between

Now He is led forth to death, carrying His Cross. O what a spectacle is this! Do you see it? Lo, the government is upon His shoulders. See, here is His rod of equity, His rod of empire. Wine mingled with gall is given Him to drink. He is striped of His garments, which are divided among the soldiers; but His tunic is not rent, but passes by lot to one of them. His dear hands and feet are bored with nails; and He, stretched on the Cross, is hung up between thieves. Of God and men the Mediator, He hangs in the midst between heaven and earth; joining lowest things and highest, earthly things and heavenly; and heaven is bewildered, and earth condoles.
"And what of you? No wonder if, while the sun mourns, you mourn also; if, while the earth shakes, you tremble; if, while rocks rend, your heart is torn; if, while the women beside the Cross are all in tears, you cry aloud with them."
— Anselm of Canterbury, Meditation #84

isaiah 58:5-7

 Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
    only a day for people to humble themselves?
Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
    and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
    a day acceptable to the Lord?

 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

small

Five Minute Friday! :)

He speaks to us
and I see His galaxy spread wide before these eyes.
A billion stars flung with abandon and careful presicion into the inky sky,
and I know.

I am small.

I sit waiting for the wave to crest and carry my kayak up, and I see the ocean spread white tipped wave after white tipped wave,
and I know.

I am small.

My skis slip through the powder like a knife through flour, and the mountains rise high, jagged against the brilliant blue winter sky.
I know.

I am small.

He's big.

That's the right way.

Then one of my favorite stories tells of Elijah wanting to see God:

Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
1 Kings 19:11-13

Another translation calls it the "still, small voice."

To you who know you are small:
listen for the gentle whisper of God who is big.

Love:)

R

until we don't need to remember

He raises the bread up.

This is my body, broken for you.

The cup.

This is my blood spilled for the forgiveness of your sin.

Remember.

And we taste.

Taste and see that the Lord is good,
even in the bitter dregs and the dry crumbs that remain.

We celebrate this.

We celebrate the remembrance, the sacrament,
until the day
He comes again
in glory
and we won't need to remember
because we
will
see.

This
is
no empty ritual.

This
is
practicing the remembrance.

Knowing the price of freedom.

We are free.

Praise God.


Love:)

R

the lost and the finding

The words
left.

They went
away, gone for so long.

They're still
gone.

Inside, though,
I feel them start to rise.

They're so
deep.

Exhaustion does that,
strips you of yourself.

You go so long, you
start to shut down
and you get
lost.

Lost?
Inside.

It's so easy to
hide.

You could do it forever.



I will be found.



Love:)

R

John 1:14-16

The Word became flesh and blood,
    and moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
    the one-of-a-kind glory,
    like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
    true from start to finish.

 John pointed him out and called, “This is the One! The One I told you was coming after me but in fact was ahead of me. He has always been ahead of me, has always had the first word.”

We all live off his generous bounty,
        gift after gift after gift.

a year

What do you do with a year?

Do you speak a benediction over it to close it out,
or do you simply bless the year ahead?

What do you say?

Do you look back into the darkness and the pain?
Or do you reach for the light?

I remember.
I remember dark.
More than the dark,
though,
I remember light.

It wasn't an easy year,
but it was a year of leaning in.

Of hope.

Of hearing the voice of God in the desert canyon,
the whisper of love and peace into the wind.

Of friends who were there.

It was a beautiful year.

Light conquers dark.

Maybe a benediction and a blessing aren't so different after all.
They might even be the same.



Christ in us- the hope of glory.
That is the blessing and the benediction,
the first and the last,
the edges of a year-
of a life.

Do I need anything else?

Christ in us,
the hope of glory.


Love:)

R