This King is Weird

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Lord, we come to worship the savior you sent us...

And we marvel at the manner of the sending.

In the midst of political upheaval, we hoped for a king.

In the midst of wars and rumors of wars, we hoped for a general.

In the midst of religious tumult and controversy, we hoped for a high priest.

But you send us a baby.

[pause for bewildered reflection]

Interesting choice, God.

-Lawrence Lee

 

O King of our desire whom we despise,

King of the nations never on the throne,

Unfound foundation, cast-off cornerstone,

Rejected joiner, making many one,

You have no form or beauty for our eyes,

A King who comes to give away his crown,

A King within our rags of flesh and bone.

We pierce the flesh that pierces our disguise,

For we ourselves are found in you alone.

Come to us now and find in us your throne,

O King within the child within the clay,

O hidden King who shapes us in the play

Of all creation. Shape us for the day

Your coming Kingdom comes into its own.

          Malcolm Guite

________________________________________________

 

It echoes from pulpits

Praise bands sing it out, loud

 

Across the world in churches large and small

People raise their hands and voices and proclaim

The King is Born

The King has come

The King rules

 

Unto you this day is born

 

Let’s hear it for the King!

 

But Christendom

We have a problem

 

The King so many expect

The King so many want

The King so many have created, and now present to the world

Is not the King who came

 

Jesus came to be a ruler.  Of that there is no doubt

This is why, in Matthew, after the child is born

King Herod is no longer king

He is only Herod

 

But how Jesus rules is a mystery

 

May we all find ourselves in the mystery

May we all lose ourselves in the mystery

 

May we understand that Christ the King

Will not be found by those seeking to dominate

To win

To control

To subdue and punish

 

This King will not be found hanging out in the White House

In the halls of congress

At the Supreme Court

 

This King will not rule through military might

Or a “well regulated militia” with guns

Or through coercive and controlling laws that benefit some and harm others

Through legislation that seek to control and sometimes eradicate

 

This King does not oppress, minimize, or marginalize

 

This King is weird

 

We should have picked that up at his birth

A baby, lying in straw, the child of common parents

Born on the bottom floor of a common home

Surrounded by common people

In a small rural town

 

We should have gotten the clue from the way he lived

From that life of compassion, welcome, and kindness

From the fact that he invited people to follow, but never demanded

From the sketchy crew who followed him

And from the type of people, the rich and the powerful, who rejected him

 

We should have understood from his refusal, from the very beginning

to the very end, to be a king like other kings

 

“Jesus laying down his life out of love rather than using all cosmic and political power to force the world to obey him is the eternal critique of any kind of Christianity that seeks to secure power in order to force others to conform to its will.” (Ben Cremer)

 

This King can only be found

in the one sleeping in a doorway on the street

in the hungry child

in the addict who has no hope

in the immigrant, denied entrance

in the person demonized because of where they are on the gender spectrum

in the older person, wondering how long they can stay in their home

how long their money will last

 

This king can only be found in the rubble of Gaza

In a bombed-out refugee center

Scaling the wall on America’s southern border

In homeless shelters

and in the poorest of neighborhoods

where empty store fronts echo with the sound of violence

 

This king is weird

 

But this King, if we let him touch our hearts with love

and fill our souls with love

can change our lives

can bend the world toward justice and equity

through us

Christmas

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Christmas is not a reminder that the world is really quite a nice old place. It reminds us that the world is a shockingly bad old place, where wickedness flourishes unchecked, where children are murdered, where civilized countries make a lot of money by selling weapons to uncivilized ones so they can blow each other apart. Christmas is God lighting a candle, and you don't light a candle in a room that's already full of sunlight. You light a candle in a room that's so murky that the candle, when lit, reveals just how bad things really are. The light shines in the darkness, says St. John, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

                                                              N.T. Wright, For All God's Worth

________________________________________

 

What happened to those shepherds

who heard the angels sing?

