Shining Spirit

When the skies are dark and the storm approaches,
When the report is not good and pain awaits,
When joy is crushed under the weight of grief,
When life becomes the repetition of irrelevance,

May the touch of a friend, the song of a bird,
the beauty of a sunrise, the laughter of a child,
the silence of a wordless prayer
sustain me with hope.

In my joy and in my sorrow,
In all that succeeds and all that fails,
In moments of remembering and moments of regretting,
In the light of a glorious sunset that enflames the
world with breathtaking beauty,

May I remember that everything is temporary, all is sacred,
nothing can separate me from your love,
I am a unique gift to a good creation.
I matter. You matter. We are children of Light.

Amen

And they sang Hallelujahs for all to hear
as the darkness gathered ’round;
it was a sad and mournful praise,
a hollow, empty sound.

See that man on the side of the road?
His blood stains the cobblestones;
he cries for help to those who pass
but he is forever alone.

Hear that child who weeps in the night?
Listen with your heart instead.
He shakes as gunfire echoes loud
while he hides beneath his bed.

Over there, in the woods; those shadowy shapes;
the lion and the lamb lay down,
seeking shelter and respite from the band of men
who walk on blood-soaked ground.

If you refuse to care for them,
then you do not care for me.
If you cannot feel their pain and despair,
if your eyes refuse to see

then lift your hands and sing your song;
pretend that you know my name.
You will inherit your just reward,
the prize of unending shame.

So they walked away, unmoved by his words,
quite sure of their chosen way,
determined, by power and cruel might
to claim their glorious day.

The man by the road, the child in the night,
all creatures that try to survive;
these are the ones who will name our sin.
Hallelujahs won’t keep them alive.

Those empty words and hollow sounds,
but where the rugged cross?
That old, cracked bowl, the ragged towel?
Without them we are lost.

One Way will finally end this pain
of destruction, chaos and hate,
but we are the ones who must shoulder the cross.
It’s never, never too late.

O, lamb. How foolish you are.
Don’t wander, you were told.
Predators, you were warned.
Shepherds are too busy to look
for one lost lamb.
Profit margin, you know.
One gone? Forget it.
Move on to market.

Silly lamb. Trapped in the sheer ravine.
No way out. Howling in the distance?
Leave the flock. Wander away.
Expendable.
Food for the wolves.
You’ve chosen your fate.

Exhausted from the futile efforts to
climb the steep wall, lamb
falls lifeless to wait for
death’s cold breath.
Come quickly, merciful death.

It is not death who lifts one lost lamb.
Strong arms cradle.
No hungry snarl; a smile instead.
She knows the voice.
“Precious lamb.”

Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
God bless mommy and daddy, etc.
Amen.
(1781 The New England Primer)

Now I rise to meet the day;
Tell me, Lord, the words to say.
If she should turn and speak to me
what will I do; how will I be?
She’s really very cute.
Amen.
(1958 American Boy)

Now I rise; it’s four a.m.
Jog five miles; a one mile swim.
I hug my wife and pet the cat,
catch the bus; I forgot my hat!
This commute is getting old!
Amen.
(1975 Harried Husband)

Now I rise; my back is sore.
My left knee hurts; I won’t say more.
Lord, help me walk and not to fall.
I think I’m out of Tylenol.
Are these the Golden Years?
Amen.
(2005 Newly Retired)

Now I wake; I used to rise
but now I need another’s eyes
to read the fine print carefully,
the words are just a blur to me.
I thought trifocals would help.
Amen.
(2020 Senior Citizen)

Now the clock says 3 a.m.
What is that old, familiar hymn?
It rattles through my aging brain.
What’s left to do? What more to gain?
I heard the angels sing.
Amen.
(2025 Happy Acres, Room 226)

Now the hour has come at last.
I’ve lived it all, sometimes too fast.
But through it all, I’ve tried to be
a man in whom the world might see
your light and guiding hand.
Amen.
(2032 At The Funeral)

Now I lay me down to sleep.
I trust that God will surely keep
my soul and heart close to his own,
for I have lived in Him alone.
I see a light ahead.
Amen.
(2040 Approaching Home)

Rise, my child; you’ve earned your rest.
You’ve lived for me; you’ve done your best.
You fought the fight; you lived The Way.
This is your eternal day.
Beloved child…you’re home.
(Eternity)
Amen.

