Thursday, September 30, 2010


Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Don't seek divine union,
not yet. That's a lot to ask for.
Don't seek wisdom or deep faith.
They take a long time to grow.
Don't bother with feeling God's presence.
Feelings are slippery things.
And to know the will of God,
well, that's ridiculous.

Simply want this:
to be free with God.

The blackbird cries raucously,
lifts from the dead branch
and swoops over the driveway.
And the sky,
the blue and white sky
loves it.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Psalm 137 - a prayer

We pray for exiles and refugees;
for those who have been displaced by war,
poverty, discrimination, poison or violence;
for those who have fled their homelands
for safety, for work, for hope.
We pray with them and join in their song.

          By the rivers of Babylon—
                   there we sat down and there we wept
                    when we remembered Zion.
          On the willows there
                   we hung up our harps.

We pray for all oppressors,
that their eyes may be opened,
that their hearts be changed,
that they find their own true, deepest longings for life.
We pray for them and plead for their conversion.

          For there our captors
                   asked us for songs,
         and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying,
                   "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"

We lament the families that are broken,
the cultures that are destroyed,
the traditions that are lost,
the voices that are silenced.
We weep with them and join in their song.

          How could we sing the Lord's song
                   in a foreign land?
          If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
                   let my right hand wither!
          Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth
                   if I do not remember you,

                   if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

We join in their grief.
We honor their terror.
We accept their anger.
We lift their cry.
We stand with them and join in their song.

         Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites
                  the day of Jerusalem's fall,
         how they said, "Tear it down! Tear it down!
                   Down to its foundations!"

We pray for the end to all violence
and the end to all the offspring of injustice,
that evil itself be demolished
and its spawn eliminated,
that every human heart be free of fear.
We rage with all victims of injustice
and join in their song.

         O daughter Babylon, you devastator!
                   Happy shall they be who pay you back
                   what you have done to us!
         Happy shall they be who take your little ones
                   and dash them against the rock!

We pray for exiles and refugees.
We are among them:
for until our sisters and brother are restored,
our home is not whole or safe.
We pray with them, and join in their silence.

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Mustard seed

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Among darkening mountains
sending roots down
into your despair
only a small thing in your hand
a rowboat among battleships
a soft song shredded by wind
What equals the wheelbarrow
before you full of laundry
or papers or stained bed sheets?
How does the bird find her way
to the Patagonian plains
or the salmon up the impossible stream?
What raises the oak?
What fills the moon so full? The sea?
Close your eyes and look around
the fingerprinted clay molded into you
along the bones of your years
the decaying soil of your will
beneath your continent
something shimmers
nothing more than a word
drawn up like a tide, a forest
a song sung by generations in harmony
a root that cracks the mountains
not the least bit anonymous
someone holds you close
in this umbilical world
a warmth is given
a rain falls on something
no greater than a mustard seed

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Monday, September 27, 2010

Dog mind

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

My dog lives in eternal prelude
to something glorious,
each moment a resurrection.
Whenever I get up from a chair he is sure
something great is about to happen.
The wings of his ears fly toward the smallest sound.
The click of the back door opening gets him panting,
his ears pointy. The doorbell or a car in the driveway
is occasion for eager frenzy.
The rattle of dog food pouring into a plastic dish,
the leash slipping off its hook, or the word “out,”
are springs of an ecstasy already granted.
Whenever I stand before my closet I might be
changing clothes. Surely those are running duds.
He sniffs every piece prayerfully.
Despite how often he is wrong, he is sure.
At dinner time in the basement he clatters
ahead of me to the bottom of the steps, turns around
and dances—dances, I tell you—leaping straight up,
David dancing before the ark—
elegant, righteous leaps, outbursts of hope
in holy celebration of the feast to come.
When he wants something—food, or going out—
even his longing is robust and confident,
trusting in things unseen, believing in me,
praying as if he has already received it, as if
even before your wishes are granted joy is possible.
What higher, troubled thinking might I shed,
what regret or calculating quit,
to attain this purity of hope?
Outside, for no worldly reason, suddenly
he drops his hips and fires off in a rocket run,
doing joy circles, for-the-love-of-it laps,
rhythmic explosions in his hind quarters,
ears a-wag, tongue a-flap, tail asunder,
outgunning all possibility of despair.
He rounds the field and heads back toward me;
his ears streaming flags, his tongue a scarf,
eyes shining with the glee that this moment—
he has never done before in his life
and it's his favorite part.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light


Friday, September 24, 2010

Psalm 91


If you totally trust God,
          you're already in heaven.
You're inside God,
         and nobody can take you out.

