Shining Spirit

I am happy to introduce you to “Singing To The Mountain”. It is a 60-page collection of recent poems put into book form. I’m really not advertising or marketing the book, but you have been kind enough to read Shining Spirit periodically, so I thought you might like to know it exists. This is book number seven, and I’m not sure how many words I have remaining. Maybe we never run out of words, just the wisdom to curtail them, to know when to stop. I don’t say “thank you” often enough for your interest in Shining Spirit, but please know that I truly appreciate your sharing and your comments. Here is the final poem in the little book. It is titled “Living Water.”

Living Water, fall upon all things that
crave refreshment, upon people
who walk dusty roads in
search of drink, into
rivers that struggle
to move though
arid lands.

Touch the flower that wilts
in the scorching sun,
animals that pant
for moisture.
The Earth
that allows us to live,
temporary residents,
in this paradise of
possibility.

May I regard the water that washes
my clothes as valuable as the wine
that fills the crystal chalice.
May I wear life as beautifully
as the rose wears her
jeweled necklace.

Thank you again for your friendship in this sacred journey of life.

Sacred Spirit, help me be a delegate of The Divine 
in this new week, living the Way of Jesus 
a little more than I did last week. 
 
I am made with the capacity to think,
may my thinking benefit all living things.

I am made with a heart that feels; 
may it feel the suffering of the world.

I am given companions for life's journey;
may I treat them with respect and dignity.

I am loved without limits;
so may my love be given without stipulations.

I am the eternal dream of God.
Lord, at the time of your desiring, bring me home.

Amen

With gratitude I come to this moment, acknowledging my trust and hope in the Way of Christ to give me life now and life forever, to sustain me in my need and to guide me into a closer, richer relationship with God. So, in that gratitude, I bow in prayer:

For the wrong I have done…in word or in deed…I ask forgiveness, Sacred Spirit. Free me from any guilt or shame and renew a right spirit within me. May it be so.

May I always be aware of goodness that surrounds, the original goodness that is inherent in creation, the good that surprises me in my daily relationships with friends and strangers. Help me, Lord, to focus more on the things that build up rather than on the words and actions that tear down and destroy. May it be so.

Help me, Christ, to release my grudges and resentments, and clothed in the garments of charity and mercy, to dare to live the way Jesus did, thinking of others before self and living daily in ways that bring people closer to God. May it be so.

In the quiet of this moment, in the stillness of my spirit, I bring these deeply personal thoughts and petitions before you…

And now to the Source of our being, to the Christ of God, and to the Spirit who walks the way with us, I lay these hopes and dreams and prayers into your hands, and I do this, confidently in the name of Jesus, companion in this journey, Truth of all time. Amen.

If it’s okay with you, I’m going to offer one more thought about the meaning of Matthew 4:19. Not okay? Sorry.

Not to take away from the absolute importance of “Come with me…” or “Follow me…” and the doorway to potential change in the world, I suggest that the meaning of the second part of the saying “….and I will make you fishers of men”…has nothing to do with enlisting or enrolling people in the Jesus movement . It is not about reaching people to save them; it is not a salvation teaching. That would be too narrow, too limiting.

Think about it. A good fisherman can catch a fish, but no one has ever “caught” a human being. The exaggeration is huge and would bring a smile to the faces of those fishermen who heard the words. Impossible. Can’t be done. And that’s the point! That’s the meaning of this colorful saying. “Come with me…” Jesus told the men; “follow me” and I will teach you how to do the impossible, illustrated by the absurdity of fishing for people. He even said once: you (disciples) will do the things I do and even more. Come follow me and I will show you how to do things that you never thought possible.

So many times I’ve heard preachers say that the meaning of this remarkable passage is about saving souls. Catch ’em for Christ! Broaden your thinking and see if this doesn’t make more sense: Come with me, friend, and I will teach you things you never imagined. I will show you how to do things that everyone thinks impossible, things like radical forgiveness, trusting love to be powerful, standing up to oppression. Nothing is impossible with God. Nothing is impossible to Christ. And nothing is impossible to the average human being who hears the invitation, “Come with me…” and accepts.

So here we are in a Bible Study Group and the focus text is Matthew 4:19. That’s the one about becoming “fishers of men”. I understand the importance of using language familiar to people, and that Jesus was addressing fishermen, and that there is value in using highly descriptive language because it tends to stick in people’s minds. Try to imagine the dumbfounded look on the fishermen’s faces when they thought of fishing for people. Now, in our study group, as soon as that verse is read, a hand shoots up and the inevitable question surfaces: “What does that mean? What does it mean to be “fishers of men?” And here we go: what does it mean? How do we do it? Should I use a big hook or a small hook? Am I deep sea fishing or casting from the shoreline…that will make a difference? Bait? Best time of day to catch someone for Christ? By the end of the study hour, we have exhausted all the theories and ideas and we are confident that we have learned an important lesson. Now that was a good Bible Study today!

But you know what…it was an exercise in how to have a good conversation. And that’s because the Bible students missed the most important part. They focused on the “fishing” and spent little or no time on the “following.” Doing the latter is impossible without doing the former. “Come with me…” “Follow me…” Then I will teach you how to change the world. Hold on a minute! Coming with you, Jesus…following you means sacrifice and possible suffering. I like the fishing part but I don’t have a great desire to sacrifice or suffer. I like my fishing gear to be neat and tidy and I prefer to cast the line from a quiet, peaceful river bank where the birds are singing and the breeze is cool and the smell of Spring is in the air.

Everything he asks us to do is possible only as the result of first deciding to follow. Come with me…that’s the rich topic of study and conversation. When I finally decide to be serious about the following, and accept the realities of following, then the door opens to change and transformation. Otherwise, I think I’ll just stick to bowling.

