Seeking Authentic Voice

What if the basic element of life all life, human life and plant life animal life and life beyond this planet what if the basic element of all life is love, emanating through our heart pulsing out into the universe affecting every thing and every one? Love. What if the basic nature of humankind is love? Not greed. Not arrogance.  Not superiority, not aggression, Love.  What if we have it wrong, to think that more is better, that bigger is better, that more and bigger means powerful?  What if that is not really true? Because nothing in nature  ever takes more  than it needs  but when it does,  it dies.  Cancer.  Cancer takes more than it needs. Cancer is a disease that can kill because it has no boundaries, no limits takes more than it needs.  And so it is when humans do that,  take more and more and let others suffer and have less,  then human kind fails, becomes dis-eased, dies. What if we imagine a dif

I wish I could capture the gentle morning light soft lavender and pink, caressing the green trees that hold a hint of fall, a little red and yellow I wish I could capture the peace of early light the song of birds waking and rabbits nibbling clover signs that life goes on no matter the angst of humans I wish I could hold the beauty of this world before all the anger and angst and fear of people and say, all will be well if we but love one another I wish I could hold the love that God has  for God's creatures and creation as an embrace a holding place of calm and peace and grace I wish I could carry everyone in this holding place and soothe the worries with a gentle touch to furrowed brows with a pat on the back and soothing sway, like calming babies I wish that each one of us could look at one's self and wonder, how could I be different? What is being triggered in me? Instead of casting out anxiety, taking time to understand

"Connie" ended up in the church I serve, on a hot night in September. I found her kneeled over at the foot of the altar. When I asked her what I could do for her she looked up at me and said, "I just want to pray." I got her water and food.  Later she asked me, "Will God come?"  And, I said, "Yes, God always comes."  One of the last things she said to me, before she left with the police (someone called them, but they were extremely kind) for a shelter was,  "Do you own this place ?"  I replied, "No. God owns this place."  I found this image on Etsy of a homeless woman and created this icon that now stands in the church. I believe that Connie's coming to us was no accident. God was in her, she was the embodiment of Jesus, and through her I see our purpose for being.  Jesus said, "Whenever you feed the hungry, tend the sick, clothe the naked, you've done so to me." In this stewardship season w

Photo by   Mary Mathis I haven’t run on my treadmill for months, longer than I can remember. But I ran for an hour yesterday morning. I ran because it is one way that I can process all the pent up anxiety that I feel inside. Usually after I run for an hour I feel better, the endorphins kick in and I feel more myself. But this time it did not work. The thick layer of anxiety mixed with despair was stronger than any endorphin I could produce. I live in a kind of chronic fog of depression. It is not clinical depression, not caused by some chemical imbalance. No, this depression is situational, and it’s cumulative and directly correlates to what is going on the world around me. I don’t know how many of you are living in a similar state of chronic anxiety and depression, triggered by the state of our country and our world, and existing regardless of which political polarity one may lean toward.  It’s a tough time to be a man or a woman and even difficult to live as a non bina

God of the broken broken by shame hidden deep and  ignored for years which nonetheless affected everything turned joy to skepticism turned hope to caution turned love to fear turned anger to depression turned abuse to self blame blame. God of the broken break open now the lies and myths that have kept me silent, that have  led me to think  it was me. If only I had If only I had not If only If only If only  If God of the broken break open this pain release its hold remove the grip open me up that I can see  and hear the ages of oppression that contain me guilt me, blame me, shame me. Shame. God of the broken mend the broken pieces of me with love, tender and kind That I may know, truly know. that I am good, worthy, loved, that although  I was treated like  an object for another for their power their gratification their abuse their entitled thrust and