Archive | April, 2018

Sacred Home

24 Apr

Home is a place of sacred rest
where love resides, not as a guest
but as the source of joy and peace,
an anchor set to hold steadfast
until the storms give way, at last,
and all the turmoils cease.

So may our home this day provide
a haven where true love abides,
a shelter from all pain and fear,
a strength against the darkest hour,
a certainty that God’s great power
will never disappear.

My Hope

19 Apr

I wake hopeful as this day begins,
but I am not the source of my hope.

My hope comes, as gift and loving act,
from the Mind and Heart that conceives
and constructs molecules and mountains,
mysteries and moments of deep knowing.

I will walk through this day alone yet accompanied.
My song will come from a depth I do not understand,
but I will sing, nonetheless, for the melody is
compelling, irresistibly welcome in earth pain
and human pleasure.

When the sun settles on the western mountains,
I will watch the soft rain feed the grassland and
I will ask of the day — did I live kindly with
those around me?  Did I accomplish something
today that counts for good?

And, having examined the experience of the day,
I will step momentarily into the gentle rain,
lift my hands and face to the sky and whisper
”thank you” to the Sacred Breath, my hope for
days to come.

I Do Declare

18 Apr

Light is slowly seeping through heavy
morning clouds…arriving,
on the way…and I
have nothing to do with it.

To live kindly, justly, mercifully
is to announce
the reality of God.

The coffee I drink as the morning
sun crowns the distant mountain
is from many hands
in many places.
I receive many things
from many people
everyday.

Honesty is not the best policy,
it is the only policy.

As the day unfolds, I will have
several opportunities to be
kind and do good.
I plan to watch
for them.

Gratitude is a way of life that
opens the door to
Sacred Mystery.
I will listen today
for the voice
that says:
”Come through.”

I do declare these things to be true.

Foolish Advice

17 Apr

Last week I asked my friend
to give me some advice
about a pretty serious problem
I’m facing.  He answered with
the following foolishness:

Be hopeful even when
circumstances seem impossible.

Draw a bottom line of principle
and don’t cross it.

Look first for the good in another
person instead of picking at her
faults.

Do good for the benefit of
someone else, not for your
own benefit.

Trust the persistent inner
voice of your intuition.

And then my friend said:

Don’t be afraid to love
even if you appear to lose.

If you ask me, all of that sounds
like he’s talking about religious
faith, don’t you think?  But we
all know that faith is utter
foolishness!

(Reflection on 1Corinthians 1:18)

Good Morning, God

14 Apr

 

Good morning, God.
I’m planning to get up in a few minutes
but before I do, I’d like to tell you
about some thoughts running around
in my head.

First, I’m smiling right now because I’m
awake in another day and as much as I
can, I’m going to make it a good day.  By
the way, I’m thinking that “good” means
productive, peaceful and helpful in some
way.       Second, I plan to watch for times
when I can be useful to someone else.
What I mean is, I intend to think about
someone else’s needs at least as much
as I think about my own.      Third, I plan
to watch for you during the day.  I’ll
say Hello.  Sorry I missed you yesterday.
It was a tough day and I had my head
down too much.

Well, I guess that’s it.  The house is dark
and my wife is still asleep, but I’ll go
make some coffee now.  Maybe I’ll
surprise her and fix her a little breakfast
in bed.  She deserves it.  What a great
woman!  Did I say Thank You for all
she means to me?   I meant to.

So, “feet on the floor and out the
door”…sorry, that’s a silly thing my
Mom used to say when I tried to
sleep late.  Well, that’s everything
on my mind right now.  Thanks for
listening.    Amen.

Oh, one more thing.  I’m counting
on you to help me do everything
today.  I don’t think I’m up to it
by myself.  Thanks.  Talk to you
tonight.     Amen again.

Wind Voice

13 Apr

Wind is the voice of distant places.
Its energy arises in the dark
corners of Cosmic emptiness,
passes through stars and
infinite galaxies, finally
arriving to dance with
the elegant pine trees
near the river.