Who saw the darkness dispelled by light and heard good news for all

 

What happened to those foolish ones who haphazardly left their flocks

And stumbled through the darkness

To where the baby lay?

 

Did they dream wild new dreams?

Were their lives transformed?

 

Or did they merely wander back into the hills

Pick up their staffs, and sit once again in the cold stillness

The ardor of the moment cooling

The light fading?

And watch sheep?

 

What happened to those odd assorted souls who happened

by the scene

and awkwardly watched the sight of a motley crew

of socially sketchy folk

gathered around a mother and child?

 

Were they too touched by angel fire?

Did they too wander aimlessly, pondering these things that had come to pass?

The good news of great joy?

Or did they shrug and scurry on unchanged.

 

What happened to the cousins and aunts,

the family gathered upstairs in that warmer cleaner space?

Were they oblivious to the wonder underneath their feet?

Or did grace rise and touch the room in which they ate

And argued as families do?

 

What happened to merchants and kings

And magi from afar

As they heard the experts opine about that star

“Out of you Bethlehem… out of you shall come a ruler.”

 

What happened?

Did that star, those prophetic words mean something?

Or nothing

 

Did the signs and wonders invoke hope, or fear?

Did they stay trapped in their old beliefs and systems?

Did their stomachs clinch and the bile rise?

Or did they catch a glimmer of something new?

 

Surely the only stories are not those

Of mad kings plotting infant deaths

Of magi fleeing in the dark, another way

 

Surely stories of refugee flights in the darkness

and violent oppression are not all we have

 

Surely someone became kinder

Someone loved

Someone forgave

Someone felt moved to generosity

 

Surely someone felt hope

And someone gazed into the now silent skies,

And remembered the angels singing

 

For all that happened

And all that did not happen

The world slouches on its way

 

Still Christmas comes and goes, and comes and goes again

Still the air is filled with the sound of singing

And lights twinkle as the stars

 

Still people gather

And make much of a baby’s birth

And celebrate

 

And still when all is said and done

The world returns to its ways

Still the powerful plot and the poor suffer

Still fear and hate lead to violence

 

Is this all that we have?

An empty celebration that when all is said and done

Leaves the world the same dark place

 

No!  it isn’t

Yes, the world is indeed “a shockingly bad old place,

where wickedness flourishes unchecked,

And yet at Christmas the light came into the world

 

A light in the darkness

A light to show us the way

A light that at times may seem fragile and weak,

flickering

But never goes out

 

The light of hope, and peace, and joy

The light of love

 

which is kindled and flames in our hearts

so that sometimes we are kinder

and sometimes we love

and forgive

and give

 

And sometimes

Even as the light shines in a world murky with darkness

We gaze into the now silent skies,

And remember

And hope

And love

Now you

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“Into this world, this demented inn

in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,

Christ comes uninvited.”

                               Thomas Merton

_________________________________

 

There is so little room

For Jesus in this world

So little room for Love

 

It is so crowded with noise

Coming from everywhere

Confusing

Contradictory

False

Scary

 

It is so twisted and tortured

By hate and fear

 

We can be a demented race, we humans

So unable to grab hold of our divine image

so challenged by the very idea

of love

so afraid of vulnerability, compassion, and generosity

stuck in fight, flight or freeze

 

yet into this place

into the ooze and slime and old decay (CS Lewis)

Christ advents

 

Insistent

Demanding

intrusve

 

Bringing only himself

Which is enough

 

Bringing only himself

Unconditional love

 

Revealing his way to a recalcitrant world

Coming in love

Living love

Dying love

Rising love

 

And saying gently

Now

You

One question only

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The CEOs sit in their offices high

Peering out over a world they own and manipulate

 

The politicians sit in their offices

The judges in their chambers

The preachers in their studies too

Pondering power

 

Plotting and planning

About how to make and remake the world

 

Their speculations are based on statistics and polls

And success is measured in dollars

Or perhaps

Influence

 

Power and wealth

Those are the standards by which they measure everything

 

