The Bible’s model family

People who clamor that we should get back to the “Biblical family” don’t know what they’re talking about. Biblical families are sick. Cain murders Abel. Abraham passes his wife off as his sister so men might take her without killing him. Later he tries to kill his son. Jacob cheats Esau and his mom helps him run away. Later he trades deceptions with his father in law. Like Grandpa Abe, he has multiple wives. Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery. David rapes Bathsheba, gets her husband murdered, and marries her. His son Absalom revolts against him and is killed in the war. Jesus’ parables about families all involve disobedient or estranged sons. There doesn’t seem to be a model biblical family; they’re all dysfunctional. They all struggle, and sometimes succeed, to be faithful to each other. In the Bible, family is where you have to work out your Stuff, so you do.

But wait. There is one model of family the Bible consistently smiles on: faithful, loving, functional families. You know who that is? Single mothers. Hagar and Ishmael. Naomi and Ruth. The widow of Zarepheth and her son. The Syrophonecian woman who argues with Jesus for her daughter. Even the Virgin Mary, in a sense. In the gospels, especially at the crucifixion, Mary functions as a single mom. When Jesus lists the things you might sacrifice for your faith—house, lands, family—he says you’ll receive all, including mother and siblings, but no dad. A single-mother family. On the cross, referring to Mary, he says to John, “Behold your mother.” A family is created, not by blood, but by choice —with a single mom. The closest thing to the Bible’s ideal family is a single mother and her kids.

The Bible’s models don’t match our ideals. They reveal God’s preference for those who don’t quite fit our systems and stereotypes. What makes a “biblical family” isn’t anatomy, it’s relationship. It isn’t a father, it’s faithfulness.

Evil

There can be evil in this good world
because in the beginning
when God said ”Let there be light”
the world was born from wanting.
Wanting can go many ways—
divorced from trusting, many bad ones.
The spark inside every evil is urge—
energy toward something,
which is movement, transformation—
which is divine.
Every evil carries the seed
of its own redemption.

All the evil in the world
is no different from mine.
It’s merely the fear
that we don’t have what we need.

But I do.
I just need to practice needing God.
When my trust overtakes my wanting,
I am on the right road.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Wrestling

Traveling between wounds
we pause, make some space in time,

allow the evening pall to be laid over us,
darkness tucked up under our chin,

a stillness purely granted, lowering us
into a well deeper than thought.

Out of the shadows comes another,
strange, but our own.

We’ve kept in shadows, so thought
we had no shadow, but now

it seizes us, grapples, as if
not to destroy but to hold us

to something. We grapple,
not to defend but to hold it

so we can see it. What is it
that knows us better than we do,

that knows our weak spots,
that has such a grip on us?

Our heaven and our earth thrash
like desperate lovers

mirrored, cheek to cheek,
not to conquer but to alter.

There is no victory, only embrace.
As morning light unfolds

the mystery recedes again to shadow,
but not without a blessing, a name.

What we wrestle with
makes us.

We limp gracefully
into our

broken
open future.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Darkness

It is said God dwells in thick darkness.
We can’t imagine how thick.

Sometimes the darkness is so thick
it holds you up.

Sometimes the mystery is so complete
the fear so deep, you can only trust.

Sometimes in the deepest dark, alone,
we feel another hand, unseen, in our hand.

And sometimes the darkness is so solid
that the darkness itself gently holds our hand.

Sometimes the unknowing is so absolute
you know you couldn’t have made this up.

Sometimes darkness
is a way of knowing God.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Turmoil

When turmoil surrounds me I sometimes internalize it:
it becomes inner turmoil. Then I get used to it.
I get habituated. I get addicted
to my own chaos and uncertainty.
But once, on a stormy point—waves crashing—
some seagulls found a spot to sit on the water
where the waves never broke. They rested.
God, give me grace to be at peace, even in the storm,
to let the turmoil pass over me like wind,
to know the upheaval is not mine,
to trust that within any chaos
there is peace that is you—
to rest, even in the storm.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Loaves and fishes

When they ask the elders “How did you do it?
With so little, against so much, how did you do it?”
the answer is always the same.
With five loaves of love and two fish of courage
we marched for justice.
With five loaves of wisdom and two fish of hope
we stood against the tyrant.
With no more than what I could carry in my heart
I left the abuse.
With only a step and a step I marched and stumbled
through recovery.
With scraps and fragments we fed the hungry.
The loaves and fishes we offered up.
The grace was provided.
Kindness multiplies. With small acts and generous hearts
we changed the world.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

There it was

One day there it was.
Hope at the bird feeder.
Gratitude murmuring among
the pebbles in the brook.
Kindness waiting for me
between the sidewalk and the door.
Beauty lying on the windowsill.
Courage with one leaf
in the little blue pot on the porch.
Peace on the shelf, right beside the beans.
Happiness, just sitting there.
I guess they were there all long.
I wonder:
where was I?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
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You reveal

God, you reveal yourself so sparingly!—
a fleeting suspicion, a rising tide in me,
a wisp of interstellar dust, a scent,
a half-emerging thought, a leaning within,
a clarity that veils itself,
shy dancer in the dark,
a light out of the corner of my eye—
but not there now—
hope wearing a chador.

And yet: a continent of green things,
beauty generously outpoured,
the faithfulness of gravity,
the intricate weave of all living things,
the heart’s capacity to love and to forgive,
those I could name for hours who have cared—
God, you reveal yourself so abundantly!

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

Turning the compost

It begins with the thrust of the fork,
piercing the side of the pile,
opening up the flesh of the earth, the scraps
of every sacred meal, the once savory leavings
of every sensuous morsel that passed your lips,
the bright, transcendent moments now
no different from the failures, the spoiled
dishes that hit the garbage before the plate,
the sins and revelations all alike
left to richly rot and bless their grave.
Giving thanks, you upheave the work
of worms and bugs, the dark labor
hidden from your eyes but not your faith,
the transfiguration of the mess
from the leavings of death to living soil.
To theirs you add your labor,
turning the pile, letting what has been
become what shall be, the sower knows not how.
Something within is turning, too, of course,
but understanding is as foreign there as here.
You plunge and lift the fork, and learn to trust
that mystery, as with a seed, in which a thing,
a moment, or a memory, bears more
than can be seen or known, but in its dying
is set free to become yet even more,
grace emerging in the turning. And so you turn
the pile, as with your heart, then come back in,
take off your gloves, and change your shoes, and know
the treasure buried in the field becomes the field,
becomes your life. The holy, turned, becomes
the world.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

The field

You won’t find it in an exotic market
behind a secret beaded curtain,
not on the last hundred meters
of the mountain finally conquered.
You won’t achieve it after a long struggle.
It will come to you, unbidden, lightly masked.
You’ll stumble upon it on a sidewalk.
It will blossom in a small, unremarkable place.
It will be tiny, like yeast, and change everything.
A friend’s glance, a stranger’s comment.
A sudden sunrise of forgiveness, the shadow
of a companion when you thought you were alone.
A portal no greater than a bee on a flower
opens to an entire world inside this one,
of grace unasked, unbound, passed on
like the bee’s dance to any who witness.
For the bee you’d buy the flower, the field,
the world.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
Listen to the audio recording:

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