In the joy of graceful movement,
Wind’s voice is released upon
the world, the soft whisper
of trembling needles, a
rushing roar like surf
rolling over a rocky
shoreline.

Finally, when the dance is done
and the Cosmic song has floated
off to other ears in other places,
Wind, spent from sheer delight,
returns once more to the
source of infinite Engagement,
the Mystery of Recreaton,
to sing again another
day.

 

 

Angels Moving

9 Apr

May I feel the movement of angels
around me this day.

Sometimes it seems that life is
coasting in neutral.  Seeing turns
to glazed stare.  Hearing shuts off
like having plugs in my ears.
Then,
without fanfare or flourish,
you appear in a translucent moment,
the almost of transparent clarity.
A beautiful moment.
You sing the song of a bird.
You paint the sky with sharply etched clouds.
You fall upon me like rain washing
and cleaning all it touches.
And in your appearing, you remind me
that I am alive,
that to be alive is to see creation
with your eyes and to pronounce
it holy and sacred.

For all who wait for you,
praying for awakening —
come and fill hearts with love.

Today I will feel the fluttering of angels
around me.
I know it.

 

 

Blossom Today

7 Apr

May the living earth blossom today as
A gift of gracious beauty,
A peaceful setting for surprising joy,
A reminder of courageous hope,
A moment of deep calm in a
jagged world.
May I have the stillness to see.

Resurrection: Mystery of Mysteries

3 Apr

 

My friend asked me this morning about a way to
illustrate the concept of  resurrection to young
children at our church.
So, we talked a while about new life, about
things that blossom from little seeds
planted in the dark earth, about the
realization of opportunities and new
possibilities.  All sorts of ideas come
to mind when we try to translate a religious
term…resurrection…into everyday language,
especially the picturesque language and
imagery of children.

So, within hours of that morning conversation, I went
home to work on a backyard project, and there
was New Life right before my eyes.
Squint a little and you can see them both
in the photograph.

Post-Easter, we begin to let the marvel of it all slip away.
For me, the central meaning of the Gospel is the
choice between the old and the new,
what was and what can be, a life
merely lived or a life that is
mostly miracle and mystery.

If they could speak our language, my little friends in
the garden would probably admit that everything
looks strange to their adolescent eyes, all
new, perhaps a bit scary at first.  Fundamental
change, resurrection, is like that.
“Behold, the old has passed away,
the new has come.”
In that in-between zone, when we dare to step
through the door, dare to throw the window open
to a fresh breeze, let hope and courage guide us
into a new light…in that often hesitant “yes”
to resurrection’s invitation, we find the
mystery of mysteries…there is
a Presence that really knows
all about resurrection,
One who waits to
help us unfold
this thing
called
New Life.

“Come,” we hear, “let me teach you to fly.”
That’s the way it’s supposed to be for my two
little garden friends.
That’s the way it’s supposed to be for me
and for you.

 

Easter Morning

1 Apr

The perfect Easter morning.  Gray, overcast skies.
No hint of glorious sun.  A fitting metaphor for
the world these days.  Rather grim.

And yet in church parking lots, on grassy hillsides,
in public parks people gather to sing about an
event they remember only in story.  An ancient
story that unfolded in a very different culture,
in a very different world.

But now, in spite of gray skies and the absence of
radiant sunbeams, they smile, greet each other
with more than a casual “Hello”.  They listen
again to the retelling of the ancient story as if
for the first time.

The last song sung, the final work spoken, they
pick up their lawn chairs and go home.  The sky
is still that lifeless, steel gray color, overcast and
unremarkable.  Not a single sunbeam is in sight
as the last car leaves the lot.  Only the birds are
left to sing.

Bystanders ask “why?”  The point in performing
this annual parking lot ritual?

It’s the story.  The story’s the thing.  If the gray,
overcast sky is a metaphor for the assault of
gloom in the world, this story is the chronicle
of new life, new vision.  It excites a feeling lost
in the overcast.  A love story with a bad ending
and a great hope.

And so they drove home from the parking lot
having remembered the story, shared it again,
and drawn from it a sense of hope about life…
even under gray, overcast skies.