Scripture

Gathering Around the Fire

Steve · December 8, 2022 · Leave a Comment

A Christmas Message and Video

For two thousand years, Christians have gathered around fires, in churches and in their homes to retell the story of the Incarnation and birth of Jesus Christ. They have passed on the good news to each other — and especially to their children — that God decided He needed to be with us, needed to become one of us.

We believe the story of the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem to be true history. But it’s also a powerful message for us still today. It challenges us to live differently because of Christ who now lives in and with us. We still need this Incarnated Jesus, just as God knew we would. We need a walking, breathing, working-with-us Jesus. Otherwise, he remains a word on a page of old parchment, an unfulfilled promise, an old story that’s nice to listen to but never quite seems real.

This Christmas, when the family gathers around the tree or the fire, make sure the story of Jesus doesn’t get lost in the piles of wrapping paper. Begin your celebration with the story that changed us forever.

Over the past several weeks, my musical collaborators (John Caravelli and Phil Cooper) and I gathered in my studio to write, arrange and record a new song that tells the story of Christmas and the Incarnation through the lens of John the Evangelist and the poetic and epic words of the first chapter of his gospel — “In the beginning was the Word…”

TO VIEW THE VIDEO, scroll down a little…or click here to go directly to YouTube.

Here are the lyrics:

From ancient days a story’s told
A message hopeful from the cold.
Around the fire, we huddle close
The Word of God — a child, chose.

Through this Word all things were made
Without this child, no light arrays.
In him was life and light for all
A light so bright that darkness falls.

The Word became flesh and moved into our lives
And the flesh became grace and saw through our disguise
The grace was a spark that lifted us higher
That dances and burns within us around the fire.

Still today, the Word remains
Alive each day, the kingdom reigns.
In all creation, all time and place
For every heart, a gift of grace.

Again we gather ‘round the fire
A family joined by God’s desire.
We celebrate that holy night
And live our way into the light.

Around the Fire
Words and music by John Caravelli, Phil Cooper and Steve Givens
© 2022 Potter’s Mark Music

A Week of Indifference

Steve · November 20, 2022 · Leave a Comment

I continued praying this past week with “Journey with Jesus,” Larry Warner’s guide through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. The theme was “indifference,” in the Ignatian sense of the word, so let’s begin there…

— Although “indifference” is often used to speak of not caring about something or having a lack of passion, in this spiritual sense it carries a different (and deeper) meaning. When properly understood and embraced, it leads to a freedom to say yes to God and no to the things that lead us away from God. This indifference is a “detachment” from those kinds of desires. (Warner, p. 94)

— Or as Gerald May writes, it is a freedom not from desire but for desire: “An authentic spiritual understanding of detachment devalues neither desire nor the objects of desire. Instead, it aims at correcting one’s own anxious grasping in order to free one’s self for a committed relationship with God.”

— The opposite of indifference (for Ignatius) is a “disordered love” that would exert authority over individuals to such a degree that that they would be incapable of choosing to say yes to God and to God’s purpose for their lives. (Warner, p. 94)

A few more thoughts from my journal this week (I hope they challenge you as they did me):

— We all can recite (at the very least) the first verse of the 23^rd Psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I want.” But can we bring ourselves to really live that out? Are we content with the things we have (and have been given)? Paraphrasing Philippians 4:11-13):

Are we content and self-sufficient? This self-sufficiency doesn’t mean we can do and provide everything ourselves but, rather, that with God we have everything that we need. We can live humbly, and we can be comfortable with abundance, depending on what God gives us. Whether hungry or full-bellied, in abundance or in need, we have strength for everything through Christ who empowers us.

— As we look over our possessions and wealth (however meagre or grand), can we recognize them all as gift? Would we be able let go of them if they got in the way of our love of God and others? Would losing possessions and savings be the end of us or the beginning of something different?

— What do we worry about? What keeps us up at night? Those concerns reveal what is dearest to us, what we treasure in our hearts. Do we use these treasures to draw us closer to God and love others more completely, or are we just storing them up for another day and constantly worrying about losing them?

— “We cannot see things in perspective until we cease to hug them to our own bosom.” (Thomas Merton)

— Inspired by Psalm 63:1, Psalm 42:1-2, and Philippians 3:8

For you I long, yearn, thirst,
Like dry land in desperate need of water
Lifeless without you,
Desiring animation through you.
As the deer longs for a drink from a cool stream
[or as those elephants in African documentaries walk for hundreds of miles in the dry season]
So I desire you, Giver of life,
Are pulled toward you, somehow.
Everything else is temporary oasis is an ever-shifting desert.

A Week of Challenge – Servanthood before Self

Steve · November 12, 2022 · 1 Comment

As I continued my way this week through “Journey with Jesus,” Larry Warner’s guide through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, the theme was “service,” with Jesus set before us as role model. The grace I was told to pray for was the ability to own my role as one who serves others. Here are a few thoughts from my journal…

— “Jesus did not come to be served but to serve.” (Matthew 20:28) This challenge to “be like Jesus” I find both inspirational and an obstacle. After all, I am not Jesus, am not both human and divine. So that’s a pretty high bar against which to measure myself. And yet, we have been made “little less than gods” (Psalm 8:5) and have within us a divine spark placed there at our baptisms and fanned into flame by the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit. We don’t get to play the “I’m not Jesus” card. We need to try and live up to what has been placed in us.

— Inspired by John 13:12-17

I can still feel the water and the texture of the towel, his rough hands on my calloused feet, wiping away the grit, gently massaging and drying them. Now he has moved on to the person next to me, whose feet are, well, even worse than mine were. As he knelt before me, I couldn’t look him in the eyes, couldn’t begin to fathom why he would do such a thing. Just as I was beginning to believe he might be special, might be the One, he goes and does something like this. This can’ be the image he’s shooting for. This is going to be his brand? He finishes and stands before us.

