and forgiveness.
In your compassion I am not afraid to go with you
into the dark places, the hurting places.
In your healing I do not resist entering the wounds of the world.
In your presence I need no other security.
I don't ask to be delivered from suffering,
but to be delivered into your hands.
I don't ask for things to go my way.
I ask that I may go your way.
I pray that your will be done, not to me, but by me.
I pray that I may trust you deeply,
and receive your blessings freely,
and that in that grace I may be loving,

now and always.


Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



_______________________________

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

Passover

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

From slavery in the Egypt of our sin,
slavery to what we have to do,
you free us.

You do do not send plagues but suffer them,
the death of your firstborn,
the loss of your every Beloved.

There is no sacrificial lamb
that is not you, no one made to suffer
who is not Christ crucified.

No blood is shed that is not yours,
sacrilege and tragedy,
surrendered.

There is no pain or violation
that is not yours, defiling
and yet forgiven.

No sin is paid for, but is absorbed,
suffered, and every sacrifice
compounds it.

We always think it right
to slaughter the innocent,
to require you to require absolution,

murderers disguised as supplicants,
lost to the power of our violence,
robbed of ourselves.

Centurions, we stand bloodied
over the steaming carcass and stammer,
“Oh, my God.”

Your uncomplaining blood frees us
from the tyranny of having to pass
our anguish on to others.

The angel of death, the demon
who would have us to end us,
passes over.

Through the Red Sea of your tears
we go with your blessing,
where only the forgiven pass.

Holy One, Lord of Tenderness,
slaughtered and ever beseeching,
spare us from our deathfulness.

Forgiving One,
unreturning our violence,
set us free.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



_______________________________

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

Hosanna

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord— the King of Israel!"
— John 12.13

Hosanna, “Save us!”

Save us, God, from all our shiny false gods
who take from us our honesty
and give us a drugged heaven of complacency.
Save us from our successful saviors
who protect us from reality,
our mighty armies that defend us from each other
at the cost of our souls.
Save us from our fear of being ourselves,
our fear of the Nothing of which are created
our fear of death, as if it could
take us from ourselves, or from you.
Save us from all the junk that we cling to,
that rusts even as we clutch it to our chests,
that sinks even as we hold it to stay afloat.
Save us from the selfishness that we justify.
Save us from trying to be saved instead of spent.
Save us from our despair, our resentments,
our poisonous replacements for compassion.
From the fear that we breathe
and the prayers that we lob at one another,
from the distractions that wrench us from this life,
save us.
From the lives we try to construct of our own desires,
save us.
From the habits and attachments and addictions
that run our lives into the ditch every time—
and yet we follow them as slaves—
save us.
By your mighty love, your wrenching truth,
your re-orienting forgiveness, your grace
that takes us and blesses us and breaks us and gives us,
that delivers us into the Heaven of this world,
that bears us into the infinite, eternal life of this moment,
that resurrects us always into your presence,
your love, your delight,
save us.
Hosanna. Hosanna in the highest.


Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



_______________________________

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

Full circle

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

“You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."
— Luke 1. 31-33

As we approach Holy Week we stumble upon one of those quirks of a literalistic interpretation of scripture: today, March 25, is exactly nine months before December 25, and therefore celebrated in the Roman tradition as the day of the Annunciation, when Gabriel announced the coming of the miraculous child to Mary. Never mind that the Bible says nothing of when Jesus was born; let's take it as it is.

This week Jesus' life comes full circle, and we see the fulfillment of Gabriel's promise: not that Jesus came to die, but that he came to love. Now we see Jesus on the cross, his throne, reigning in love, his compassion supreme over all forces, even the greatest powers of evil and violence, even the power of death itself. None of these puny forces can stand up to his gentleness; even the most crushing blows evil can think of do not budge Jesus in the least, or begin to dent his tender forgiveness. It's as if Caesar is trying to stomp on a little flower, and it won't even bend. Love is invincible. Christ's forgiveness is absolute. He reigns forever, and of his realm of healing, forgiveness and grace there will be no end.

As you stand here and contemplate the cross, under the reign of the Son of the Most High, I wonder if the promise comes full circle again? I wonder if I hear the voice of Gabriel. Is such sovereign compassion conceived in you today?



Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve


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

The peace of Christ

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

Triumphal entry

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

The Lord needs it

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(at)hotmail.com

Anointing

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

Mary Christ

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(at)hotmail.com

Nothing extreme

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

Psalm 126 prayer

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(at)hotmail.com

New creation

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(at)hotmail.com

Prodigal prayer

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

Come to yourself

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

Psalm 32

Blessing! You have forgiven me
My sin you have washed away.
You find nothing wrong with me.
What lives in my soul is true.

When I was not honest about my sin
it ate at me.
My body bore its weight all day.
It sapped my strength like a hot, humid day.

When I was honest with myself,
and stopped trying to fit the old of a “good person,”
when I gave you my real self, just as I am
you forgave me! You forgave me!

So when we want our lives to be blessing
we attend to you.
In you there is no distress:
even rushing floodwaters can’t reach us.

You are my safe place:
you stand between me and trouble;
you put your arms around me
You show me the way of Life;
you guide me from within.

I can act like a hungry animal, a stubborn mule,
all muscle and instinct with no intent.
But living from one pang to another
only begets more pangs.

While trusting in you,
I am bathed in steadfast love.
We are glad in you God! We rejoice!
We who love you sing for joy!


Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________

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

Woods are all around

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

The woods are all around, all around.
Night sky wraps itself about me,
snow cherubs sitting in the trees,
ornaments made of stars
hanging in bare branches,
the snow rounding everything up
to the next nearest shape.
The snow, not cold enough to squeak,
shuffles as I walk, making sounds
like turning over in bed.
A skinny, pre-pubescent moon
follows me without wavering.
I walk out into the meadow, look up,
and the trees are gone but not the ornaments,
or the shy little moon.
I remember riding in a car, real young,
dark out, forehead against the window,
amazed that the moon rode with us,
shooting through the trees, slipping
behind buildings and reappearing,
so calm, right there, staring at me.
All these years later, she's still here.
Standing on the belly of the earth
I can feel the earth breathing in her sleep
under this dream of snow.
What you said to me walks beside me;
I turn around and even in the dark
there is it, breathing little clouds.
I carry the bundle of my body out here,
with warmth I got earlier, from the sun
I guess, and from food from some far places.
My blood is a wild animal that stalks,
close, always hidden. My breath isn't mine;
each breath is given to me and given again,
though I can't see it in the dark. I believe
I am made of this stuff: snow and stars and
puffs of breath. Turning for home,
I think there is no such thing
as all alone.



Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



_______________________________

Copyright © 2010
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight(at)hotmail.com

Isaiah 55.1-11

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Listen. Are you thirsty?
Come.
What are the guts of your soul starving for?
Here. Eat. It's good.
Why spend yourself for junk,
for wrapping without food?
Listen: here is a Word you can feast on,
something you can chew on forever.
The Word is: Listen.
Just keep listening and you'll live.
The Holy One says, “I listen to you
like the moon listens to the earth.
I promise myself.
I've wed myself to you for generations.”
There is a royal part of your heart that knows,
that shines with regal splendor.
People won't know why they are drawn to that light.
(Because: the Beloved is in you!)
Seek the Present One in this moment,
not in some wish or regret.
She is here. Call to her and listen.
Let go of your life-pinching ways,
your fearful thoughts.
Turn instead to the Delightful One,
who will only be gentle with you,
who will forgive, and bless, and delight you
way more than ought to be possible.
(Of course this sounds strange.
Can you put your hand around the moon?
No, nor your thoughts around God.)
Loving Mystery says:
“Your thoughts can't get at me.
Your ways won't lead to me.
This is a different way of thinking,
a different way of being.
Let my ways transform yours, my thoughts yours.
Rain and snow fall, and don't turn around half way.
They water the earth and make it green,
bringing out seed for the sower and bread for the eater.
So is my love that rains from my heart.
It doesn't turn around half way.
It fulfills its purpose.
In it, everything is completed.
Here.”




Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve


_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Psalm 63. 1-8

Holy
One,
you are my Being.
I seek you.

My soul thirsts for you,
my flesh is weak without you;
I am a dry and thirsty land
without water.

