Shining Spirit

Do you think there is anything beautiful about a pile of rocks? Maybe not at first glance, but spend some time with it, meditative time, and see if reaches out to your imagination, to your Spirit, to your memory. There’s a story somewhere within these rocks. Take your time.

Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your Heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you of more value than they?

That’s an eternal question, isn’t it? I don’t usually give that question much thought because I’m too busy trying to make myself valuable. I work hard, obey traffic signs, say my prayers most of the time, and pick up after Fido when I take him for a walk. I was told as a child that the more I do, correctly, of course, the more my worth and value as a person grows. But then I see this bird and I read Matthew 6 and I think to myself: “Now, wait a minute. This bird is valued by God just because he is a bird. His very existence is his value.” And here I am trying to earn God’s favor, trying to become a good person by working hard at it, trying to shape myself and my value by being a good boy. But my value, my worth, is already established. Move over, bird.

I have nothing to prove; the verdict’s in. You and I are of inestimable value in creation. The real issue is not “am I of value to life?” but “what do I do with the value inherent in my being?” Answer: I give it away. The way I live my life is not about me and my value; it’s about God and God’s grace. Bottom line: the reason I live is not to hit a mark on the value scale. My existence is my value and that value is enhanced by giving myself away. Here’s the beautiful irony: “He (Christ) must increase, but I must decrease.” The Gospel writer is on target. When Christ increases because I give myself away as His disciple, on his behalf, then I am living out of the great value I already possess.

Excuse me, bird. Do you understand any of this? Bird says: Don’t worry about it. Just do it. Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God. Bird says: flap your arms, human. You can fly! Smart bird.

The more calm and serene the water, the more beautiful the reflection.

Agitated water produces waves and 
ripples, which then display a
distorted image of the
original, the perfect.

"Be still and know that I am God" 
says Holy Wisdom.  Be at 
peace.  Hush.  Allow
calm to control.

Offer quiet a place in your life.
Make space for stillness.
Reflection requires
relinquishing.

The more calm and serene the water, 
the more beautiful the reflection.

What a stunning reflection you can be!
The Reflection awaits the calm.

This evening, after this busy day, before you go to sleep, come sit on this bench with me. For just a little while, as the day surrenders to dusk. First, we listen to the special sounds of nature all around us. The silence is the loudest, isn’t it. Silence briefly interrupted by ducks in the distance calling out to each other. And the bull frogs adding bass to the symphony. We listen to the language of soul.

And we see, just before us, the marsh of reeds and still water, and then the glassy smooth surface where the ducks swim, and in the distance the water rippling from the wind’s insistence. And we can’t leave out the slightly rosy sky. That’s the sun’s last “good night.” What sights that become one, unified moment, and that’s because seeing with the soul looks for harmony rather than discord. Eyes of the heart, someone said. I wish we could frame it. Maybe not, because then it might become a dusty frame, forgotten on a rarely seen wall. Better to smell the earth and the water, learn the language of natural wonder, and see from your soul. Better.

Nice bench, isn’t it.

I put my granddaughter on a plane the other day in Tucson for her trip home to Oregon, and as we walked through the terminal toward the gate, we passed this display. We both hoped that these folks would be on a different flight. Although, you never know. They may be the nicest Javalina, Jackrabbit and Rat around. We made an assumption and we all know that quick assumptions can be very wrong.

My guess is that sometime today you and I are going to make decisions based on facts or on feelings or on ill-founded assumptions. There’s enough bad information floating through the air these days…political season, you know…so let’s don’t add to it. As the Book says: let your yes be yes and your no be no. Speak truth. Avoid assumptions. And everything you do, do it in love for the benefit of the other person (or Jackrabbit) and to honor Christ. Press on.

A universal prayer for this unique day
     
     Hear me!
     Help me
     Heal me
     Hold me
     
      Amen

Most of us will pray this sometime today.

I invite you to spend some time with these words. I don’t mean read them and move on, but pick 30 minutes, be still and silent, and listen to the words.

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

There is a time to speak and a time to be silent, according to ancient Hebrew scripture. What do you think? What time is it?

May the Creator of Silence meet you there, and in that silence, may you be filled with all your heart can hold.

What a wonderful gift we’ve been given! Inquisitive minds. Brains with the capacity to wonder. Where would we be without asking “why”?

