Unfolding Light

There’s a great listening going on.
If you listen you can hear it.
Animals hear things we can’t, or won’t.
The trees guard their silence
to hear the soil, hear the wind,
hear every word, especially the unspoken.
When you’re buried earth listens so carefully to you,
to the soft tissues, and everything else.
Orbiting planets aren’t just caught in math,
they’re listening, sun and earth hearing and responding.
The universe holds its ear to your heart.
And there is a great listening among us, us jabbery people,
to the tales and the songs and the cries and the lies.
The sounds settle down in us
where only our bones can hear, but they do.
Beneath the roar and rattle you can hear this porous world
taking it all in, in the desert, yes, the ocean depths,
and even in the city, even in the deaf.
We can stop our ears with earbuds of noise,
or dismiss the jangle, open ourselves,
and join the great listening.

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

The rain that rained last night is past,
though it’s not gone, but hidden here beneath us,
purling, pooling down below our feet,
seeping into every green, patient thing.
The peepers now are singing, each to each.
The beeches, young and old, do not beseech
but simply reach for light. They’re always right.
The morning light lies calmly on the limbs.
It’s in no hurry. It is resting.
The leaves nod calmly and receive.
The brook will never doubt the spring,
but opens up its throat and sings.
I would stay longer here, in heaven’s little taste,
but it’s no waste to take this blessing with me,
and know it in the streets and living rooms and offices,
and learn this trust: that everything is given, all is graced.
The ants are working hard and yet, by mercy
that’s not theirs they find their food; the wren
among the grit and sand and bits of trash we drop
is given seeds, takes wing, and pausing, gladly sings.


_________________
Weather Report

Joy,
borne on winds beyond our control,
falling like rain
throughout the night
before we were aware.
Chance of flooded hearts.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           “I am the way and the truth and the life.”
                       —John 14.6

Some people gather around a monument,
like a statue of a rock star they love,
or a president they would have voted for.
But it’s Jesus. They get points, I guess, for coming there.
They admire the statue, read about it from a little book,
some even kneel and pray, or toss a coin or something.
Then they go back to whatever they were doing.

If you look at it just right the statue seems to gesture,
as if to invite the viewer onto a path behind it.
Some people take the path. For them that’s Jesus.

But for me there’s no statue, not even
one pointing the way. Not even a path.
There’s just the one I walk with.
He is the path.
Whenever I make him into a statue he vanishes.
As soon as he becomes a laid-out path he leaves it.
But if I keep walking with him he stays with me.
It’s the walking-with.
The moment-by-moment choosing, serving,
being loved and loving,
harmonizing in a two-part jazz improvisation.

If I forget, if I somehow lose my way,
I can always go back to the statue and look. When I do
I hear singing, a sweet tune that needs a little harmony.
When I start down the old familiar path
I hear a voice behind me say. “Wait. Let’s go this way.”…

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

           “Do not let your hearts be troubled.
           Believe in God; believe also in me.”
                       —John 14.1

People have little glittery knick knacks and posters
that say “Believe”… often accompanied by unicorns.
Every Christmas the movies want you to “believe!”
In what? Santa Claus? Unicorns?
We’re ruining that word.
What Jesus means is to trust,
not just to think the spindly rope bridge will hold,
but to walk across it.

          +

Beloved, beyond opinions about you,
we entrust ourselves to your grace.
We trust your loving presence, and we follow.
Every day, though the bridge is sometimes shaky,
we are learning to trust you.


Breath prayer:
                           Trust . . . love

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

By the mystery of grace,
the imperishable power of love,
death rolls over in its grave,
sighs,
and lets go.

               •

No one could hold onto Jesus—
the soldiers at the tomb,
Mary in the garden,
the disciples at Emmaus.
Every time he slips through our fingers
and into our hearts.

                •

Resurrection is such a mystery;
it’s hard to grasp
letting go,
being held.

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

When you are asleep
you hang in God’s closet.
Every morning God gets up
and stands there wondering,
“What shall I wear today?”
God chooses you and puts you on.
That’s when you wake up.

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

          Beloved, you are my shepherd.
          You lead me in good paths
          for your name’s sake.
                       —Psalm 23.1, 3

Resurrection is not just comfort,
it’s courage. It’s a signpost.
It points to the victory
of love and nonviolence
over evil, death and injustice.
It indicates the good path
where our good shepherd leads us,
through the shadowed valley of suffering,
to bring to the table of grace
even our enemies.
For, dying, love endures.
Failing, love wins.
So we follow good paths
with courage to live gently,
to serve humbly, to forgive freely,
to risk boldly for the sake of the vulnerable.
Such is the path to life
that can’t be taken from us, even by death,
an abundantly fruiting tree,
rooted in the eternal heart of God.
So nourished in this peculiar green pasture
of dying and rising,
and so gently led
by our dying and rising shepherd,
with love and courage we go.

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

You lean gently toward me,
stethoscope placed to hear
what I can’t hear.

Your rich silence
is itself a word.

Every time I speak
I interrupt your listening.

What is within,
hearing itself heard,
is changed.

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

           The shepherd
           calls their own sheep by name
           and leads them out….
           The sheep follow the shepherd
           because they know that voice.
                       —John 10. 3, 4

There is no sound.
It’s not a word.
It’s the name rain has for earth,
the name a mother has
for the child inside her
before it is born.
It is the name you become,
the voice that speaks you into being,
spoken only as the tongue
speaks flavor to the mind,
as a spring speaks the river.
A name that is not spoken in love,
a voice that knows an algorithm
but not your soul,
you safely ignore.
You listen for the voice that knows you,
that wakens you into life;
and that voice you follow,
like roots for water,
like leaves to sun.
You follow
so that life, deep and flourishing,
is yours.

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

In the mist rises something like a tree,
arms outstretched, as a yoke,
in its branches fruit, and blood,
planted by a stream all of life drinks from.
It’s missing an apple.
A lynching tree, maybe,
in midday sun,
where the birds of the air
make nests in its branches,
whose leaves are for
the healing of the nations.
A fruitless tree not cut down,
but dug around with manure.
Something like a serpent in it, lifted up,
a tree of good and evil,
a child climbing there,
the root of Jesse,
a woman beneath it, weeping.
Something like a vine
of which we are branches,
embracing everything,
the root and seed and leaf,
the cutting down of the tree
and the new tree all one thing,
a tree coming up in spring
out of a seed that has died,
out of stone, out of a grave,
blossoming in the dead of winter,
in the dead of all of us,
holding up the sky as night falls
and falls and falls.
Something like a tree,
on which is hung our salvation.

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