What is holiness?

Words of Charles Marsh, taken from the book, The Sacredness of Questioning Everything by David Dark.

If only holiness were measured by the volume of our incessant chatter, we would be universally praised as the most holy nation on earth. But in our fretful, theatrical piety, we have come to mistake noisiness for holiness, and we have presumed to know, with a clarity and certitude that not even the angels dared claim, the divine will for the world. We have organized our needs with the confidence that God is on our side, now and always, whether we feed the poor or corral them into ghettos.

To a nation filled with intense religious fervor, the Hebrew prophet Amos said: You are not the holy people you imagine yourselves to be. Though the land is filled with festivals and assemblies, with songs and melodies, and with so much pious talk, these are not the sounds and sights that are pleasing to the Lord. "Take away from me the noise of your congregations," Amos says, "you who have turned justice into poison."

One day I met up with a very content and peaceful tree...

If I could be more like you—

Graciously flexible

With every gust of wind

With every drop of rain

Yet stubbornly confident

Being in your right and proper place

Knowing where you should be

Here

And when you should be

Now

And never being elsewhere

Future or past

Near or far

And always

Faithfully

Growing, changing

Aging without complaint

And somehow always willing

To let go

Of that which is finished

And patiently trusting

That which is yet to come

Will come

In the right and proper time

No need to rush

No need to worry

No need at all

A wise man once said...

Faith without works, like it or not, isn't faith to begin with. And what we do, practically speaking, might be accompanied by occasional explanation when it's requested. But the work, if you like, is faith enough. Witness enough too. The only witness, actually. Witness isn't a personal profession of faith. Actions speak, and profession, at best, merely elaborates on actions, explaining the why and the how. We need not add how strongly we believe in God.

We're doing what we believe, and we're not doing what we don't.

-- David Dark, The Sacredness of Questioning Everything

Here's the Rub...

I’m struggling with Christmas. It’s all about celebrating Jesus, about Jesus being born and Jesus being God and Jesus saving us and saving the whole world.

And we celebrate Jesus— we remember his birth, his life, his death, his resurrection— by making Christmas wish lists, buying hundreds of dollars of presents for family and friends, wrapping it all up in fancy paper and bows, spending hours opening up the paper and bows only to see the exact items that we specifically asked for on our wish lists. And then we top it all off by eating lots of rich, fatty, sugary food that makes us feel sick and bloated and guilty.

I’m struggling because I want the gifts and food and all day family party just as much as the next person. It feels good, it feels familiar, it feels like Christmas. It’s how it’s always been and how it’s supposed to be. I like making a Christmas list and getting what I want. I like eating too much food because it tastes good. I like spending all day with my family doing fun things.

But what does it have to do with Jesus? Why do we do all these things and then say that Jesus is the reason for the season. It seems to me we’re lying, plain and simple. We don’t spend all that money on Jesus —we spend it on buying luxury items for people who already have plenty. We spend it on buying food that would feed twice as many people. We spend it on Christmas trees and ornaments and lights and garlands and wrapping paper and cards. What does this have to do with Jesus?

Why can’t we just be honest with ourselves and admit that actually remembering Jesus would kind of suck because it would mean giving away our things instead of getting new things. It would mean spending time with strangers who have nothing instead of spending a whole day with our family and friends. It would mean feeding the starving instead of stuffing our own faces. And you have to admit, that would really suck. I don’t like that; you don’t like that. So we don’t do that. We don’t celebrate Christmas because we love Jesus. We celebrate Christmas because it feels good.

And I’m not quite sure what we’re supposed to do with that. Inserting a short prayer, the story of Jesus or some group Christmas caroling doesn’t really change the focus much. It’s just what we do so we can say that Jesus was the reason for our celebration. It’s just what we do to appease our conscience when that little small voice inside tells us that something about Christmas isn’t quite right.

If the story of the Grinch came true and all of it was gone—the trees, the lights, the gifts, the food—would we still be celebrating? Would the Grinch be able to hear our joyful songs ringing through the air on Christmas morning? Would we still have the spirit of Christmas in our hearts without all of the physical symbols of Christmas present?

