Shining Spirit

Sometime today, and only God knows when, frustration and fear will tap you on the shoulder and you will hear the raspy voice of condemnation: “how bad you are!” or “you’ll never make it!” or even “you don’t deserve to be loved!”

Don’t believe it! It’s a lie!

Sometime today, maybe sooner than later, somebody will smile and say “you did a good job!” or “how nice you look today” or “you are a good person!”

Believe it! It’s the truth!

Sometime today, when you least expect it, the smile of your child or grandchild will come into your mind or a friend will give you a big hug or a song will trigger good memories or something will happen that will cause you to stop and feel the warmth of genuine gratitude.

Say “thank you! Be grateful.

Then tonight when you think about your day and all that happened in it, take the cruelty of thoughtlessness and all that came from the brokenness of the world and throw it away. Flush it! And then take all the moments when you felt loved, appreciated, valued, blessed and put them in your treasure box. Keep them as precious jewels. It won’t be long before you will need to buy a bigger box.

By the way, it’s true. You are special!

I stood in the rain today.
Hands upraised, face looking into
little droplets of life falling,
falling, striking my forehead,
sliding across the bridge of my nose,
bluish-silver collections of
holy molecules, each one
part of the next, all the same
but different.

I stood in the rain today,
mind open; spirit drinking the
sacred sky as it tumbled to the earth.
Metaphor?  No, gentle reality carried
on the breath of the early morning.
It didn't take long for the droplets
to dissolve the crust of protection
I wear, the porous armor that
satisfies my need to be
safe in the midst 
of serenity.

Have you ever looked up to see
love falling upon the earth?
Open your mouth, taste the
sweetness of grace.  Feel
the intoxication grow.
Allow yourself to be
swept away into
the endless
river.

The day begins.
Lord, if...
I don't think of you,
please remember me.

If I kneel in prayer
and my old knees won't work
in the getting up,
please help me.

If I hurt or offend anyone today,
give me the wisdom and the will
to apologize and to make things right.

If I can bless as I am blessed,
show my who and how.

If I start down the wrong path,
detour me into 
your design and desire.

If I get lost and afraid,
rescue me with your love and 
your mercy.

If I do anything good today,
anything kind or loving or
caring, let me give you
the credit, for
You are my strength and my hope.

Amen

Sometimes we are compelled to seek Grace or Mercy for different reasons. Sometimes we are driven by guilt or shame; sometimes we are drawn by gratitude or joy. Different routes – same destination.

At The Altar

Two people knelt at the altar today,
unknown companions, each seeking a way
to encounter life's Author, to know without doubt
the fullness of God, what life is about.
Shoulder to shoulder, on their knees in prayer,
sharing the feelings of delight and despair.

They came to this moment by such different ways,
compelled to hear the voice of God say:
You are loved, my child; you belong to me,
and in this moment you each shall be
held in mercy's affirming hand,
renewed in strength so that you may stand

unafraid, unashamed, two daughters of Light
awakened to see with spiritual sight
the Mystery that surrounds you day after day,
to know the joy of work and play
in the garden of Grace, your home in my heart,
the place where nothing can keep us apart.

Two women learned a lesson that day.
Some people are driven by guilt and shame,
some drawn by Love's undying flame
to find the Source of life's common claim.
Driven, drawn both compelled toward the Light
where they rise from the altar with sacred sight

to see themselves, newly blessed by Grace
seen in the light of each other's face.
Many roads compel, gratitude or shame,
but the reasons dissolve at the sound of his name.
In Him, through Him, with Him is found
our common quest, Love's sacred ground.

I have enough.
Maybe not as much as I want,
but enough.

Beneath the sorrow and the pain,
under betrayals and bad times,
there is a quiet pool of abundance
that is never diminished.
I have all I need, not only to survive,
but to live the life of a prince.
All I need to do is move through
the torment into the treasure,
step of the edge into the arms
of sufficiency.

I have enough.
Maybe not as much as I want,
but enough.

When your mind speaks, listen. Rational, logical thinking is very important. Make sure you understand before you act. Calculate, do not estimate.

When your heart speaks, take good notes. That bit of advice appears on the front of…guess what…a notebook. Good notes, because you’ll probably be going back to the heart wisdom when reason and logic come up short. My mind says: Do this because it is efficient, practical and productive. My heart tells me: Do this because it’s the right thing to do; or don’t because it’s wrong. Not mathematically wrong, but morally wrong or ethically wrong.

Listening to “heart-speak” means you might go against the tide of public opinion, might take a position on some important subject that carries the price tag of popularity or personal advancement. In some rare cases, might put you in personal jeopardy.

This kind of “heart-speak life” might remind you of someone long ago who dared to live by different criteria, and you know what happened to him. Death? No, I’m talking about an empty tomb. Just as we can’t hold back the dawn, so the ways of the heart are intuitively and instinctively right. So, when your heart speaks, take good notes. But remember that the value in living this “heart-speak” way is not how many notebooks you accumulate.