God stands between you and what scares you,
         between you and all the dangers.
Like a mother bear,
         she's got your back,
something serious.
         Don't worry.
Spend no fear on the terrorist from afar
         or the cancer from within,
the fretting that wakes you in the night,
         or the bridge you know will collapse.

Yes, suffering closes in around you at times,
         and tragedy walks your neighborhood.
But this is not the title of your story,
         not your end.
Learn to see with clear eyes
         how love never loses.
When you live inside the Beloved,
         and the world is a house that is God,
evil can't define you, can't change you,
         can't find you at all.

The Creator of the world fills it
         with those who bear her love to you.
They hold you in their invisible arms,
         they secretly catch you when you fall.

So stand up to what overpowers,
         don't flinch from what scares you.
You will meet monsters, learn their names
         and tame them with love.

Love says, “Here. Come settle in my heart.
         Nothing can take you from me.
When your soul cries out, don't worry—
         I'm already holding you.
In your worst trouble, I'm with you.
         I set you free. I honor you.
I give you the joy of life lived deeply.
         You will shine in me forever.”


Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Thursday, September 23, 2010


Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

We sit at our tables
things falling off
for the deep hunger we've lost
the one we were born with
for life, all of it, and earth,
and humanity,
all of it,
outside the gate.

We feed ourselves insatiably,
growing hungrier by the mouthful
tasting less
seeing, hearing less and less
lest we see through the gate,
lest we see Lazarus,
reclining in the gutter
of Abraham's bosom,
lest we see all of this wide life
in his tear-drained eyes,
lest we see this terror
that we're dying of hunger.

Safe in our torment
on this side of the great chasm
we still long for a drop of heaven's water.
Hungering for compassion, we have none.
Starving to live life, we don't.

O soul, in your familiar flames,
heaven is right here.
Go through the gate.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Last day of summer

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Summer's turned her face toward
the way she'll go, but hasn't yet.
It's I who turn, before the trees,
to thoughts of losses and regret.
But she reminds me, in the way
she offers up this gift, to let
the light move without effort, dread,
remorse or clinging through the leaves
(that are not dead today) and so
to move, attend, and still believe
this is a summer day—this day—
that I can cherish and receive,
each moment given, full
of that one moment's miracle.



Weather Report

Expect today today.
Tomorrow may form upwind of us
but it will remain consistently today
all day. Conditions will remain steady
and prevail into tomorrow.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

God is mindful

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

As you sit in prayer
and try to remain mindful of God,
failing because your thoughts wander,
remember this:
that God is perfectly mindful of you always,
attentive to your being and your doing,
never straying from your heart,
not missing a single breath,
or forgetting a single heartbeat.
God is never distracted, never forgets.
Without neglecting anything else in Creation,
for all of Creation is present in God,
God is fully present to you,
seeing not from afar but from within
your journeys, thoughts and feelings,
holding tenderly your sins and wounds,
delighting in your gifts and beauties,
fully aware of what you yourself
only dimly suspect deep within you.
God is in all that you see, and in your seeing,
in what you hear, and in your hearing,
in your wondering, in your sorrow, in your awe.
God is grateful for you, and delights in you.
God longs in you, grieves in you, exults in you.
God's gives full, peaceful, loving attention to you
all your day and all through the night,
not controlling or manipulating,
just beholding, blessing, loving
and breathing life into you,
powerful, joyful, beautiful, infinite life,
granting you mindfulness
and mindful always of you.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Monday, September 20, 2010

The vine

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

In the center of the garden grows an apple tree
         simple and beautiful,
with heavily scented blossoms in the spring
         and fruit each autumn.

In that garden is also a vine, thick and verdant,
         that always starts small.
If you let it, the vine will grow enormous
         and choke the apple tree.

Weather Report

increasingly foggy at lower elevations
of the subconscious,
continuing tomorrow,
though habits of self-reflection
will clear the air
over time.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Friday, September 17, 2010

Psalm 4

O Love, you believe so surely in me!
         You hear my soul, my silences.
When I have been hemmed in,
         you have set me free.
Hold me in your smiling gaze and hear,
         what I haven't spoken even to myself.

How long will I lose myself
         in other people's lies and delusions?
Holy One, I trust that you gather all to yourself;
         gather me now, gently.