I’m really not so sure.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Rejoice!

God sends a Word:

A Word to remind us

Of the love we once knew,

Of the freedom we once lived in,

Of the joy with which we sang.

God sends a Word:

A Word to renew

What has long been forgotten,

To rebuild in our hearts

The true and ancient love

That has crumbled and fallen away.

God sends a Word:

A Word to restore us

To our own true selves,

To a deep understanding

Of our place in eternity,

Of our place in His heart.

God sends a Word:

A Word to change everything.

Hear the Word and rejoice!

All Is Well - A medieval winter lullaby

One by one

Each leaf will fall

The earth will embrace us

One and all

Each bloom will drop

The tree grow bare

All becomes still

As winter draws near

A mist rolls in

And all will sleep

Our breathing is soft

Our slumber is deep

We rest, we dream

We find our peace

In earth’s sweet embrace

Our woes we release

All are sleeping

No more weeping

Resting, waiting

All is well

In earth’s embrace

There’s no more fleeing

Rest and wait

All will be well

The gray skies may

Be dark as night

But hope is not fleeting

Nor out of sight

While storms are brewing

Wars are fought

But deep in our dreams

These storms reach us not

All are sleeping

No more weeping

Resting, waiting

All is well

In earth’s embrace

There’s no more fleeing

Rest and wait

All will be well

When the glorious

Morning is here

The storm will be over

All will be clear

As we awake

From our sleep

We’ll gather our loved ones

Safely to keep

All are sleeping

No more weeping

Resting, waiting

All is well

In earth’s embrace

There’s no more fleeing

Rest and wait

All will be well

A Much Needed Reminder This Christmas Season...

I found a list of statistics in a book that I'm reading that reminded me of my blessings, my responsibilities, my priorities, my values, and my weaknesses. I felt like it mattered even more to be reminded of reality like this at Christmas time when so much of our energy and time goes to buying gifts and making wish lists, planning menus and cooking feasts, putting up decorations and stringing the twinkle lights. It's all about crowded malls and doorbuster sales, sparkling candles and decadent desserts, Christmas wrap and the season's hottest toys.

But what does it all look like in light of reality?

• One billion people in the world do not have access to clean water, while the average American uses four hundred to six hundred liters of water a day.
• Forty percent of people in the world lack basic sanitation, while forty-nine million diapers are used and thrown away in America every day.
• By far, most of the people in the world do not own a car. One-third of American families own three cars.

These are just a few of the numerous statistics out there about how the world really works, about how people live their lives, about all the things that other people don't have and will never have because we have it all. There's nothing left for the impoverished of the world to have, no resources, no extra dollars sitting around, waiting for the unfortunate poor to claim them. The United States of America makes up less than five percent of the world's population. This five percent of all people has twenty percent of all the world's wealth.

Shouldn't knowing these things change how we do Christmas, change how we do life every day, change how we feel about what we have?

* information borrowed from Jesus Wants To Save Christians by Rob Bell and Don Golden

Love Is Not A Fight

The following is a song that stops me in my tracks every time I hear it. It grabs me and makes me listen, makes me think, sometimes makes me cry. If we're not willing to fight for love, what are we willing to fight for? 

Love Is Not A Fight

By Warren Barfield

Love is not a place

To come and go as we please

It's a house we enter in

Then commit to never leave

So lock the door behind you

Throw away the key

We'll work it out together

Let it bring us to our knees

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door

No, love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for

To some, love is a word

That they can fall into

But when they're falling out

Keeping that word is hard to do

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door

No, love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for

Love will come to save us

If we'll only call

He will ask nothing from us

But demand we give our all

Love is a shelter in a raging storm

Love is peace in the middle of a war

And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door

No, love is not a fight, but it's something worth fighting for

I will fight for you

Would you fight for me?

It's worth fighting for

Being here, being now...

