Today's Word

Today’s Word: Holy

Steve · November 21, 2013 · Leave a Comment

Sacred Heart in Chinandega, Nicaragua market. SJG photo

Sanctus — holy — the brass candleholder gleams,
here in the chapel at noon.
I am making my presence known to the Holy One
and the Holy One to me.
We behold each other
and I know I am not worthy to even be here,
know that mounds of dark failure and sin,
— a life full, day full, moment full —
(it doesn’t matter how much or how little)
should separate me from sanctus but do not.

The stained-glass face on the side window,
above the radiating and sacred heart,
holds my glance like a Word I’ve never seen before
as I try to puzzle out its meaning and source.
And yet this face knows my name, my life,
and never blinks or changes expression,
revealing divine compassion and grace
so abundant I would drown
were it water.

For I am covered in grace, not sin.
Enveloped in hope, not in my past.
Secure in that gaze.
Wrapped in that holy.
Held in that love.
Sanctus. Sanctus. Sanctus.

Ask yourself in silence: Where do I experience the holy and sacred? What holds my gaze and points me to the divine?

Today’s Word: Erosion

Steve · November 20, 2013 · 1 Comment

Standing on the south rim of the Grand Canyon just a few weeks ago, I watched the setting sun splash its light against the ancient red walls of the canyon, aware that all this beauty was created by the destructive force of the Colorado River over millions of years. The continuous flow of water over stone created this natural wonder of the world. From erosion comes beauty and new life.

We spend the first halves of our lives growing and gathering — families, friends, careers, financial stability. All good things. But we are also aware as we grow older that things are slowly eroding around us, a flood of undercurrents and losses that can leave us speechless and hanging on for our lives. We watch as family and friends die and our own bodies begin to change and fail us. We look in the mirror and find someone we hardly recognize. And yet, there is beauty that comes with this aging process and, if we pay close attention, we receive a gift — an awareness of God and God’s presence that perhaps we did not see when we were younger. For what once was just water and rocks — the stuff of life — has become evidence of a love that extends beyond time and knows no boundaries. A love and grace wider than the Grand Canyon. For from the erosion of self comes the bounty of God and the newness of a new kind of life.

Ask yourself in silence: What do I see now that I couldn’t see when I was younger? How has the presence and image of God changed in my life?

Today’s Word: Community

Steve · November 12, 2013 · 3 Comments

Taize2 — Taizé service at Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona. SJG photo

Last week while in Sedona, we attended a Taizé prayer service at the simple yet majestic Chapel of the Holy Cross, built into the side of a mountain just outside of Sedona in the mid-1950s. [For more information on the chapel and its designer — a woman architect who was a student of Frank Lloyd Wright — see an article I wrote when we visited two years ago.] Like the chapel itself, Taizé services are simple in their elegance and designed to draw all Christians into communion with each other and God, regardless of denominational lines. Founded in the aftermath of World War II in Taizé, France, the Taizé community was founded as a “parable of community that wants its life to be a sign of reconciliation between divided Christians and between separated peoples.” The services are simple and employ both silent meditation and simple mantra-style chants that are easily sung regardless of language barriers.

Taize1 — Taizé service at Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona. SJG photo

That Monday evening outside Sedona, both locals and visitors filled the small chapel, singing with the guitar-led choir, listening to scripture (Philippians 1:1-7) and, one by one, placing our prayers as small votive candles around a crucifix lying on the floor near the altar. In the presence of these connected strangers, I found that our simplest actions of devotion and prayer can seem the most meaningful. No thundering music or pulpit-pounding preacher this night, but rather uncommon acts of faith and quiet prayer drew and held us together, like a small chapel clinging to the side of an impossibly beautiful landscape, beckoning us to forgive ourselves and one another and bind ourselves to a God who knows us despite our creeds and places of birth. Amen, I whispered, the simplest of words that reminds me to simply believe.

Ask yourself in silence: Where do I find community? Where have I found community in the most unlikely place?

For more information on Taizé, visit their multi-lingual website.

Today’s Word: Restoration

Steve · November 11, 2013 · 5 Comments

coxscomb — Cockscomb Butte, Sedona. SJG photo

Centennial Trail in Sedona, Arizona is an easy, short, paved hike, only two-thirds of a mile out and back. More of a stroll than a hike, really. The view is pretty good of the nearby red rock formations, including the imposing Cockscomb Butte. The sunsets are great because it’s a flat, open area and you can see both the sunset itself and the golden light that plays on the mountains to the horizon’s east. So while it’s not much of a trail, the views can be rewarding. But the most interesting thing about Centennial Trail, for me, is the knowledge that it was built on the site of Sedona’s long-time city dump. You can still see the sun glancing off small bits of glass and metal that are the remains of decades of debris. The city restored the area for Sedona’s Centennial celebration in 2002, thus the name.

stones — On Centennial Trail, Sedona. SJG photo

The trail is a reminder that beauty — both the physical beauty of the world and our own inner beauty that flows from the presence of the Spirit of God — can very often lie under our histories of neglect and even abuse. We can walk the paths of our lives and feel like the remains of someone else’s life, not realizing that we are actually choice spots of radiant beauty, vantage points from which others might someday be able to pass en route to glimpsing the glory of God just beyond us. We await only the nurturing touch and the gentle weeding of the gardener’s hand. Restored…we can be restored.

Ask yourself in silence: What is the debris of my life? From what do I need to be restored?

Note: I wrote a similar piece a few years ago about another former city dump in Ft. Bragg, California.

Today’s Word: Perspective

Steve · November 6, 2013 · 1 Comment

Chimney1 — Chimney Rock, Sedona. SJG photo

This week, Sue and I are in Sedona, Arizona, soaking up the beauty and grandeur of God’s creation as seen in the red rock formations that encircle the town. Look in any direction and the scene before you has the power to take your breath away if you are open to the power of creation to move and inspire you. And it’s pretty easy to feel inspired — that is, full of the breath and spirit of God — when you’re surrounded by such majesty.

But one of the things we’ve noticed as we take our daily hikes is how our perspective on this beauty changes as the trails twist and turn through the foothills. One such trail encircles a formation called “Chimney Rock,” named for the obvious shape of the rock when viewed from a distance and from a certain angle. When approaching the trail from Highway 89A, it would be hard not to say, “Yep, it looks just like a chimney.”

But as we began the slow trek around Chimney Rock, the truth became evident. For Chimney Rock is not a solitary obelisk at all but, in fact, three closely aligned towers. Viewed from this different perspective, we see more than before. Only by immersing ourselves in the landscape, by getting off the highway and onto the footpath, is this made clear.

Chimney3 — Chimney Rock, Sedona. SJG photo.

It is a lesson that translates easily to our lives of faith, where we are called to see beyond the obvious, to embrace the opportunity to see God in new ways and from fresh perspectives. Like taking a walk on a serpentine path on which you cannot see the way ahead or know for sure where it ends, our lives of prayer immerse us in the mystery of God and reveal aspects of the divine that we cannot fathom from the place we began.

Ask yourself in silence: Where do I get my view of God? Has it changed over the years? Do I challenge myself to see God in new ways?

And a belated congratulations to my friend and fellow blogger from Boston, Kathleen Matson, for her beloved Red Sox’s victory over my St. Louis Cardinals in this year’s World Series. Next year!