When troubles disturb the pond's surface,
         the depths need not stir.
I will not find peace or truth in worry
         but in silence.
Love, I trust in you;
         Holy One, I offer myself to you.

Some clamor for obvious signs,
         for God's face to look like their wishes.
But it couldn't be any clearer:
         your joy that blossoms in my heart
is more real than all their successes.
         Your face is my sun.

I can relax. I can even lie down.
         I can close my eyes in peace and sleep.
O Devoted Presence, you alone
         let me release myself into you.

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Thursday, September 16, 2010

The prodigal manager

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.
"There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property....” Jesus tells this story (Luke 16.1-13) in which the manager, about to be fired, continues to squander his master's property, reducing all the man's accounts receivable. But the master ends up praising the dishonest manager! Weird, huh?

People have have a hard time making sense of what lesson we are to take from this tale. But what if it's not a lesson, but a snapshot? I imagine that God is the one who is “rich” in love, and Christ is the ridiculously generous manager, and he is indeed squandering God's love, forgiving God's debtors, and losing capital for the sake of relationships. Jesus says you can't serve two masters, and he himself chooses love over profit.

What if God is perfectly happy to be ripped off, and praises those who squander divine love? What if being unable to serve two masters (or purposes) applies to God, too—and God chooses forgiveness over getting what is “owed” to God? What if God prefers relationships over profit, and love over deserving? What if God finds it satisfying when we forgive debts, even—especially— debts that (we suppose) are owed to God? What if we were to emulate Jesus and convince people that they are not so ding dang indebted to God, but really just beloved? What if in fact God does not want people's business, but their friendship?

It could get confusing. Like Jesus' parable. We could find ourselves so tangled up trying to understand it all that our only hope is for the manager to come along and excuse us from having to get it. “Forget all that righteousness stuff,” he says, “or having to 'get' the parables or understand or even believe in God. Write it off. Just be sure and say 'Thanks' next time you see God.”

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Thou art the one

Whatever hand or stream that bears this world,
whoever wove the nebulae of stars
and lungs and dreams, who gives such wonder flesh,

whoever draws the holy geese to flight,
whatever makes the trees to reach for light
and roots for hidden springs, and me for you,

whatever presence makes and breathes within
the weeping child, the child who looks and clings,
whatever makes her dance, or sing, or try,

whoever drums the silent march of hope
in those who persevere to overcome,
or give their tender hearts away in love,

who made this flesh to throb with life and light,
the fallen tree insistently to sprout,
the pond to reek and swell and chirp and thrive,

whatever wonder sparks this fire in us,
whatever grace conspires to set things free,
and grows our branching lives from common shoots,

who made the human heart—this heart—to throw
its rising, falling waves against the shore
of this slow-yielding, rough, but wondrous life,

whoever gave to me these tears and doubts
like gravity that pull me down toward
your unseen bosom, waiting, unfelt arms,

whoever is the mystery beyond
all things, within me, in whose beating heart
and breath in me I am within all things,

whoever made this soul to ache for you,
this burning soul that is not sure of you,
that, whelmed, devout, unknowing, dies for you,

Thou, whose only absence, out of all
imagined things, alone can break my heart:
Thou art the one, the one, I long to love—

yet do not find, or hold, or know, or sense.
Your voice and mine a perfect silence make.
What is this rising, then, in me toward you?

It is the only name I have for thee,
this cry, this open-handed leap of doubt,
thou mystery, whoever you may be.

So I will let my longing be your praise.
And I will let my yearning be your voice.
And I will let my wonder be your will.

And I will let your calling be my call,
the love that I did not conceive, yet bear,
your arms around me: love for you, for all.

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Bad guys

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.


I read headlines about cruelty,
about mean-spirited people
         … and I want to be mean to them...
                  and I know I've lost.

I hear about bigots
who want to spread fear
         … and fear rises in me...
                  and I plead for mercy.

The world is full of bad guys
and I am one of them.
         What matters is
                  the direction my heart is facing.

We will not be saved
by extraordinary people
         but by regular bad guys
                  receiving and giving mercy.


Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Monday, September 13, 2010

Simple mind

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

God, keep my mind simple today:
free of fears and calculations,
mindful of your presence,
generously attentive to the present moment,
desiring only to love,
accepting of what is beyond my control,
willing to be used for your mercy.

Keep my eyes open to beauty and grace,
my heart grateful and ready to forgive,
my hands open to receive and ready to serve.