This is not new

From Adam and Eve and the desire to “be like God”

To Cain and Able

And those who would build a tower reaching as far as heaven

 

Control

Profit

Empire

 

It was into this world

The world of Rome

That Jesus came

 

Coming with a power that did not look like power

Coming with a wealth that did not look like wealth

 

Coming as a poor child

The progeny of common people

Oppressed people

 

Coming to do one thing

Illustrate the Love of God

And what that looks like when one is filled with that love

 

Jesus tested his behavior against one standard

The love of God

That was the beginning and the end

The Alpha and the Omega

 

Love

A love that did not expect value in people

But created it

A love that looked like

Compassion, welcome, acceptance

Service, generosity

And

Sacrifice

 

A giving of self to and for others

Not a using of others for self

 

God’s love

Agape

 

That is everything

That is the answer

Love coming down

Love dwelling in us

Love oozing from us

 

There will be this day a thousand chances to choose

To do the next right thing

And there is one question we must ask

One question only

 

What reflects God’s love?

Always new

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“The world for which you have been so carefully prepared is being taken away from you,' he said, 'by the grace of God.' (Walter Brueggemann)”

― Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith

_________________________________________________

 

I tried so hard

to plan my life

 

my days and weeks

and years

unfolded according to plans

 

thought out

documented

codified on calendars

carved into my brain

and into my heart

 

and then

it all unraveled

 

life is full of surprises

life changes

shit happens

 

by the grace of God

 

not that God orchestrates what happens – oh no

God does not need my help in that regard!

 

it is all too often my own foolishness

or the foolishness of others

that creates the chaos

 

but the Sacred Presence I carry within

Spirit (with capital S)

It is that which creates

(as it always has)

new worlds out of my worlds

 

that is how this story goes

 

the advent of Jesus was a point of change

a glimmer of hope in the darkness

and Christ advents again and again

each day

in each heart

 

ready or not

open or not

where there is room or not

 

new beginnings

galore

 

by the grace of God

 

__________________________________

 

Some historical notes:

I was a “hot shot” Presbyterian Pastor

big church and everything

successful outside I was a mess inside, and

I screwed up

 

God created a new direction with Northwest Medical Teams

one of the richest experiences of my life

helping the poorest of the poor

people hammered by disaster

 

I left NWMTI to go to a program that was a disaster (and will remain unnamed)

only to land, because of contacts made there

with Oregon Health Science University

and the amazing Department of Family Medicine

another Godwink

 

then

surprise, a decision

made while on a trip to Baku, Azerbaijan

(OHSU gave me such great opportunities)

 

to head to Wallowa County

where I got a job in a field I knew little about

another degree, and 13 years of developing a great progressive program

 

Then my side gig became my main gig

Temporary supply pastor (I have now been there 16 years)

Then Stated Clerk, and the Executive Presbyter of a Presbytery

 

What’s next?  Who knows (even at 72)

 

Blessings my friends

Never give up

Never quit

There is a new world coming

In a time like this

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Into the Darkest Hour

by Madeleine L’Engle

 

It was a time like this,

War & tumult of war,

a horror in the air.

Hungry yawned the abyss —

and yet there came the star

and the child most wonderfully there.

 

It was time like this

of fear & lust for power,

license & greed and blight —

and yet the Prince of bliss

came into the darkest hour

in quiet & silent light.

 

And in a time like this

how celebrate his birth

when all things fall apart?

Ah! Wonderful it is

with no room on the earth

the stable is our heart.

___________________________________________________

 

In a time like this

Our hearts hurt

Our stomachs roil

And our legs tremble

 

I times like we one peers through the gathering gloom

Desperately looking for a way forward

Through the debris of war, the detritus of lies

 

The smog of hate and fear lingers

Fouling the air

And leaving us short of breath

 

We look for glimmers

For small moments that spark joy or peace

We gasp for breath and seek to rest

But then the light is overwhelmed again

And it seems darker than before

 

Sometimes it seems worse

This darkness

After flickers of light

When hope grows, and is almost grasped

And then slips away

Like a jewel dropped into rancid waters

 

This is the season of waiting

Of longing

When love merely flickers and tantalizes

And leaves us wanting

 

And yet

“Into this world, this demented inn

in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,

Christ comes uninvited.”

