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

Monday, September 30, 2013

Blurred around the edges

We are rare
Not perfect….  Mark Nepo


O Lord
what is in a word
I means really, a word is just a word,

I was thinking Lord
of the word flawed….

I hear it so much in the church
we are flawed
you are flawed

I don’t like that word Lord
for it implies you did a lousy job when you made us

as the cute little saying goes
you know, the one I really don’t like
you don’t “make no junk”

I think Lord I will use the word
or perhaps blurred instead

we are people make in your image
in whom your likeness
has been blurred
by wounds seen and unseen

Lord I believe
That your image is still there
In me
and in all those around me,
that it is still there

it is my job, O Lord
to invite my wounded child
back into the living room of my heart (thanks Thich Nhat Hanh)
where I can greet that child
and in the context of your love
accept, and heal that child

and it is my hope
that I can greet and accept
and yes, love
all the wounded children who cross my path
that I can soothe
not blame
hold their souls gently

and realize they are
a rare
not perfect
but rare and special
child of God

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