The Day of Waiting

His friends had just witnessed his brutal death.

Their visions of greatness in his earthly kingdom sealed in a tomb of stone.

Three years of faithful discipleship and they’re all alone.

They left the comforts of family and business

And for what?  To get ridiculed in the end?

Against the majority, they believed in his cause.

They all agreed he was the Messiah.

But that was then.

It was easy to declare sworn allegiance to the cause

When he was walking on the water and visiting with celebrities on the mountain.

Now in the emptiness of grief and loss

The life of before beckoned as comfortable and predictable.

Even though it meant eking out a living on smelly fish.

But anything was better than sitting and waiting on stirrings of the heart.

The boats with their tangled nets beckoned.

The call to the safe comfort in the mundane of daily action

Action that would squelch the holy call to follow the heart of the Father.

Monotonous work that he had called them away from,

Called them to a higher cause, filled them with a burning desire.

But that was then.

Here in the now, in the dark of the waiting

The questions quench the fiery zeal of mission.

The doubts drown out the call of their Master.

The hours drag on, the day grows long and still they wait.

They sit in their grief and the pain of hopes dashed.

The sun sets on their tear-stained faces.

The dark sorrow of the night shows no promise of joy in the new day.

This day of waiting, day of abandonment, it visits us all.

And in the in-between space we wait with heavy hearts.

The questions, the doubts, the tears hang low over our souls.

The loneliness of sorrow erases the Presence of our Master.

The day of dark sorrow leaves us feeling betrayed.

We thought we knew the plan of the Kingdom

But suddenly our Master is gone from our presence.

God is silent and we have nowhere to go.

We left another life behind to follow his call

But the call goes silent and the former life beckons.

The life that was predictable and comfortable, it seems like the only recourse.

In the waiting, our hearts yearn for the silence to cease.

In the waiting, our tears course hot down our cheeks.

Tears of confusion, grief, possibly even tears of the anger of abandonment.

In the waiting, the heart is haunted by the doubts.

Doubts of is God really who he says he is?

Doubts of have we really been following the real Messiah?

In the waiting, the questions threaten our hope.

In the waiting, the questions drown out the still small voice.

The voice of our Master.

The voice we thought we knew.

The voice that used to bring us comfort and direction.

In the waiting, our souls despair

And yet the darkness of the night brings the promise of the dawn.

The dawn of a new day.

A day in which we hear his voice once again.

A day in which he reveals himself once again to us.

A day in which he calls us to an even deeper discipleship.

In the waiting, may our souls find peace.

In the waiting, may our hearts grasp onto hope.

And in the waiting, may we sense the Presence of the Master.

 

Wholeness for All

brokenness

“I cry to the Source of all life, to the Eternal One whose Plan is Wholeness for all…Help me to live the Oneness we are eternally with Love Consciousness.”  –from Psalm 57 in Psalms for Praying by Nan C. Merrill.

Wholeness when brokenness is all I feel;

When shards of regret cut to the quick;

When bad choices of the past shatter the good intentions of the present.

Wholeness, when who I thought I am is in pieces all around me.

Broken walls of the soul scattered on the ground

Exposing the brokenness of a life being worked over by God.

How long until the pieces are crafted into a beautiful mosaic?

How long will I sit here holding the fragments left by surrender?

How long until I feel this wholeness promised by the Master Artisan?

How long, O Love Eternal, till the wounds of brokenness become beautiful scars of the warrior?

How does the soul in shards live the Oneness of Love Eternal?

Who around me will display their brokenness being made whole?

Who will offer to hold the pieces of my brokenness?

Where is the community of broken souls being pieced together into one with the Trinity?

In the midst of grieving the broken pieces can I sense Love Consciousness?

Can I welcome the promises of wholeness even though I don’t understand?

Can I welcome the Presence of the Healer even through the fog of pain?

Through my tears of pain I see the broken body of Jesus embodying wholeness.

I see my broken soul, he sees my beauty.

I feel the sharp pain of the pieces, he feels the pliancy of surrender.

I sense the silent cries for relief, he hears the desire for healing, the longing for wholeness.

Surrounded by the pieces, I invite isolation but he offers the invitation of Oneness.

Love Consciousness pushes away the dust of the pieces to reveal the beautiful mosaic of a broken soul being made whole.

“Help me to live the Oneness we are eternally with Love Consciousness.”

 

 

Redefining Sin

I’m currently reading Richard Rohr’s book Breathing Under Water .  He presents the idea of looking at sin as a disease instead of limiting the definition of sin to something that is unpleasing to God and is punishable.

What if we were to expand our mindset about sin?  What would happen if the church would approach sin in people’s lives as an opportunity to deliver God’s healing presence rather than an opportunity to just deliver the diagnosis of terminal effects of the displeasure of God?

What if we would concentrate our efforts in providing a healing atmosphere instead of diagnosing all that is wrong with the sin-sick soul?  What if we would provide as many doctoring visitations as needed?  What if we stop pointing fingers at the bad choices leading to the havoc of the disease and instead offer an open outstretched hand?  And in that outstretched hand we hold nothing but a promise of connection, of accompaniment on the path of healing.  An offer of healing hope rather than a fateful diagnosis of terminal condemnation.

If sin were recognized as a disease, the church would become a hospital.  A hospital that opens its door to all, withholds treatment from none who seek entrance.  A place full of people displaying their wounds and admitting their need for help.  A place full of people who trust others to treat them with respect and a caring nurture.  A place where the homeless drunk is given the same level of treatment as the affluent CEO.

If sin were recognized as a disease, we would look for the Physician, for the Specialist who has the remedy.  We wouldn’t only look to housekeeping to simply keep our rooms clean.

If sin were seen as a disease, we wouldn’t limit the healing process to recommendations of more prayer, more Bible memorization.  We would admit that the disease is an on-going condition benefiting from multiple healing modalities.  Prescriptions tailored to each individual, not religious placebos handed out en masse.

If we acknowledged sin as a disease, churches would offer those in need of healing, a place to stay for however long they need and the time needed for adequate healing.  They wouldn’t expect instant recovery.

What would happen if sin would be approached as a disease?  We would say “me too!” when someone dared to seek healing.  We would grant the space for healing, the empathetic consideration for the hurting, the gracious offer of time to heal.  We would visit the sick and offer our presence in their healing journey.  We wouldn’t condemn when the symptoms came back, we would offer our sympathies that once again disease had the upper hand.  We would open our doors to all and drive no one away by our insensitive condemnations.

May the proclamation, “Love heals”, invite the diseased to seek the healing presence that can only  be found among those of us who display the wounds of our own diseased but healing souls.