 

Love comes

Out of place, insistent

Looking for a place to be born

 

Banished from the halls of power

From the pulpits

Rejected as weak and inconvenient

 

Love searches

Amongst those who do not belong

Who are not valued

 

“those who are discredited,

who are denied status of persons,

who are tortured, bombed and exterminated” 1

 

And there love is born

And stays

For it is in the desperate hearts

The excluded hearts

The broken hearts

That there is room when there is no room

 

There love is born and grows

Light in the darkness

A glimmer

Of hope

_______________________________

 

1.     Thomas Merton  “No Room at the Inn”

Advent Prayer

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Advent Prayer

In our secret yearnings

we wait for your coming,

and in our grinding despair

we doubt that you will.

And in this privileged place

we are surrounded by witnesses who yearn more than do we

and by those who despair more deeply than do we.

Look upon your church and its pastors

in this season of hope

which runs so quickly to fatigue

and in this season of yearning

which becomes so easily quarrelsome.

Give us the grace and the impatience

to wait for your coming to the bottom of our toes,

to the edges of our fingertips.

We do not want our several worlds to end.

Come in your power

and come in your weakness

in any case

and make all things new.

Amen.”

Walter Brueggemann, Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth

 

----------------------------------------

 

We may feel tried

And depleted

 

And in our hunger yearn for God to come in power

To change it all.  Now!

To cast down the sun and moon,

To take the twinkle out of the stars

 

Genesis reversed

Creation cast back in darkness and chaos

We want God to rescue us, and punish them

Embrace us, and empty the world of all

WE

do not embrace

 

But this God of our hearts desire

This deity of domination and retribution

Tho yearned for has not come

 

Generations after generation trods through history

Waiting, pleading for the eschaton

The time

 

For we do not need God to come

Four ghastly horsemen

All blood and desolation

 

What we need is for God to come in powerful weakness

To come ready to love

Forgive

Ready to be born in a stable

And walk the dusty roads of life

 

And be with us

And talk to us

And love us

 

To advent with us

To come and keep coming

Like wind and fire to cleanse and fill our souls

 

And teach us to love

 

Yes

That is what we really need

How we heal

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But you’ve got to believe in love,

So your heart can melt away.

And I know you’ll have it all someday…

 

You’ve got to believe in love.

When you’ve got to rise above.

You’ve got to believe in love…

          From "Believe In Love" by Enuff Z'nuff.

____________________________

 

The air is filled with talk of war

The faithful are called to be warriors!

 

Warriors for God

Warriors who faithfully battle

Against the forces of darkness

Who stand firm for God

Who refused to be seduced by science and liberal ideology

 

The air is filled with talk of trial and tribulation

And the faithful are exhorted to overcome evil

 

With good, yes!

But what does good look like when the air is filled

With the vapors of domination

And when evil is inclusive and good is exclusive?

 

When enemies are plentiful and the elect are few?

 

Does it look like books banned?

People demonized? Judged? Minimized?

Does it look like the elect dominating and controlling?

Does it look like a slashed tire, outside a small rural library where a Queer librarian seeks to provide resources to youth struggling with where they land on the gender spectrum?

 

Does winning look like people minimized?

Demonized?

Cowed? Frightened? Threatened? Harmed? Killed?

 

I am called to believe

I am called to believe there is a power woven into this world.

A power woven into the fabric of my being, and every person’s being

 

And that this power is Love

Personified in Jesus

Personified too in people like Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr.

