Who the Hell Am I?

(With thanks to Carl Jung)

A cork atop the ocean

 

sometimes that is what I know

about myself

about life

about God

I like to think I am a rational being

And that I have insight

(as if this conscious self

is who I am)

And yet

all I actually know about myself

may only be a cork atop the ocean

beneath my conscious point of view

so much more

depths unimaginable

made unseen

by my chaotic mind which stirs the depths

and by the very vastness of all that is

It is funny how things work

how we say and do things

with one intention

but which produce oddly different outcomes

than we intended

We like to think it is all about them...

but perhaps it is the ocean

those things that lurk in the unconscious

like strange creatures of the deep

 

that surface

like the Loch Ness monster

fleeting

half formed

that simply come to the surface and show themselves

telling us, and those we meet

that there is more going on

than even we know

what is in there

in those depths?

What would I learn if I could

only plumb those depths and understand

the deep currents that drive my life?

Perhaps it is time

perhaps it is always time

to dive deep

into the ocean

into that unknown

scary

but also creative source

that is me

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Ps 139:23-24:  Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. 

 

(Funny how much wisdom is in the Bible isn't it?)

Kiss me God!

Hey beloved [God], my soul is a raging volcano of love for you!

You’d better start kissing me, or else!

                                                Hafiz

God

You are so amazing

You love us with the love of a passionate love

And all you ask

Is that we love you back

Perhaps our problem is we don’t really know how to love

Not very well

We are seekers

graspers

takers

We demand and complain

And expect

And seldom

Listen

And respect

And give

and it gets worse God

because we don't even know how to 

let 

you 

love 

us

We seldom even ask for what we need

Instead we send indirect clues

And hopes

And then resent it when

We do not get what we think we want….

you offer us unconditional acceptance

and we

doubt

we continue to wallow in

self deprecation 

and doubt

 you won't to comfort and heal

and we persist

in misery 

and woundedness

We are not very good lovers Lord

Of you

Or of those whom you have placed in our lives

Or of those you have simply 

put in our paths

Lord, teach us to love!

the REAL Game of Thrones

I learned it as a child

That prayer so many pray

No, not “now I lay me down to sleep”

Although that too was daily staple

For my young spirit

Which delighted in things known

And familiar

“Thy Kingdom Come”

Really?

Is that what I meant to say?

I am not too sure Lord!

Your Kingdom is kind of scary

I mean with horsemen, and trumpets

And all that dark and violent

Kind of like Game of Thrones on steroids!

One thing I am sure of

If I have to earn my way into your kingdom

I am royally screwed

You love me,

And I love you God

And I know I have the responsibility to respond to your love

Love is a responsible thing

It means I do something

And I avoid others….

But Lord all too often I do the wrong things

And I don’t do the right things

Its almost like there are demons Lord

And they haunt me

They drive me

And so, mixed up, confused

And all too often in messes of my own making

I think of the Kingdom

And it seems

So far away

A place I will never find

A home I will never know

And yet, oh Lord

You are patient

You love me (and there is nothing I can do about that)

And you never give up on me

Never

And you use it all

My success, my strength

But also my failure and my hurt

My fear and my grief

To open my heart to you, and your power, and the Kingdom

Thank you
that It is in those moments when I feel I don't belong

and can't fit in

and are no longer worthy of being included

that the kingdom is near  (thanks to Thomas Moore)

Mother God

In their book "Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar...." Cathcart and Klein open up their chapter of the Philosophy of Religion with this brief statement.

"The God that philosophers of religion like to argue about isn't one that most of us would recognize.  He tends to be more on the abstract side, like "the Force" in Star Wars, and less like a parent who stays up at night worrying about you."

____________________________________________

Sometimes when I think about God

I can only think BIG

I mean really big

Like Master of the Universe big

God is up there

out there

a little bit vague

a lot scary

The mean old guy with a beard and thunder bolt

or worse

God is totally transcendent 

and frankly

not exactly very real

and helpful?

can a cosmic bowl of tapioca pudding 

(yes, that is my other image)

be helpful?