I invite you to read the following paragraph slowly, thoughtfully, pausing as the Spirit suggests, and then to hold it up against your means and methods of encountering God.

“Spiritual awareness (is) about being aware of God in the midst of the change and movement and flow of life, in the rising of the morning sun, in the work and relationships of daily life, in the great struggles of society and nation, in alertness to the interior life of the soul, in times of rest and sleep and even dreaming. God is at the heart of all life, in both the visible and invisible. We don’t have to try to reach God through acts of devotion, for God is closer to us than our very breath…this is not pantheism. It is rather to believe…that God is the Being on which all being rests, the Light within all light, the Life at the heart of all that has life.”
(Listening For The Heartbeat Of God, J. Philip Newell, p. 76)

Sit with these words today as if sitting with a friend. You are.

I am the child of an audacious God,
made known in a daring man,
and experienced in a
bold spirit.
I believe that all living things are connected
I am the verdant earth
I am the bird that sings
I am you as you are me.
I commit myself this day to the risks of
justice, mercy, and love.
I am forgiven and, therefore, I forgive
Today I will live "outloud"
Today I will not simply think of Jesus
I will be The Man.
And I will do these things because I
am the child of an audacious God!
Hallelujah!

Unseen. Unheard.
Through the cold black cosmic clutter,
a jagged rock near the size of a house
streaks among familiar stars,
between planets yet unrecorded
in earth journals.
The speed is astonishing,
the course straight,
the destination: the
end of infinity.

Until the meteor
passes into the blue
haze surrounding Planet
Earth, an atmosphere
that resists penetration and
probing, a blue curtain
protecting the green planet
from cold extinction.

There is no anonymity when racing
through the blue corridors of heaven.
Atmosphere resists the intrusion,
applies pressures against the
meteor’s bad manners.

Result: chips and flakes and
bits and pieces fall away,
ripped from the diminishing
stone by furious friction. As
meteor’s size shrinks, the
heated stone begins to glow.
Light increases!

Brighter and brighter until the
pilgrim stone bursts into earth’s
awareness as pure light. “Look!”
he said, standing on the corner
of 5th and Main. “Is it the end
of time?” “No,” his friend replied,
“the end is always the beginning.”

Dense darkness.
Faint glow.
Pure brilliance!

If it were not for the friction,
would we ever know light?

I’ve never found any historical evidence for this, but it could have happened. I’m still searching.

One day, early in the time Jesus was getting started in public ministry, the Master realized that his mission was so big that it would be necessary to enlist helpers. Disciples. He knew many young men and women in his community, so he thought and prayed and thought some more, then approached a selected few to join him in the work. He decided that since his mission was unique and would appeal to all people, it was necessary to get a good representation of the community; credentials were not important, just courage and commitment.

After inviting quite a few people, he held a meeting at which he explained his calling, the work to be done, risks and rewards, and everyone listened intently. He went through the organizational structure, the amount of time asked, positions of leadership that would have to be filled. Someone in the back of the group asked: Do we have Bylaws? Jesus smiled and replied: Well, in a sense. We certainly have guiding principles, like: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and Love your neighbor as yourself, and Let your light shine in order to honor God, and Do not judge others, and Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink….things like that. Another hand went up: Do we have a name? What do we call ourselves? Came the reply: Well, how about People of The Way or just Disciples. Disciples of Jesus, how’s that? Some people got up and drifted away; not their kind of organization. Others sat focusing intently on this dynamic, genuine young man who added one or two more principles: Speak truth; insist on justice for everyone; be willing to stand up with the helpless; teach mercy and forgiveness. But most of all: Love God with every fiber of your being.