Rosalyn and Jimmy Carter

And by my beautiful friends in the LGBTQI+ community

Who are kind, caring, generous, and precious

 

A power expressed through our humanity, not perfectly,

But still

Clear

 

I believe the world is a hurting place

I believe it needs healing

I believe we do get seduced by “the way of the world”

 

But the way of the world is not personified

By people who believe in science

Or people who are queer

Or by people who believe we must protect the planet

Or by those with a “liberal” ideology

 

But by arrogance.  And a desire to dominate, intimidate, and control

The way of the world is seen in authoritarianism and the way of intimidation

And retribution

 

There is a lovely Christmas carol

That says “Love has come, a light in the darkness…

Love is God now asleep in the hay.”

 

When I think of God’s love, my heart needs to melt, not harden

I need to become a peacemaker, not a warrior

And no, peace does NOT come through subjugation

(that is the true distortion of the Gospel)

But through service

Kindness

Acceptance

Welcome

 

I have got to believe

But I have to believe in Love

 

And I do believe

I do believe in Love, and in the fact

That if we come together, united, in love

We can heal the world

Or maybe just our small little piece of this beautiful planet

which is one incarnation of Love

 

We can only heal love with love

 

The long journey

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It has been a long night’s journey toward day

Inordinate blessings have fallen

Like gentle rain

Upon me

 

Privilege has stalked my path

Easing the way

Affluence

Education

A certain degree of comeliness

And a facile yet fragile mind

 

I have trod through life

Piling success and accomplishment upon

Accomplishment and success

 

And yet

As I stare at this somewhat wrinkled face

Through eyes not no longer quite work

I also see, in those eyes

In the failed smile

A profound sense of failure

 

It is as if the amazing giftedness I care

Has been canceled out by a failure to ignite

An inability to be my best self

 

This is not a new burden

I have carried this thought forever

And have used my gifts poorly at times

 

Flailing, striving, seeking to be born

 

One can make excuses

But in the end it comes down (I think)

To one basic thing

Letting one’s self be loved

And learning to love and accept one’s self

 

We must all, at some point

Take a journey inward

We must wander in, breaching our own defenses

Stumbling, falling, deeply into ourselves

And in that inner space

Where Sacred dwells

 

We must allow ourselves to be embraced

And we must embrace

Ourselves

Loved and loving

We must find fullness, wholeness

 

And then, only then

Can we journey outward

 

Without that inner journey,

We are fragmented inside

Scattered and unsettled

 

And thus we are driven, impelled

To reach out

Needy

Seeking

 

Trying to find, perhaps create value

 

I have spent my life trying too hard

To convince myself, to convince others

That I have value

That I am OK

 

And I have convinced few

Instead I have come across opinionated (well, yes, I am)

Arrogant perhaps

Closed, definitely

 

Always asserting, promoting, pushing, flirting (when I was younger)

Seeking

That which could not be found

 

Leaving behind people

Irritated, hurt, betrayed, turned off, disappointed

Rather than people

Healed, helped, encouraged, love

 

And I have medicated my sense of failure

In ways not helpful

 

And so now,

Worn and a bit tired

Wrinkly and fleshy

I am a bit tired, a bit disappointed

And still unsettled

 

Still seeking to find what I have from time to time found

The peace which passes all understanding

 

Perhaps it is not to late

To let go of all that binds

And become a person with a heart set free

And just be

me

 

(I have always wanted to be poet, but I am primarily prose.  I am embracing that

 I will never, probably, produce the short, powerful type poems that I so love from

 Souls like Jan Richardson, Mary Oliver or even John O’Donohue. I am just me, with my own weird poetic prose.  Thanks be to God)

Life

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Here is the thing

About this journey we call life

 

there is no map

there is no road

there is no clear destination

 

If we think that this life takes us

on, albeit, a certain uncertain path

where we struggle through the valley

and clamber to the heights

 

and finally make it to that “place that’s really swell” (Pema Chodron)