Do you ever get tired of pastors and priests reminding you, week after week, to lead with your heart because that’s the way Jesus did it? Me, too. So let’s just do it.

Easter brought a lot of surprises to a lot of people. For instance, the biblical Mary mistook the Risen Christ for the local gardener. Surprise! King Herod, the one who murdered Jesus, thought he had everything under control after he took Jesus off the cross and put his body in a tomb. Surprise! Two people walking to the village of Emmaus, talking about the sadness of the day: Jesus was dead. A stranger joins them on the road. Surprise!

To be honest with you, the traditional celebration of Easter is missing the element of Surprise! because we know the outcome. Church leaders try hard to foster a sense of Surprise! in congregants, and we engage in the ritual, but I know the end of the story. So, today is the Monday after Easter. I’ve put away the Easter decorations, my Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it, and I climb back on the treadmill of reality.
And, as part of my morning meditation, I read one of my favorite authors, Mark Nepo. Look at this!
“Life is surprising, thank God, and God, the chance to know Oneness, lives in surprise. For God is seldom in our plans, but always in the unexpected.” Do you see what that means? The reality of Easter is not necessarily in the ritual, but in the routine of my days. One mark of a follower of Jesus is the willingness to be surprised. I encourage you to live in a sense of Easter Expectancy. Because just when you think you have everything organized, labeled and filed…Surprise! Easter living begins today with the discovery, the encounter, the realization. Keep one eye open for the unexpected. And you’ll still be surprised.

Was that…..? No, probably not. Well, maybe. SURPRISE!

Lesson number 83. The same lesson every year. Identical! He Lives! No tomb of fear or pain or disappointment or grief or disaster or loss or doubt or anything else you can think of; nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus; our risen Lord! Not now, not forever.

HE LIVES!

Go! Tell it on the mountain. Then come down to the reality of suffering and pain. Tell it there, too.
Tell it with your word and your work. Let’s let our hands speak. Let’s offer the bread of life to the spiritually and physically starving. Let’s live so that people will know: He is not dead. He is risen. Let’s agree on one fundamental truth that can and will unite us: We serve a risen savior; he’s in the world today. Up from the grave he arose! He walks with me; he talks with me. O Lord, my God, how great thou art! This is my story; this is my song. Because he lives, I can face tomorrow. It is well with my soul. O yes, it is well with my soul.

May all be well with your soul, too, on this day of wonder.

“I don’t know what it is. It doesn’t make sense. It’s confusing. Give me clarity. Ambiguity is alarming. I’m afraid.” This is the way life looked for The Saturday People who felt helpless and hopeless as the tomb was sealed and their hopes buried with their friend and teacher. And their confusion was contagious as the news spread: Jesus is dead. The adventure is over. Now what?

Feelings of confusion and despair felt by those people long ago are of historical interest to those who have never had a stone roll over them as it sealed the tomb of their dreams. But it’s likely that you have had the experience, that you know what it feels like to grieve love’s death, to cry over a relationship ended, to feel the earth shake when certainty turns to doubt. Just as the image above offers no assurance or direction or meaning, so it was with The Saturday People. The joy of yesterday turned into the brutal reality of today.

But what they forgot about was the promise of tomorrow. A very wise person once said that sometimes the only way out of a bad situation is through it. Sometimes we just have to wait in the darkness before light comes. Out of the grief of loss, the despair of disappointment we become The Sunday People, not of our own doing, but because Light flooded the world when the stone rolled away. So, have courage in the waiting, hope in uncertainty, faith in moments of fear, for those inevitable times of deep disappointment are transforming us into Sunday People. There can be no resurrection unless there is crucifixion, no transformation unless we walk through the darkness into the light. Wait in faith and hope. Tomorrow comes and The Sunday People will sing — because he lives, I can face tomorrow.

Wait. Don’t be afraid. The Light will come.

Today and tonight, millions of Christian people around the world will participate in a sacred moment commemorating the last supper shared by Jesus and his followers. The scene is dark. The cross is not far away. The inevitable is about to become the reality. And in the course of the shared meal, Jesus gives new meaning to bread and wine as sacramental symbols of his life. He concludes his final comments to his friends with the words: Do this in remembrance of me. Eat and drink to remember.

I wonder if his followers remembered a conversation not long before this Last Supper moment? To his energetic, perhaps naive, disciples, Jesus asked the question: Are you able to drink the cup that I drink? That is, are you able to bear the suffering, the pain, the death that will signal freedom to the world? Sobering question. The cup from which people will drink today is both remembrance and risk. You can’t have one or the other; you have to taste both.

So, I am waiting in line to receive my Maundy Thursday meal of bread and wine and as I draw closer and closer to the sacred food, I hear a voice: Can you drink the cup that I drink? In order for the sweetness of remembrance to come through, you have to taste the bitterness of risk and sacrifice. Still want the cup? Bottoms up!