Welcome

Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Late night attempts to make a story, perhaps even THE story, our story

Advent and Christmastide
Are to me, amazing
It is not just the stories
It is not just the story

But it is how that story never fails to be true
How what we find in the story of
The waiting
The arriving
The presence

How it is a pattern for how the sacred works in our lives
Our world

We all know about the waiting
The great longing for peace and joy
Love and hope

We know how fear and greed twist us
And divide us not only from one another, but from ourselves

And as we wait, we always have the promise
The Sacred One saying…. The time will come
I will come. My presence will be real, things will change

But what is remarkable is how the sacred keeps adventing
Keeps coming and coming and coming
Keeps becoming birthed in the depths of our souls
All we have to do, is make the journey to the humble center
To that basic bare place, to that bare basic Sacred presence
where all we can do is bow down before something that
Is deeper and more powerful than what we can even imagine

But when we do bow down, when we lay that ego down,
Advent does happen
Because we are touched
Touched in ways unexplainable
Touched by love
And grace

And we become spirit carriers
Light carriers
The bearers of hope
We keep the kingdom coming
In ways small
In ways, at time, large
As we listen
And care
As we share
As we seek to understand
As we offer compassion instead of judgment

The sacred comes
And comes again
Leading us to life
But leading also to death
To the death of that which will always tear the world apart
Always tear our souls apart

Leading to the death of darkness
To the crucifixion not of love
But hate

And then
Then kingdom comes!

This is what happens when you move beyond the details of a story
To the deep reality of the story
Which goes on forever
Until that day
Until that day

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