 

we will find ourselves in pain

striving, grasping,

holding on to things that grow heavy

and drag us down until we can barely move

and fall into despair

 

there are just moments

that come

and go

then come again

 

moments that make us stumble

and fall

others which life us up

into a semblance of joy

 

the trick is to catch ourselves,

gently and compassionately catching ourselves

as we move from moment to moment

 

pain comes and leaves, then comes again

peace comes, and leaves

then comes again

 

and we just put one foot

in front of the other

waiting for the advent again

 

of something

call it love, call it hope

call it joy, call it peace

call it Sacred, call it

God

 

waiting

and falling

stumbling in the dark

catching ourselves again, and again, and again

with compassion

 

and taking one more step

in to pain, into ease

into war, into peace

 

letting go of the expectations, the foul agendas we have embraced

letting go too, of the joy

taking one more step

one more breath

 

with open mind

and a heart

awakened

 

on our way to?

 

union perhaps

with that something, some One

who waits to draw us into Love

union perhaps

with those we meet along the way

union, a reconciliation, with our true self

 

on our way to

Advent perhaps

 

Once upon a time, or so we are told

One came who entered the earth fully

Who loved deeply

 

One who was fully himself

but who died to self

but who died

only to live

 

Who showed us how to make this journey

Who promised to be with us on this journey

And who calls us

To follow

 

To enter the earth fully

And to walk along the certain uncertain path

In union with Love

Filled with love

Ever letting go.  Ever dying to self

Ever being reborn

 

Starting fresh

Each day, each moment

Taking a deep breath

Shaking of the things that bind us

 

And taking one more step

 

Each moment we do

Is an Advent

The arrival in us, and through us

Of love

 

Until we take that final step

and in surprise

find ourselves finally and totally

lost in Love

 

fill me

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One of my favorite stories is about the Pentecostal man who had a little trouble living an exemplary life. In fact, he was a mess.  He lied.  He drank too much.  He cheated.  His “sins” were many.

 

But every week, as behaviorally challenged as he was, he came to worship.

And every week he listened to the sermon

And every week he was convicted

And every week he answered the altar call and would go down front to confess and be renewed

 

As he made the trek down the aisle to the front of the church, where the pastor was waiting he would often chant, ”Fill me Jesus, Fill me.  Fill me Jesus fill me”

 

Finally, one week, one of the women in the congregation could deal with it no longer.  As he chanted “Fill me Jesus fill me: she shouted “Don’t do it, Jesus, he leaks”

 

The fact is

We all leak.

 

We can’t help ourselves

We are all a bit cracked (2 Corinthians 4)

And whatever fills us

Whatever is there at the center of who we are,

Oozes out of us

 

One way or another

In our words, attitudes, priorities, values, and actions.

 

My mother used to say “Garbage in, garbage out”

She had a point.

What we consume as food matters

What we consume emotionally, intellectually, spiritually

Matters

 

So we have to be careful what we consume

We have to pay attention to what we are being fed

The proof of what we are devouring is in the living

 

Who am I allowing to fill my plate?

What are they putting on my plate?

What am I eating?

 

What am I getting from my political idols?

When I listen to them speak, am I moved to be a person of love?

Or am I filled with a lust for domination and retribution?

Am I encouraged to be a better person?  Or am I dragged into the realm of hate and fear?

 

What am I getting from my church? (or in my case, what am I dispensing)

Am I helping people to forgive, accept, welcome, value others, ALL others?

Am I helping them to see other people as children of God?

 

What is the “fruit” of those times spent on the computer, watching TV, or even reading?

 

I’ll know by looking honestly at what leaks out of me!

Is it love?  Kindness? Patience? Generosity? Welcome?

Or is it anger? Hate? Judgement? Even cruelty?

 

A friend of mine, a truck driver, posted a meme on Facebook

It was a picture of a diesel engine.  The captions said.

If there is no oil under it, there is no oil in it.

 

Today, as I enter into yet another day,

In a world filled with strife and hate

A country divided

 

My fervent hope is that I will be filled with Jesus

Filled with love

That I will choose wisely what I consume!