May my soul be a singing bird
on the branch of this day.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Friday, September 10, 2010

Search me

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.
What woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?

         — Luke 15.8

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
Where can I go from your presence?
It was you who formed my inward parts

         — Psalm 139

I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence.... But I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost of sinners, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience.
         — 1Timothy 1.13, 16

God, search me.
Find the lost parts,
the secret sins, the hidden treasures,
the forgotten strength, the silenced hopes.
Beneath the obscuring ways of this world,
the fear and self-serving,
find the saint lost in my abandoned places.
Find all of me that I have let wander
alone in valleys of darkness
and bring them back to me.

I know you take your time.
Give me patience to match yours.

Search for my soul, my heavenly being,
already full and glorious within me,
your silver coin beyond all value
gleaming with your image
even in my darkness.

Let your sight be my light.
Reveal my true self to me.
May your knowledge bring me to life,
your seeing re-create me.
Behold me into myself.

Search me, God,
and find me,
and bring me to you.



Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Still lost

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.
Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?

           — Luke 15.4

Well, none of us, actually. Who would leave 99, guaranteed, to find just one maybe? A lover of long odds, champion of the impossible.

That would be God, Seeker of the Hopeless, Companion of the Lost, Paramour of the Wretched. Oh, we think we're so realistic. We suppose such a God would have to be a ridiculous optimist. But God just knows more than we do. So off goes the shepherd, over our tiny horizon.

We are enamored of the “after” picture. We all want to be “after.” After you've done whatever we suppose makes God happy, you get to go to heaven. But have you noticed it's always the “before” picture that God heads for? God loves the rough cuts, the unfinished ones—you know, those pesky wretched sinners that we want so much not to be. The lost sheep. Loves 'em. Delights in them. Gladly leaves 99 righteous sheep (who are sure they are God's favorites) and heads off into the brambles for the one wayward fleabag. Which is a good thing, because we're not actually as found and finished as we think. If someone asks, ”Are you saved?” and you're afraid the answer is no, you're in luck. You're the type God really loves.

So maybe we can relax. Stop trying to be the “after” picture, the perfect sheep, and just trust that God really loves us as we are. Sure, we want to repent, grow, all that stuff. But repentance is mostly learning to trust that God loves us before we get there. And practicing that on everybody around us. Learning to love people while they're still lost—since that's pretty much the only way God has to love us.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Lost coin

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

What woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, "Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.” Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.

— Luke 15.8-10


Each moment of your life
is an instance of the Beloved calling,
seeking you, reaching,
This world is her lamp.
This moment is her house.
She wants you more than you think.
Lift up your head,
and let yourself be found.


You may think of yourself
as a pebble among billions on a beach.
But Love knows which one you are.
Exactly where you are.
The contours of your surface,
the feel and heft of your life,
the secrets of your inner silence.
Along this infinite seashore,
she can find you in the dark.


Don’t worry that you need something,
that you have to seek
something you lack. It is you yourself
who are the treasure.
It is God, not you, who is seeking.
No matter how far off you are
God will never leave you there.
God holds you with delight,
and will never throw you away. Ever.
You are the completion of her dowry,
the silver coin she strings around her neck.
You are her beloved.
Her joy in finding you
is as immense as the seashore.
She throws a party. All of Creation
is God’s celebration that she has you.
Everyone is invited—especially the lost,
the hopeless, the ones not worth looking for.
She spends everything for each one.


God is not oblivious.
You are not under
the cushions of her sofa.
You are in her hand.
Be at peace.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Monday, September 6, 2010

Lost sheep

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, "Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.” Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
— Luke 15.4-7


You are not bad, or even entirely at fault. You are just lost. There is nothing you can do. God is neither scolding nor demanding anything of you. Only coming toward you, seeking, finding, reaching, cradling.


Do you think you are hidden from the Loving One? That you blend into the drab, unsavory corners in this world so that God doesn't see? What do you do, not even meaning to, to wander away, to cover yourself with the camouflage of this world? What is it in your life that you think hides you from God? What if you came to see that all along, even in your fleeing, you were seeking?


Your shepherd knows where to look, and probes the distant places, the rough and desolate and hurtful places, the hidden canyons and unexplored wastelands, the thickest brambles and murkiest swamps. He will plunge through the darkness and come straight to you as if on a path. For this wilderness where he seeks you is not a foreign place, but your own heart. Stay still, and he will come.