“Do you know why I did this?” he asks.

I haven’t a clue.

“You have an idea of who I am,” he begins, “you call me teacher and master. You’ve seen the miracles and heard my words.”

We nod. We’re ready.

“And now you’ve seen me do this. To serve instead of being served. This is more important.”

Silence. None of us know what to say.

“So if I do this…” he begins, leading us like a schoolteacher into our grammar books.

Silence again. Finally someone ventures a guess. “We need to do the same.”

Ding-ding. We have a winner.

“This is the way to live,” he says. “Hearing my words and understanding them is not enough. Get down on your hands and knees and live them out.”

Once again, I find he is turning my world and comfortable way of doing things upside down.

— Teach us, good Lord, to serve you as you deserve.
To give, and to not count the cost,
To fight, and to not heed the wounds,
To toil, and to not seek for rest,
To labor, and not to ask for any reward,
Except that of knowing that we do your will. (St. Ignatius Loyola)

— Inspired by Romans 12:1-2

We offer up our bodies and minds
As prayers and living sacrifices
Worship that pleases God, we hope.
Not swayed by what pleases the crowds but, instead,
Open to transformation
Daily renewal of
Mind and spirit
By what we do and choose not to.
We align ourselves to God
Better to discern what we have been made for.

Ask yourself:

— To what am I drawn?
— What am I uniquely called and created to do?
— Can I empty myself of my “wants” so I can better understand what God wants of me?
— Can I give without counting the cost of my time, effort, work and wealth?

A Week of Reverence

Steve · November 5, 2022 · 3 Comments

I am slowly making my way through Larry Warner’s book, “Journey with Jesus,” yet another modern (and insightful) take on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. This past week, the theme was “reverence,” and over and over I was praying for the grace to be in awe of God. Here are a few thoughts from my journal…

— Yesterday I walked the wooded path that loops around Mallard Lake near my home. I was still contemplating the theme from the previous week in the book, which was “praise.” Surrounded by the wonder of creation, sometimes there are just no words to express even that praise to the Creator. I guess that’s the purpose of awe. Sometimes we just need to stand in awe and allow the silence of our thoughts to do the work of praise.

The changing and falling leaves. The turtle sunning itself midstream on a log. A big re-headed pileated woodpecker constantly on the move, flitting tree to tree as if just trying to stay ahead of me. Is that you, God? Slow down. My response is to stop and take it all in. What I felt was God’s extravagance. I know these are all just natural, biological things with lives and rhythms of their own. They are common and ordinary. And yet if we stop and pay attention, they hold a glimpse of the Creator and the divine ongoing work of creation — all seemingly for my enjoyment in that moment.

— Inspired by 1 Chronicles 16: 23-25

The Earth, and everything in it, sings to God.
Intones God’s glory and action.
Fills us with awe.
The splendor of the Earth announces and presents God to us.
Nature sings in harmony:
“You think this is so great? You should see who made us!”
We are called to shift our gaze from the created to the Creator.
When we do, a whole new world opens up.
We enter in as if entering a temple, for surely we are.
So bring yourself as a gift before the altar of fallen tree and exposed rock
Stand still in your awe and feel yourself tremble.
Listen to the Earth and take up the song:
Water rippling over rocks.
The whisper of grass and grain.
Trees reaching high in near-silent psalms of praise.
My own mouth breathing out.
My small voice sings.

— I have an overwhelming sense of awe of the presence of God in my life, this God who just keeps showing up in the simple and ordinary, in my work, in those who surround me, in the everyday miracles of nature.

— Inspired by From Revelation 4:6-11

In unimaginable beauty, I find myself before the throne,
Radiant, as if all light comes from that one place.
As if.
Speechless, unsure of myself,
And yet words tumble out of mystery and doubt:
Holy.
You are holy.
You have always been, and are, and will be.
Worthy.
You are worthy
To receive my little psalms of praise
My nods of reverence.

What is your song of reverence today?

An Invitation Home to Grace

Steve · September 4, 2022 · 6 Comments

In a few weeks I will begin another year of guiding another person through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. After a few weeks of “preparation days,” an introduction to this 500-year-old way of drawing closer to God, we will begin what is called “The First Week,” so named because the Exercises were originally created to be experienced over a period of thirty days.

This first week is a deep dive into our lives of faith and sin. It’s a time for recollecting and remembering where we failed and, perhaps, where we are still failing to live up to God’s idea for us and our lives.

Sin can sometimes be tough to wrap our heads around, especially in the 21^st century when we are often challenged and prodded to make our own rules and set our own standards. I’m no moral theologian, and I certainly don’t write today as an arbiter of anyone else’s sin.

What I do believe (and what I tell my retreatants) is that we don’t spend time recalling past and present sins to hurl ourselves into unhealthy guilt and shame. We spend this time so we can be more aware of the power of grace and forgiveness. Some people leave their churches and their lives of faith because they can’t own up to their failures and sins. Sometimes those very churches and the people within them even make it difficult for them to return or make them feel unwelcome to do so. In those cases, sin and failure abound.

We need to realize what the prodigal son realized when — flabbergasted, I would like to think — he found himself standing in a field not far from his father’s house, not condemned but forgiven:

I am standing in my father’s field
where I have no right to be
embraced, somehow
despite sins and ugly choices
called son, yet undeserved
a robe across tired shoulders
a ring on a calloused hand
sandals on cracked soles.

This is a celebration to which I should not be invited
yet here I stand
a feast for sin replaced by mercy.
O happy fault that gives
life in death
joy for guilt
found lostness
grace amazing.