 

And yes, I truly do hope that I leak!

 

Those who make us blossom

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“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

                               Marcel Proust

_____________________________________

 

It is easy these days to be churlish

From the moment we wake up (in the dark)

To the moment we go to sleep (many hours after dark)

 

We are assailed by annoyances and aggravations

Some minor, some profound

 

From the cat scratching at the bedroom door at 2am

To the dog growling at mythical beasts at 4am

 

From the empty shelves at the grocery store

To the myopic and thoughtless responses on Facebook

 

From the latest political polls

To the hate filled, lie filled venom of some political rallies

Where there is no plan for the future, but only promised retribution and cruelty

(cheered on by people caught up in the hate)

 

From the stark pictures of humanity’s inhumanity to humanity

The devastation in Gaza, the horror of Hamas

The warming world,

To the hard reality that your family will not be with you this Thanksgiving

 

We are assailed by the negative

and if we are not careful, soon find ourselves sinking

into the ooze and slime and old decay

into the swamp of our own resentments

 

and yet

we are Sacred children

gifted children

beloved children

 

we have something that, if we can stop

and breathe

go deep and settle,

 

will lift us up

 

Paul says it well in Philippians (4)

"I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

 

I am not suggesting some sort of simplistic piety

Sometimes life sucks and we are brought low

 

But we can rebound

And even in the face of need and want

We can find abundance

 

As Mary Oliver so beautifully puts it

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”

 

This day as I struggle with many things

(I will not list them for they may not be your “things”)

It is time, is it past time

To be grateful

 

and this day I am grateful for people

I am grateful for my family who love me

I am grateful for friends, who seem to be able to look past my flaws

I am grateful for the dedicated people I work with, for their determination and compassion

I am grateful for those people who grace the pews and (these days) the computer screens on Sunday morning

I am grateful for those I agree with

I am grateful for those I don’t agree with (they keep me honest and humble)

 

I am grateful for all those who, in so many ways

Till the soil of my soul

And make me a better person

 

Blessings to those charming gardeners who make my soul blossom

You may not know who you are (although I hope you do)

But I do

 

Thank you

like a mighty wind

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And Jesus

When he had cried again with a loud voice

Gave up the Ghost

 

The nephesh,

The pneuma

The breath of God which had filled him to overflowing

 

So that God poured out of him like a mighty wind

Left

 

Ah, Holy Spirit

Breath of God

 

It makes sense to me

To think of the Presence of the Almighty as breath

It makes sense to think of it filling Jesus

Empowering

Defining

 

Until he was the Son of Man

God with us

 

But there were others who also

Who inspired Sacred Presence

Breathed it in

 

People who were mostly good

Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Jacob

People who had their issues

Ananias, Sapphira, Herod

 

All we are told “gave up the ghost”

Which meant, they all had it.

It was there, in Jesus and Herod

 

It is there in me and in you

We all, this is the mystery of life and grace

Have inspired Sacred

 

God is in us

As close as our breath

 

When we were born

God became a guest

Incarnate if you will

 

When we were born

We became the cradle into which Christ was born

 

And we carry the Sacred with us

Throughout our lives

The more open we are to that Spirit

The more we breathe God in

The more our lives are shaped by God’s presence

 

But all of us

From Jesus to Herod

From a person like Rosemary Carter

To the worst person you can think of

 

Carries the pneuma

In Spiritu

 

And that presence will not leave

Until our time on spaceship Earth is done

Only then

Do we give up the ghost

 

Today I am going to look for the “ghost”

The nephesh/pneuma of God

 

I am going to look for it in the wind that bends the trees

In the frosty breath of the horses

 

I am going to look for it in each person I meet

Each person I see on the news

 

In the rise and fall of each chest

I am going to seek God

Love

Presence

 

And I am going to know

That as long as there is breath, there is God

 

And there is hope

For change, for transformation,

For goodness

For love