Tag Archives: word of God

Word – Eventide Psalm of Longing Love

The Father spoke one word, which was his Son,
and this word he speaks always in eternal silence.
 St. John of the Cross.

Sundown

At the woods’ edge I wait for you
to come heal the violence in me.

I look and look at the trees,
scrawled limbs
framing the plum stained sky.

I look and look at the fawn in the clearing,
the cedar with blue berries,
the red sun sliding under the horizon.
I look and look at the dark
creeping over the countryside.

At vespers you
peer in windows,
meow at the door,
home into my heart.
I cannot get enough
of you 
filling my senses
with sweet awareness. 

You, the Word
in whom our wordiness dissolves,*
silence us.

As leaves loosen and float to the earth,
we tumble over, lay our bodies upon the path.
You come, finger over your lips – Hush, be still –
to take back territories in our souls,
lands occupied by greed, fear, envy.

It is 5:28 pm, and I am weary of words,
the fury of opinions, righteous indignation,
and ideas clanking in the mind like heavy coins.

The vain prattle cannot muffle the murmur
of Herods plotting to kill innocents,
nor the hiss of evil waiting under every rock.

Yet I do believe that all we say and do
counts as nothing next to you,
inexorable Word,
bearing down
into us from on high.

His father opened his mouth
spoke mercy
out came Jesus.
Jeshua. Hush! 

His mother squatted over cold stones,
pushed, out came an infant
wailing, wrinkled.
Hush!

The child gazes into our faces.
A hand reaches toward us.
You – absorb our isolation,
sponge up our misery –
a soft warm cheek
to hold against the dark.

image

*The phrase, Word, in whom our wordiness dissolves, appears in the poem, Without Ceremony by Vassar Miller.

Take and Read

The sheer activity of reading scripture … is itself an act of faith, hope, and love, an act of humility and patience. It is a way of saying that we need to hear a fresh word, a word of grace, perhaps even a word of judgment as well as healing, warning as well as welcome.  To open the Bible is to open a window toward Jerusalem, as Daniel did, no matter where our exile may have taken us.         ~ After You Believe, N.T. Wright

A temptation in the contemplative life is to step away from our theological and Biblical underpinnings and become self absorbed in one’s own experience of God. Prayer, meditation, and contemplation are important practices, but without turning and returning to the Word of God in scripture we may lose our bearings. The witness of those who came before us, which we find recorded in the narratives, histories, wisdom literature, and poetry of the Bible forms us in the mystery of the human experience of the Holy One.

Yes, the Bible is sexist, racist, contradictory, bound by historical events, political realities, tribal animosities, tedious, nonsensical, and  a host of other limitations imp0sed by the motley crew of human beings, who have put their hands on it. The Bible also has the hands of the Holy One on it. It is  shot through with the sublime and transcendent Holy Spirit, who has chosen to associate with our species  (only God knows  why) and expose itself to all our messes, as it calls us and holds us accountable to a Being  greater than we ourselves.

Reading the Bible is like opening up a dusty old trunk in the attic full of family records, dim photos, grade cards, farm records, yellowed newspaper clippings, diaries,  bills of sale, and baby booties. Why did they save this? What was so important about this clipping that someone put it away so carefully? Oh, look, there is great great grandpa by the old homestead. Hey, listen to this entry. It’s about great uncle Harry’s trial for stealing horses, “They led the disheveled man in chains into the courtroom…”

In scripture we learn about our roots, who God is and who God calls us to be. We come to know the nature of God, the limitations and weakness of the creation and what it means to be in right relationship with God, with ourselves and with one another. Scripture is a privileged place of meeting the Holy One and a powerful means of spiritual growth.

The discipline of daily Bible reading and reflection holds our feet to the fire. We are unable to squirm away from confronting difficult texts, hard sayings, and truths we may not want to hear. Being moored to scripture keeps us from floating off into philosophical abstraction and metaphysical flights of fancy, by anchoring us to the specific ground of God’s revelation in time and space in particular communities and individuals. Likewise reading scripture encourages us to pay attention to God’s revelation in the concrete messy details of our own lives.

Here is a resource for daily Bible Study I highly recommend.

Disciplines – A Book of Daily Devotions 2013.  Find light for your daily walk with God through The Upper Room Disciplines. In this best-selling devotional book, 53 writers from diverse Christian backgrounds and locales help you explore the Bible’s message for your life. 

New in 2013: Each week opens with a Scripture Overview, followed by four questions or suggestions for reflection for personal or small-group use. Widely available online and at your local bookstore in Kindle and paperback, Disciplines 2013 makes a thoughtful gift for Sunday school teachers, pastors, or anyone who wants to mine the rich treasures of scripture.  

I am honored to again be invited to contribute a week of reflections on the readings from the Revised Common Lectionary. But don’t buy the book just to read my thoughts. You will discover fifty three other writers, waiting to guide you into the transforming encounter with the Word of God. ~ Loretta F. Ross Take and Read
Here is a little story about the power of reading the Bible.

I  was . . . .weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as of a boy or girl, I know not which, coming from a neighboring house, chanting, and oft repeating, “Take and read; take and read.” 

Immediately my countenance was changed, and I began most earnestly to consider whether it was usual for children in any kind of game to sing such words; nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So, restraining the torrent of my tears, I rose up, interpreting it no other way than as a command to me from Heaven to open the book, and to read the first chapter I should light upon.

For I had heard of Antony, that, accidentally coming in whilst the gospel was being read, he received the admonition as if what was read were addressed to him, “Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me.” And by such oracle was he forthwith converted unto Thee.

So quickly I returned to the place where . . . . I had put down the volume of the apostles, when I rose thence. I grasped, opened, and in silence read that paragraph on which my eyes first fell, — “Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.”

No further would I read, nor did I need; for instantly, as the sentence ended, — by a light, as it were, of security infused into my heart, — all the gloom of doubt vanished away.      ~ St. Augustine, Confessions

The Visitor

I hear you,
muffled
by the clamor of my mind
stomping the snow off your boots.

The little cloud of steam
your breath makes
seeps through the cracks
of my door.

Where have you been –
walking to and fro in the forest
gazing into the eyes of the doe
leaving traces of your countenance
wherever you go?

You tap softly.
Why do I keep you waiting?
You bring,
tucked into your sleeve,
the bunny with a missing leg
the sparrow with a broken wing.

You wait.
I do not see the silver dagger
gleaming
like a flame in your pocket.

I am cozy in my chair
wrapped in my reverie,
lulled, at ease, and insular.

Abruptly I recall the man
coming this morning to give
an estimate for repairing my fence.
Get dressed!

I will let you in after that.
But task leads on to task
breakfast, mail, the phone.
The fence man comes and goes.
So does the sun.

Later, I think of the bird and the bunny.

Did you find a warm place
for the weak and broken ones
you carried?

In the night turning over in my sleep
I wake,
bent double and breathless,
pierced by the stab
of your two-edged sword.

I do not know when
you took it out of your pocket
or when it neatly penetrated
between joint and marrow
separating the thick sinew
of self from will.

I only know I am so sorry
here in the dark
and so slow

to learn that opening the door to Life
means the death of me.

. . . God’s word is living, active, and sharper than any two-edged sword. It penetrates to the point where it separates the soul from the spirit and the joints from the marrow. It’s able to judge the heart’s thoughts and intentions. No creature is hidden from it, but rather everything is exposed to the eyes of the one to whom we have to give an answer. Hebrews 4: 12-13 CEV