Why is it that the human mind constantly wanders away from the present, from the current moment into the near future, far future, possible future. It's so hard, sometimes seemingly impossible, to stay present, to be here.

Instead, I look at my place in life right now and wish for something different. When I live in an apartment, I wish for a house. When I live only with my husband, I wish for children. When I work in a school, I wish to go back to school. When I have spare time to be quiet, I look for more ways to fill my time. I’m not good at being quiet anymore. I’m not good at being by myself anymore. I’m not good at committing, at practicing, at being devoted to whatever is going on in my life.

I want to be more present, more centered on what is here and now. But I’m scared—I’m scared of being by myself; I’m scared of my thoughts; I’m scared of my weaknesses; I’m scared of my true emotions. How do I sit down and make it happen? How do I find a way to love being with myself? What are the distractions for, really? What do they do for me? They empty me, dull my mind, my thoughts, cover up the other noises in my head and in my heart. What am I missing in the midst of my television shows and internet surfing and dance music? What am I trying to miss? What will happen if I stop, if I just let myself see what is really going on, let it all out, let go? What happens?

And then what does a modern day person do with their time if they are not surfing the web, watching TV and listening to noise of some kind hours upon hours every day? How do I spend that time? How do I not spend that time, but rather just soak in that time? I don’t even know where to start. I think I used to. It didn’t always feel like this. I think I knew what to do with the silence, with the space, with the extra moments that stretch into extra hours. I faintly remember it feeling right, feeling peaceful, feeling comfortable. But now it just feels frightening. I’m frightened, but I want to be alive, more alive than I’m letting myself be right now. I want to be whole, balanced, well, content and at peace. Where is this place I’m searching for? Will I find it if I search my heart? Will I find it in stillness, in meditation, in contemplation? Will I find it within myself to love myself and love being myself?

Right here, right now. This is all I need.

Always so eager to jump to the next step in my life, my feet barely make contact with the patch of life I’m hovering in right now. I’m going to miss it if I don’t pay enough attention. I’m going to pass by opportunities, blessings, connections, and special memories. I won’t ever have a chance to live this moment over again, so I have to be here in a solid, firm, and tangible way. I have to stop trying so hard to find out what’s coming because what I have right now is what I need.

Where I’m at, who I’m with, and what I’m doing matter here and now. Those things are satisfying, important, crucial, meaningful, sometimes simply delightful. The smiles I’m blessed with every day, the conversations I have with my friends and family, a hug and a kiss from my husband, a new thought that pops into my head, a walk through my neighborhood with the wind whipping through my hair, beautiful bird song greeting me at unexpected moments, every moment precious, every moment the moment I need.

I don’t need tomorrow yet. I don’t need next year yet. I’m here, and I’m happy.

It does make a difference

I listened to something today that really hit me in the face with the reality of how I see the world around me. There are things or people that I judge, ridicule, criticize, mock, or view with complete indifference. And it's just straight up ignorance every time. You can't do those things if you actually know the person or the facts. You can't hate somebody if you actually know them, see them for who they truly are, because really we're all the same. I have to change how I think. It really does make a difference.

Change

I want to

I need to

It makes a difference

Who I am

What I think

What I see

Change

From indifference

To caring

From sarcasm

To sincerity

From criticism

To mercy

From ridicule

To empathy

I have to

Change

You can't keep your eyes closed all the time.

Lately, I've been crying about things more than usual. But I think it's a good thing. I feel like I'm more open right now, more vulnerable, maybe more honest and willing to face the things that hurt.

Life goes by

Keeps moving

Keeps changing

And all you can do

Is hold on really tight

Hold on

To anything that seems

Almost secure

And then

You close your eyes

Preparing for the loop

The flip you knew was coming

And then you open up

And hit the next

The one you weren’t expecting

You forgot to close your eyes

So you saw

Life, pain

Everything you’ve been avoiding

And you couldn’t help

But cry

Memories of Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is so different now than it was when I was young. Some things are hard to describe though, hard to remember from so many years back.

