Daily Reflections and Worship Resources
Beloved, I sought revelation.
When I look
I do not see you,
only
your seeing me.
•
Nothing I say to you
have you not said to me.
•
There is no great thing
I wouldn’t do for you.
There is no little thing I do
without you.
•
You cross my mind,
I cross my heart,
we cross the desert
every day.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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They are robed, educated, well-situated,
who offer you the cup,
but they received it from one who is suffering.
Standing at the table saying
“This is my blood” they are quoting
those whose it is.
The peace and comfort are misleading:
on that original night, doom hung over the table;
at Emmaus it was traumatized hearts that came to;
on the beach he shared breakfast
with souls still pulling themselves together.
The bread is broken among those who are not whole;
the cup is poured out in those who are poured out.
This is who he brings to the table with him.
When the Risen comes to us in the Broken
we can’t help but look around
and see the fracture that binds us,
the healings—so many—without which
we ourselves are not healed.
We rise from the table not to glibly praise him
but to find him, to serve him,
at last to heal him.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:26 — 2.0MB)
The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground,
the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left.
—Exodus 14.22
Did they run, nervous that the miracle
would at any moment collapse?
Did they march through the sea bottom,
focused on the next stage,
forgetting to look around?
Did they amble across the seabed,
talking about the latest game?
Did they curse the Egyptians,
or just tremble at the miracle?
Did they notice? Did they stop to gawk?
Do you?
You think it’s over?
You don’t think God is holding
the seas of the universe
in untiring arms this very moment
for our sake?
You don’t think the ground we walk on right now
isn’t miraculous?
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:08 — 1.6MB)
The stone that the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone.
—Matthew 21.42 (Ps. 118.22)
The builders, mind you, will continue to reject it.
The market will account it as nothing.
The empire will neglect it at best,
more likely denounce it.
Your own instinct will be to distrust it,
your thinking will pass over it.
Face it: the grace of God has no place in this world,
no belonging, no authority.
It is misfit. Outcast.
Oddity at best, perhaps a threat.
Which is to say,
it is sheer mystery, pure gift,
and constant miracle.
Those who rely upon God’s grace
will be scorned, and ridiculed,
and also saved.
Choose bravely.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:11 — 1.6MB)
Imagine, Jesus says,
some rebellious vineyard workers
who beat the owner’s servants
and kill the owner’s son
to try to seize the business.
That’s a bit much, we reply.
But how cruelly do we try
to twist the realm of grace
toward our own benefit?
How badly do we hurt
the people who hold us accountable
to God’s demand for justice?
How brazenly do we kill
the creatures of God who remind us
of who it is to whom we belong?
How terribly do we mangle
the vineyard of God’s love?
How, even in my own prayers,
do I try to take over,
and do harm to the mysterious grace of God?
What would it be like
to be a willing worker in the vineyard of love
and let the owner, the Creator,
receive all the benefit?
Imagine, Jesus says.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:11 — 1.6MB)
It doesn’t matter how far
you have to walk through the desert,
how rough the bucket you bear.
Go to the well of God
deep within.
There is a spring of pure forgiveness.
Lower your bucket way deep.
Don’t stop drinking.
Go ahead, empty the well;
the more you take
the purer it gets.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 0:34 — 806.7KB)
Gentle One, you have wounded me.
Your grace has pierced my armor.
Your truth has clawed through
my lies and illusions.
Your love has shattered my defenses.
The talons of your mercy have cut through
all my bitterness to the heart of my anger and fear.
Your forgiveness has crushed my shame.
Your suffering love has torn my heart.
The little self I worked so hard to create
lies faint, breathing shallow.
I am helpless before you.
I bleed with your blood.
Pierced by your light,
I am filled with your light.
Broken by your grace, I am made whole.
O Crucified One, Lover of my Soul,
in you I am brought to death,
and raised again.
Alleluia.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:20 — 1.8MB)
The elders said, “By what authority
are you doing these things,
and who gave you this authority?”
—Matthew 21.23
Where does the meadowlark get its song?
How dare the daffodil blossom
when snow is still on the ground?
What makes the bee think it can fly?
Who told the moon to tease us so,
to hide her face and then come back,
to pull at us like that?
And you, who said you can be as lovely as you are?
Hell’s deputies will accost you.
The ignorant, marionettes of their fear,
demand to know who’s pulling your strings.
No one.
Love flows from within,
a spring of water in the rock.
Badges? We don’t need no stinkin’ badges.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:11 — 1.6MB)
The poor sun,
knowing only its own brightness,
has never seen shade,
never witnessed darkness,
knows nothing of night
and its gentle cloak,
doesn’t know how an object,
an apple, say, or a face,
curves into shadow
and how the shadow
makes it so lovely,
makes it deep and round,
blessed by the shape of its disappearing,
sweetened by loss,
inviting an arm around
its other side.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 0:46 — 1.1MB)
In the market
they give you these goggles
you don’t even realize you’ve got.
They’re so you buy stuff and fit in.
They give you the opposite of x-ray vision.
They’re fogged up and chintzy,
so the surface of everything
is glitzed and shiny
but you can’t see beneath.
You can see how someone dresses
but not how they feel.
You can see something’s wrong with someone
but nothing else.
You can’t see the prophet
in the woman at the well.
You can’t see God sitting there, patiently,
with Joseph in Pharaoh’s prison.
You can’t see the water in the rock.
You can’t see the Messiah
distilled down into the lowly.
You can’t see what is, just what sparkles.
To the miraculous, people will say, “How dare you?”
To healers they’ll cry, “Who do you think you are?”
Ignore them. Take those foggy goggles off.
Someone is always slipping them on you again.
Every time you awaken, you have regained them.
Take them off again. Look beneath.
The water in the rock, the saint in the prison cell,
the luminous presence of God, are right here,
for those who have eyes to see.
Look beneath.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 1:40 — 2.3MB)