But sometimes I think of God as immanent

and intimate

I think of the Christ

The Word made flesh

God living among us

I think of God in the Exodus

Camping

Tenting

with the people of Israel

present and in their midst

And I think of how God comes now

in special people whom God places in my life

in sisters and daughters

dear friends

God is in the person who listens deeply

In the one who notices my pain

and shares my joy

God is in the smile and the hand shake

I get from the person at the Blue Banana (my favorite coffee spot)

and in the quick hug I get

when I walk through the door of my church.

God is in the little child who tugs at my pants leg

and smiles up at me

and in my granddaughter as she laughs

God is

Big

But God is also

Present

in all the little things

And yes, God looks down at me

and worries

as a mother worries

over a difficult child

and loves me

and comforts me

as a mother who loves that chld

no 

matter

what

The importance of being rooted in the sacred

The rains come and go

the sun

makes brief visits

a welcome guest amidst

the showers of June

 

my reluctant flowers

lazily decide to emerge from

their long sleep

and reach toward 

the gray skies

 

green

showing and the

like a miraculous gift

flowers 

bud and bloom

 

iris and lilacs

bottle flowers and daisies

monk's hoods and columbine

 

each take

their turn

delighting

 

some flourish

some weakly emerge

never to fully bloom

its all in the roots

and in the rain

they must be rooted

connected with the life giving soil

about to cling to and 

reach deeply into the source

of all

the sacred earth

and they must be watered

by the gift of heaven

to

flourish

so too

you

and

I

this day O Lord

may I sink deeply in the ground of my being

into the richness of Your sacred presence

and may I be nourished

by your

Spirit

which waters my soul

like a spring of living water

welling up

to 

eternity

this day O Lord

may be I be sufficed 

with the 

divine presence

Deeply, Madly Loved

Shane Claiborne talks about a talk he once had with an old hippie friend who, he says “loves Jesus and smokes a lot of weed”.  He and the friends often end up in friendly debates about faith and the Bible.  One day he said to Shane, “Jesus never talked to a prostitute”.  Shane immediately went on the offensive.  “Sure he did” and got ready to spar.  But then his friend looked him in the eye and said “Listen, Jesus never talked to a prostitute because he didn’t see a prostitute.  He just saw a child of God he was madly in love with.”

_____________________________________

Ah child of God

Battered and beaten

Ah child of God

Confused and lost

Ah child of God

Fear full and anxious

Ah child of God

one seen

by the eyes of love

the eyes of the sacred

the eyes of

God

seen as that beautiful

wrinkly wonderful

newborn

who

ah

has five toes

and five fingers

and yes, its father’s nose

and mother’s smile

that perfect child

of promise

of The Promise

who is

deeply

madly

loved

Sanctuary 2

Sanctuary

a place

a safe haven

a place to rest

sanctuary

a holy place

made holy by presence

and by love

so many need sanctuary

from the birds of the air

to the animals in danger

of extinction

from people beset by

human and conflict

and hate

to people beset merely

by their own personal demons

may the church O Lord

be a sanctuary

sacred

safe

a free and friendly space

where people can

come

and rest

and

heal

and be loved

may the church O Lord

be a sanctuary

Sacred Love

Late at night

In the clamoring silence

My unquiet mind searches

For the keystone

For that small piece of wisdom

that will help me understand

what cannot be understood

to search among the fallen ruins

of ideas and beliefs

the rubble of what I once thought

so clear

there are many things I do not understand

the sacred

dancing in my soul

giving me joy yet driving me into discontent

and endless search

thoughts

questions

feelings

pouncing

ripping at my certainty

making me more, and less

why is it that answers do not come?

Or come only to become, once again questions?

But there is this sacred love

which I cannot understand

but which always

always

is there

brilliant and alive

like a lonely flower

among the stones