Every word we speak is the bleat of a lamb in the wilderness.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Friday, September 3, 2010


Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Too much awe
       strips off our skin,
              too bright a glory terrifies.

Too deep a wonder churns our guts,
       like heights.
              The numinous disturbs.

The infinite unsettles things.
       The miraculous can only mean
              that we were wrong.

The tragedy of wasted love,
       a river's unrequited generosity,
              the vertigo of forgiveness,

the heartbreaking tale of a certain
       rise in the earth or a green branch,
              given without explanation,

the disorienting presence
       of the kid in a dirty t-shirt who could be
              trouble, could be the Messiah—

oh, so much that's out of our hands
       could overrun our hearts.
              It's all too much.

When once you rowed your little boat
       over the surface of the great silence
              and looked through the gathering depths...

—well, not again.
       Though the saints only appear to be
              in grave danger on their tightropes,

and they never fall—still,
       we avert out hearts. You could slip
              forever into the unfolding rose,

so we don't go near. You could be
       consumed by wonder, awestruck
              so hard you can't regain control.

Too much will hurt, we say, a surfeit
       of divine presence—lurking in the ordinary—
              burns. So we don't look at all.

It's ouranophobia, the fear
       of heaven. We avoid
              too much splendor, mystery

or love. We fight it without knowing.
       We flee the moment. We wish.
              We understand. We keep talking.

And God gently, grandly returns
       again and again, dawning irresistibly,
              drawing us toward the edge,

the sudden, helpless, glorious fall,
       gut-floating and irreversible,
              through those unyielding pearly gates.

No— before you even open your eyes,
       count the cost. Something close to worship
              will steal your mastery, your deserving,

your life. Love and wonder
       will devour you. You'll have nothing left
              but that.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Psalm 139


Holy One, you know me from inside me.
           You know me in my doing
           and in my pure Being.
                      My thoughts are transparent to you.

You are my travels and changes,
           and what in me simply is, unchanging.
                      You have shared every step, every breath.

Before my mouth forms a word,
           before my mind forms the thought,
                      you see it, you watch it, you know it.

You enclose me, my atmosphere, my body;
           you precede me, and I echo in you.
                      I live inside your embrace.

This is too wonderful for me to comprehend.
           There's no way I can take it all in.


Where can I go that is not You?
           Where are you not present?
In the place of wonder and glory, there you are.
           In the place of abandonment and despair,
                      there you are.
If I try to be free of you
           and flee far away from you,
even there you accompany me;
           you hold me in your arms.
If I hide inside myself,
           buried in depression, wholly lost,
you see right through, clear as day:
           in you everything is translucent.


My mother, my womb, my artist,
           you handcrafted my soul and my cells—
                      wonder! awe! gratitude!
Grandmother, you knitted me so thoughtfully,
           every stitch a prayer.
The way you made me, I am your praise,
           your masterpiece,
                      the work of your genius.
You intended me,
           you created my inner being,
                      intricately wove me in the depths of the earth.

I want to be continually mindful
           of your wonderfulness in all things.

You see clearly
           what is only yet becoming in me.
Your love already has a hold
           on all that will ever become of me
                      before it unfolds.

Your thoughts are beyond mine:
           rational thought can't behold you;
                      only wonder.
Beyond all thoughts and words
           you are simply present.


O Love, set me free from what is not love.
           May I love that which sets me free.

Free me from all bitterness,
           my desire to control,
                      my desire to get my own way.
Purify my love, O Love,
           and my courage to stay faithful
                      in the face of resistance.

Examine me, O Truth, and know me from inside.
           Expose my true thoughts.
Confront everything that strangles my love
           and set me free to live in the Way of Life.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

As you struggle

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.
You've got it backwards, my friend.
You imagine trudging up the holy mountain,
past the houses of the great saints.
In their windows you can see them
bent over their meditations,
sharing warm stew with lepers,
conversing with the Son of God,
softly hovering above their prayer cushions.
Angels swarm their porches to hear them pray.
They look out their doors in the grey evening
but they don't see you; they only see heaven
looming in front of their faces
while you stumble up the path.

No, dear, you have it backwards.
You are the one who sees little
as they struggle beside you up this slope
that they've walked a thousand times before
but have left their cottages and their ease
and have come back to do again this once,
winded and trembling, on ancient but hardy legs,
bearing more of your burden than you know,
and though you can't feel it,
holding— so lightly— your hand.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light