I wonder why the gentle dawn
returns to signal a new day’s birth?
I wonder why stars illumine the night,
casting soft light on the sleeping earth?
Do you ever wonder about simple things?
Why a grackle even tries to sing?
The way life would be if I were King?
Why the opposite of pong is, surprisingly, ping?
I wonder.

Can you imagine no wondering minds?
Will we someday assume we know it all?
The ebb and the flow of wisdom and truth?
Why up is up and the stock market falls?
I’m sure I will never “know it all.”
My brain is too short, knowledge too tall.
Who’s the mysterious man who lives down the hall?
I wonder.

My mind, it seems, was made for the search.
To ask. To quest. To wonder “why”?
I can’t imagine the moon and the stars,
seeing the heavens, yet not willing to try
to fathom the reasons why we exist.
I don’t mean to offend, but I insist
that wondering is inherent and we must not resist
the urge to know, the need to persist.
I wonder.

Do you wonder, sometimes, about simple things?
About how many feet in that ball of string?
Or, why deep-throated bullfrogs decide to sing
just when I get to that part of my dream
where I rescue the damsel in great distress
and she pins a medal on my manly chest?
Why do those bullfrogs always ruin the best
part of my nap, my afternoon rest?
Do you ever wonder? Ever question “why”?

Me, too.

There is a place in Canada called The Butchart Gardens. Maybe you’ve been there. It is one bloom, one pruning snip away from perfection!

The 55-acre garden, founded more than 100 years ago by the Butchart family, is an explosion of color, shapes, and forms tended by 500 full-time gardeners. To say that it is neat or pristine is high on the understatement list. It is magnificent.

But the garden does serve as a reminder to those of us who like gardening perfection, or any other perfection necessity, for that matter. And the same reminder to someone who finds perfection boring, too neat, too manicured, rather artificial. Flowers, whether in Butchart Gardens or thriving in the meadow near my nephew’s farm, are beautiful and a pleasure to see. Flowers like to be flowers wherever they are. But sometimes the context determines their value, worth, or loveliness. I like the flowers in Butchart Gardens very much, but the perfect setting gets a bit tedious after awhile. I love the wild flowers in the field, even though they insist on being disorganized and random. And then I realize I’m responding more to the environment than the flowery display. If everything has to strive for perfection, then I think randomness is a blight on the earth. If everything must be absolutely free to “do its own thing” then perfection is an impossible curse.

The point (Yea!): Creation is highly varied for a reason. It was made that way so that all things could express their beauty and could contribute to the whole. We are not defined by our context: rich, poor; educated, not educated; politically this or politically that. We are fundamentally the same; flowers growing in lots of places and in lots of ways. We are all flowers.

Butchart boosters and rural wanderers are looking at the same expressions of values and worth. Let’s stop living in the land of contextual truth. Too many other things grow in that land, things like hate, prejudice and self-inflicted pain. Life’s too short. The flowers are too beautiful to be trampled under angry boots on the feet of people who can’t see beyond themselves.

At age 25, writing about death was academic and impersonal. I had met death but rarely and at some distance. One week from now I will hear the 83rd version of Happy Birthday and blow out the cumulative total of 3,486 candles. Figuratively. I can’t certify that there was a cake with one candle on it long ago, and I certainly hope I don’t see a cake with 83 candles on it next week. The fire alarm system in our apartment couldn’t handle it.

“and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.” So writes St. Francis. Several things give me hope flowing from those words. Francis was a holy man who knew God intimately. I trust his certainty. Also, I believe that the opposite of death is not life, but birth. Death and birth are two moments of time set in the context of life. Life that was, life that is, life that will be. And I think that’s what Francis is affirming. I have met death many times over the years, face to face, up close and personal. Fifty-six years of pastoral ministry guarantees the acquaintance. Slowly and naturally, we have become friends. A third thing I believe: when dying happens, so does birth. “to eternal life” Francis writes as he concludes this amazing prayer. To speculate, for me, about the where and the when and the how and the why is a waste of my spiritual energy. That wresting match took place long ago when I wrote academic papers for my seminary professor to satisfy requirements for graduation.

I believe Francis because we share the same source of information. To paraphrase: if you live for me you will never die. You will be “born” to eternal life. I stake my life and my death own those words.

I was. I am. I will be. That’s enough.

May the eternal Francis hear our voices of gratitude for the gift of this beautiful prayer. May the eternal Christ hear our heart songs of joy for making it all a reality. Amen.