The house rings with joyful sounds of family gathered together. I love just being here with so many cousins and my aunts and uncles and my four siblings. And all the hugs, genuine, happy, it’s-wonderful-to-see you hugs that you can look forward to every year. Big, cheerful Uncle Jim hugs, warm Aunt Judy hugs, Grandpa hugs that smell just like Grandpa should. Every person here loving me, smothering me in their warm, true love.

Finally we all sit down to our meal, two tables to fit everyone. And Grandpa sits at the head of the table, says a prayer, watches all of his children and grandchildren with his eyes sparkling, almost in tears any time his whole family is gathered close. Grandpa has so much tender love in his face every Thanksgiving.

And sitting there eating with my family, everything feels warm, inside and out. It’s safe, it’s secure. Everything embraces me: familiar faces, familiar smells, everything is just as it should be, and I can be just who I am.

Grandma’s food is pretty much perfect in every way. The smell of slow-cooked deliciousness fresh from the kitchen comes to the table to fill the whole house; every bite filled with just enough moistness, savory seasoning, tartness, textures that melt in the mouth. Grandma’s love is in this food, all cooked carefully, expertly, with a lifetime of practice. It’s delicious, Grandma, it’s amazing.

I’m enveloped in laughter, conversation, joking and teasing. I don’t have to participate in it; I can just drink it all in, be taken in by the joy of being with family. I can bathe in the comfort of the sounds and sights and smells. My role is listening, smiling, watching, wishing it would continue forever.

I marvel at the wonder and beauty of the universe around us.

Can you hear it?

The sky is crystal clear

Look up and see

Glistening, gleaming, glowing

And singing

The stars are singing

It’s a love song, I think

To you, to us

To everybody

Stars love singing

And dancing and laughing

And loving

This is what makes them

Shine so brightly

Souls are the same

They need to dance

To move, to flow

To be free

To shine

All creation has this dance

A steady turning and churning

Like a heartbeat

And the ocean’s tides

And the orbits of the planets

They all move together

And sing together

And live together

And love each other

They all need each other

To be whole

To truly exist

The souls and the stars

And everything else

Completely intertwined

In this dance

Completely alive

In this dance

Can you hear it?

And The Seasons Collide...

Each and every leaf is ready

For this wind that will blow through

They're hanging, trembling, watching, waiting,

Arrayed in all their brilliant hues

Settled in the understanding

That in this passing all must do

There is no such thing as ending

Only falling into something new

Wonderful, Glorious Storms

A fresh wind is

Sweeping through

With the first rainfall

Of the season

Set aside those humid, muggy

Scorching summer days

Give me fresh

Invigorating

New breath in my lungs

Give me gusts

Gulps of rich sky

Winds that whip the wisps

Of hair around my head

In a free and wild

Heavenly halo

Bring the heavens to me

Bring me skies that sing

With voices clear and ringing

Bring me clouds clapping

Jubilant and joyful

Bring me torrents

Or only a trembling sprinkle

Of rain inviting

New life with every drop

Oh skies, oh wind

Oh wild rains

Sing to me

Keep singing

A wise woman once said...

      Poetry and prayer are synonymous in my life, and because both are a gift, which I accept with joy and sometimes pain, I seldom know whether I have served the gift well or ill. But perhaps that doesn't really matter; the important thing is to be willing- to want to serve the gift whenever it comes, either as verse or prayer.

~Madeleine L'Engle

The Weather of the Heart

Rainy Day Walks

How do I describe this kind of Joy?

To the old couple

Hanging their Christmas lights

With precision and care

Several days before Thanksgiving.

To the young father

With his two little boys,

Out flying a kite on this divinely windy day.

What will a little rain hurt?

To the middle aged man

Darting through the streets on his bike

Who takes a rest here and there

While his dog does the heavy lifting.

To walks on a windy day

That turn into a joyous celebration

Of downpours, of windstorms,

Of the prickling cold

That makes every inch of you

Feel so alive.

Oh, the Joy!