For some of us, it is music, different styles and kinds, to be sure, but music is the key. For others, it is deep prayer and meditation. Or, for those of us who are drawn to the deep places of the Spirit by visual experience, it is a walk through the grandeur of nature. Or, as I suggest here, the window through which we catch a glimpse of the Spirit is hanging on our walls or resting on our shelves. Works of art. Paintings, sculpture, photographs; they draw us to the Deep.

Windows

The move is done.
I am here.
My new home glistens with fresh
paint, fluffy carpets.
The boxes are gone.
Stress has subsided.
The smell of fresh coffee
is perfume as it weaves its way
from room to room.

Only one thing remains to be done.
I must have windows.
What is life in a windowless compartment?
And there in the corner they are stacked, my windows to the world,
portholes to exotic journeys,
simple snapshots made sacred by time.

With care and affection, I place each
one. Some alone. Some in clusters.
And when in place, light shines through them, each one.

See. The streets of Paris after a light rain. Or this one, ski slopes in Colorado.
Here is my family. Uncle George always “posed” for the camera.
The rivers. The mountains. The faces.
Windows into the world, my world.

The coffee tastes even better as I
pause before each window
and look into myself.

Windows, whatever they are for you, are portals to the Presence. Make time today to look through your windows. Press on to your encounter with The Spirit. Today is another chapter in your sacred journey.

Because I own a set of golf clubs,
does that make me a golfer?

Because my bookcase is filled with books,
does that make me a reader?

If I have a smartphone,
does that make me smart enough to use it?

I own hiking boots, hiking poles, and a backpack.
Am I a hiker?

I have a red-letter Bible on the night stand.
Does that mean I know what it says?

I attend church every Sunday.
does that make me religious?

I witness to the Way of Jesus,
does that mean I follow it?

All the things above depend upon
how I spend the currency of each day,
the reality of my LIVING.

“You will know them by their fruits…”
It’s in that book on the night stand.

My simple prayer for this day:
I am here
You are here
We are here
May the profound possibilities
inherent in those statements
grow in my mind and in my heart,
and as they grow, may they break
through all barriers, transforming
and renewing and healing.  Lord,
I am here
You are here
We are here
and that is enough to set this 
world on a course for peace 
and human kindness.  May it
be so.  Amen.

It’s a puzzle and an irony. The puzzle is the formation and development of human life submerged in water. Amniotic fluid is the nutrient home of all human life, the starting point. It is where we begin, a necessity until we move from amniotic to atmospheric. After a nine-month swim, we discover another ocean, the ocean of air. Wouldn’t you think that, given our watery start, each of us would love to splash around in swimming pools, do cannon-balls into familiar water? But such is not always the case. Thus, the irony. It is an irony that, once established in the ocean of air, in our post-birth years, some of us are not interested in water. You would think that I might want to jump into every swimming pool I pass. Memories of home! But we’ve all known people who are afraid, if not terrified, of being in or going under water. The point?

Living a spiritual life, a life of spiritual consciousness, is much like being in that water. My friend who is afraid of swimming, looks at the water as an enemy, something to overcome. She splashes and thrashes until she finally sinks. If she would only relax into the water, treat it as friend not foe, she would discover that the water is willing to hold her up, that she could float, relaxed and at ease, instead of floundering.

The fundamental invitation of the Christian faith, and perhaps of other major faith traditions, is to get into the water, allow it to be your friend, let the Spirit sustain you and buoy you in trust. More than one story has been told about swimmers who, having drifted out to sea, relaxed into the current and allowed it to carry them back to the shoreline.

There is much to be said for floating in the Spirit instead of struggling and contending for spiritual awareness. The Spirit waits with open arms for those who are willing to trust everything, even life, into a relationship with The One who formed us. Give up those spiritual water-wings. You really don’t need them. Press on…in trust.

“Yes, Rabbit, we’re home,” I said. “This is home?” he asked, with a rather puzzled look on his face. So began the conversation.

“Remember, Rabbit, you’ve lived in a cardboard box for three months.” “Oh,” he replied, “that’s right. I guess that’s why everything looks so different. It’s very bright here. Cardboard boxes don’t have windows, you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. So, Rabbit, tell me what you think. Isn’t this a nice place?” “Well, it’s very nice, but…” “But what?” Rabbit looked toward the bedroom window. “What’s that sound, that rumbling I hear. Don’t you hear it, too?” Rabbits have very sensitive ears. I moved closer to the window. “I think you’re talking about the sound of the train. I’ve heard it now for several days and it has become a background sound.” “A what?” Rabbit asked. “You know, like cars going down the street, the hum of tires on the road. “Oh,” Rabbit said. Remember, Rabbit has not had as much experience as I have in blocking out things I don’t want to see or hear. “Do you think, in time, that I won’t hear the train or the cars? They’ll be there, but I won’t hear them?” “That’s exactly what I mean,” I told him. “Give it a little time and you will be insensitive to the distractions.”

Rabbit looked puzzled. “That’s too bad,” he said. “Human beings seem pretty good at blocking things out, not hearing or seeing. For example, did you see Hummingbird outside about an hour ago? She flew all the way from where we used to live just to say ‘hello’ and you looked right past her.” I didn’t remember seeing a Hummingbird. “I guess you were so busy putting that bookcase together that you just didn’t see her, “Rabbitt added. “Is that what you mean about the sounds outside? Even though they are there, I won’t hear them?

I thought for a moment, and before I could reply, Rabbit concluded: “I don’t think I want to be ‘insensitive’, and have you seen my sunglasses? It’s very bright here in our new home. But, maybe I’ll just get used to it.”

Clever Rabbit.