Another hand shot up in the back: “Do we get name tags?” Of a sort, Jesus answered: Here take these things, and he handed the man a bowl and a towel. The questioner looked at both, laid them down and walked away. Most of those who stayed became Bowl-and-Towel carrying Disciples of Jesus and history tells us they changed their world.

Finally, I’m glad to report this reality which I believe to be completely true: Name tags are issued when you walk through one door of the church, bowls and towels when you walk out the other door, out into ministry. What happens in between is called Disciple-Making. A church doesn’t shield us from the ugliness of the world; it puts us right in the middle of it. And when asked for our credentials, we hold up the bowl and the towel and announce “I am here in the name of Jesus.”

The rest is entirely up to God. Every age, even this one, needs people who identify themselves as Disciples of Jesus, bearers of beatitudes into a broken world. If you’ve never had a bowl and towel, get them. If you do, use them. It is always time to make a difference.

Every Thursday morning I spend a few hours with 25 Kindergarten students who are excited to be learners. I see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. Mixed in with all that energy there is a joy in discovering. When the light comes on in young minds, in those first moments of understanding, they laugh and clap in astonishment. They have discovered something that has always been present to those who seek it: the reality that C-A-T spells Cat.

For fifty-five years as a Pastor/Minister/Chaplain I have sat with adults who seek deeper relationships with and understandings of God. They want to discover, and when they do, when the light comes on in the heart, there is a depth of joy that is unexplainable. Alphabet letters and a numbering system have been around a long time. Each one of us tapped into them with the help of a teacher or friend. Likewise, the inviting presence of God has moved through life since time began; available, present, inviting, discoverable. No one can take it all in with one “Ah, ha!” whether it’s 2+2=4 or a flood of sacred light. We learn God. In a relationship, in a moment of study or worship, driving along the freeway, listening to music, playing with your grandchildren, holding the hand of a sick friend, singing in the shower, smiling, forgiving. God is like a constant stream, like a river into which one can step. God is a constant presence that invites inquiry, discovery, and relationship. And, to me, that means life is a question looking for an answer. Those Kindergarteners take in as much as they can, but certainly not the entirety of intellectual understanding. In the same way, you and I learn our way into God, the eternal and constant presence, in all those experiences and encounters that we call daily living.

The very good news is that the nature, purpose, and character of God have been revealed in the historical person of Jesus. In a sense, he is the one sitting at the table holding up flash cards, not the ones that say C-A-T means Cat but the ones that announce: Do unto others…love your neighbor…give to receive…forgive as you are forgiven…follow me into more and more discovery. Each one of us is learning God and we are at different places in that discovery process, we approach the learning through different methods and experiences, and we move at different paces or speeds. However you choose to do it, discover with honesty, humility and genuine gratitude. Is there a final goal, a diploma to be obtained at the end of the learning process? Yes. More discovery, further revealing. Forever.

Think about this today. Be a learner through today’s encounters. And when you experience the moment of insight or revealing, clap your hands and be grateful.

Class dismissed.

You’re looking at a wooden, backyard deck that is covered in ice. No, it’s not in Tucson, Arizona. And, no, the photo wasn’t taken in September. And, yes, I’m very tired of 100+ degree days. Will this heat ever end? So, by posting this picture I am acknowledging that the daily temperature is beginning to warp my view of reality, and, that there is a life lesson for each of us in the icy setting. It is this: it is a wise person who walks carefully through life because everything is not as it seems at first glance. That’s not a fresh coat of varnish on the wooden surface; that is slippery, “watch your step” ice and it is both beautiful and treacherous.

Be observant today. Watch where you step. Be alert to possibilities for good and to warning signs for danger. Don’t rush headlong into a tumble. Take your time, reflect, discern, and most of all, follow the footprints of the One who has walked the way before you. And, if today gets really slippery, take his hand and walk by his side.

You are safe with, beside, in and through Christ who loves you. Don’t be afraid. Even if you fall down, He will pick you up. Press on.