I have seen you in the heart of things,
your power and glory right here.
Your steadfast love is better than life.
My being is your praise.

So I will live as your blessing,
and my mindfulness will be your name.
I who was thirsty have feasted.
I speak of you with my mouth full.

I soak in attentiveness to you as I go to sleep;
you are my first awareness as I wake.
You are my Life, my Heaven, my Friend.
In the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.

My soul comes from you.
You hold me close, strong and gentle.
Holy One, you are my Being.
I seek you.





Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



_______________________________

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
unfoldinglight@hotmail.com

Repent

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.


Those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.
—Luke 13.4-5

At some level we believe that there is such a thing as “deserving,” that somehow God or the universe keeps score of our past choices and then later rewards or punishes us for them. This is not true. Neither good fortune nor bad is a sign of anything but luck. (Workers are exploited... cheaters win... saints get cancer... good things happen to bad people and vice versa.) But our poor little egos, running on our logical right brains, can't get this, since they see everything in terms of predictability, formulas, cause and effect. So they just pretend that it's true anyway. And we live our lives chasing and being chased by guilt and worthiness. We live false lives, and the person we really are perishes.

Jesus invites us to jump off that not-so-merry-go-round that goes nowhere. “Repent,” he says. To repent doesn't mean to jump back on the reward-and-punishment merry-go-round only on a more righteous horse. It means to go a new way. It means to “turn,” to head in a different direction, and as we do, we “turn,” we change.

To repent means to turn away from the illusion of rewards and punishment, and return to the present moment, to return to God, who is only in the present moment. God is not in the past, or attached to the past. God is here, now. To repent is to join God in the present moment.

Certainly, we turn from evil and selfish ways. But not in order to get a better grade. We do it because God is pure compassion, and as we turn to God we are turned into God's reflection.

Return. Receive your life, your living, your breath, from God. Let this moment be a divine gift. Be present to the Holy in this moment. Then regardless of your luck, you will be with God.


Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve



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

Judgment of light

Dearly Beloved,


Grace and Peace to you.


This is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and we loved darkness rather than light because our deeds were evil. For when we do evil we hate the light and do not come to the light, so that our lives may not be exposed. But when we live what is true we come to the light, so that we may clearly see our lives in God.
— John 3. 19-21


Beloved, because you live perfectly within me,
I am not afraid to look there.

Because you inhabit my darkness
I am not afraid to hold it up to the light.

You shine yourself through my brokenness;
you pour your own darkness into my night,
filling the cavity of me,
as a candle fills the shape of a cavern.
From within my darkness, light rises.

In you my dense midnight becomes transparent;
my shadow becomes dear
and without fear I look through it.

Light of all Creation, light of love,
you forgive my sin
like light forgives darkness.

Light of my own true soul,
I am not afraid to walk into you.
I am not afraid for you to dawn within me.
I am not afraid to become you.







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

Getting the driveway done

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.


Perfect snow piles up on the branches,
perches on every post and wire,
puts big hats on everything.
The morning sun stands like a wizard
behind the big tree at the end of the driveway,
making little sparkles of light fall from it.
Gold and silver, amber, with a touch of blue.

I need to shovel the driveway before the snow
gets heavy, before we need to drive out.
I grab the shovel, and as I pass Buddha,
sitting on his little bench in the garden
by the corner of the garage, smiling,
he says, “I'll help you, if you help me first.”

I look at the driveway, five inches deep and
a hundred and fifty feet long. Buddha is
a nice guy, but he's made of cement
and is not likely to handle a shovel real well.
I look at him, his serene smile, his hands
resting on his knees like he's got all the time
in the world. I say, “OK.”

So I stand there with him and stare at the tree,
the light falling from it into the driveway,
the magic sparkles leaping off of everything,
white and silver and gold, transfiguring the air,
for a long time, until he is good and satisfied,
a long, quiet time beneath the passing sky.

Then we get to the driveway: even and patient,
stooping and throwing in a sublime rhythm,
scraaape and shuffle, scraaape and shuffle,
a rhythm from the old monastery, the temple drums,
the rhythm of presence, attentive rhythm,
content with our labor, heaving light into the air.
Short and stubby as he is, he's amazing with a shovel.





Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve



_______________________________

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