MEANT TO BE

Like a grain of wheat,

watered and waited,

I spring into this fertile day,

sown by the God of goodness,

bestrewn with the goodness of God.

I sprout, then sprint, then seed, then spread,

all by the calculus of the Creative One

from whom nothing is lost

and no word is wasted,

who, with the strong loving hands

of abundance and abandon,

works the rich black soil of my spirit.

Until, like Lutherans in Lent, I repent, I repent,

for committing the greatest of grievances:

forgetting that, like the rain and the snow

I, too, am heaven sent, and if heaven sent

then heaven meant.

Even in moments when I perceive it not,

there is meaning to my life;

there is power that rests upon me,

there is purpose that resides within me,

there is promise that roils about me,

not only to become, but also to beget.

Today’s poem is based on one of my favorite Bible scriptures...“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:10-11)

WHAT'S YOUR STORY?

The late Andrew Wyeth, American artist perhaps best known for his Christina Olson and Helga paintings and his “realist” style shared in an interview that before he begins a painting he always asks himself, “What story do I want to tell?”

What a great question!

Not just in preparing for a new painting but to ask ourselves in preparing for each new day, in making each new decision, in engaging in each new experience.

At our core we’re all storytellers--all day every day from the moment we awake till the moment we sleep--and then all night long in our dreams. When we can’t find someone who’ll listen, we talk to ourselves. In fact, aren’t we constantly (read: incessantly, obsessively, relentlessly!) doing the self-talk thing? Been doing it for years! But seriously, what is the story we’re telling ourselves?

Jesus said that you and I are the salt of the earth, the light of the world, a city on a hill, a lamp on a stand. (Matthew 5:13-16). Wow! Is the story we’re telling ourselves that promising, that compelling, that inspiring? If not, maybe it’s time we rethink it.

So, what’s your story? Not the one others want you to believe about yourself. Not the one others may believe about you. Neither of those stories is necessarily accurate--and neither matters nearly as much as the one you are telling yourself--all day long.

The good news is we get to choose the story we want to tell. Let’s make it a love-accentuating, compassion-rich and life-affirming one.

TODAY.

LET’S GIVE THE WORLD & OURSELVES A GIFT.

LET’S TAKE TIME TO THINK ABOUT HOW WE THINK.

A MILLION MORNINGS AGO

I look out on the ocean 

from my window seat up high.

The seas, the skies, 

the distant isles greet me, 

“Goo’ day, matey!”

--just as they did yesterday--

with an irrepressible cheeriness.

A whole day has passed, 

the long night as well, 

and so much has happened 

since this time then.

Yet, gazing out at this dawn’s dawning, 

I see the other side of life’s coin, 

where little has lapsed, 

where same gets its name,

and the world is as it was 

a million mornings ago.

I see a lone gull dipping and diving, 

gleefully dancing with the wind,

as if the two are best friends.

I saw that gull’s aerial antics yesterday,

but was it the same or one come and gone?

Has it already sung its swan song?

It reminds me that, in the air of all things living,

I, too, am just passing through, 

dipping, diving, and dancing 

with the winds of time. 

The timeless and timely, 

where do they meet?

At a single rendezvous point

throughout the whole of history

where they’ve met every morning 

since the beginning of is,

at the place where they, too, 

like gull and wind, are besties.

Here they kiss this new day into being,

here they toast their love of all things living,

here they fill each life’s cup full to brimming,

just like they did a million mornings ago.

Where is this place, 

and what is its name? 

The place is Here. 

And its name? 

Now.

IF (A Valentine's Day Poem)

If I were a house, you’d be my home.

If I were a capitol, you’d be my dome.

If I were a clown, you’d be my smile.

If I were a singer, you’d be my style.

If I were a frog, you’d be my log.

If I were a hunter, you’d be my dog.

If I were a ship, you’d be my sea.

If I were a bird, you’d be my bee.

If I were a poem, you’d be my muse,

If I were a sunset, you’d be my hues.

If I were a mountaintop, you’d be my sky.

If I were a twinkle, you’d be my eye.

If I were a window, you’d be my view.

If I were a dream, you’d be my come true.

If I were a book, you’d be my spine.

If I were a hook, you’d be my line.

If I were a flower, you’d be my pot.

If I were a life, you’d be my sweet lot. 

If I were a fire, you’d be my spark.

If I were a grand central, you’d be my park.

If I were a tear, you’d be my shoulder.

If I were a bold, you’d be my bolder.

If I were a pickle, you’d be my jar.

If I were a race driver, you’d be my car.

If I were a lover, you’d be my love.

If I were a morning, you’d be my dove. 

If I were a peacock, you’d be my plume.

If I were a lady, you’d be my perfume.

If I were a kite, you’d be my breeze.

If I were a forest, you’d be my trees.

If I were a midday, you’d be my sun.

If I were a gangster, you’d be my gun.

If I were a treasure, you’d be my chest.

If I were a contest, you’d be my best.

But I’m just a poet, words waiting to be.

It’s you, my love. You set them free.

THE JOURNEY IN OUR JOURNEYS

It’s a pilgrimage of sorts, 

one of pilgrims from all courts,

as we travel stride by stride on this life’s journey. 

By the grit of God’s good grace

we each choose our own pace,

pausing not at life's edge, nor skin, nor peel.

No, we journey through its fruit,

soft flesh, thick pulp, sweet juice, 

toward its center, to its seed, to our source.

There we discover, we recover 

with surprise in our eyes,

the purpose of our being and our breath

is not to see sites on the way,

nor to hold each other’s sway,

but to shine the light within that beams our truth. 

There we learn ‘fore life’s adjourn

all have but one concern:

to sing the song we knew before we came,

that no matter our nature, nation or name,

at heart, we’re all the same. 

At the crossroads of our souls we are one.

Ah yes, to set out is to arrive, 

and to die is to come alive,

This is the journey in our journeys.

MEDITATION 101: PRACTICALLY SPEAKING (Part 6 of 6)

When I was growing up my father’s business sold major appliances. So, if the fridge broke he’d bring home a new fridge...or stove...or furnace. I was impressed. “How smart of him!” I thought, and I enthusiastically affirmed to my 10 year old self, “When I grow up, I’m going to be just like Dad! I’m going to pick a job that’s totally practical!” Eighteen years later, I became a pastor. 

Why are you laughing? 

I’m serious! What could be more practical than learning how to think--and helping others do the same. No. This doesn’t sound very “Christian.” But this is essentially what any and all religion is, isn’t it? Ultimately, isn’t the purpose of the preacher’s sermon to help us think about how we think? Isn’t this why Jesus preached his famous Sermon on the Mount? (And for that matter, isn’t this why it’s included in the Bible--to shape our thinking?!)

When we “think” we formulate thoughts and feelings. From those thoughts and feelings we formulate our beliefs. From those beliefs we formulate our actions. So, how we think is foundational to how we live--with ourselves and with each other. 

This is why I encourage us to learn and engage in the practice of meditation. It gets us to the roots of our thinking and even deeper--into the soil of our soul--where we can come to truly know ourselves, what motivates our being, and how to transform what we learn into concrete ways of contributing to the wellbeing of the world.

Practically speaking.

TODAY.

LET’S GIVE THE WORLD & OURSELVES A GIFT.

LET’S TAKE TIME TO THINK ABOUT HOW WE THINK.

LOVE MANTRA

Love aligns me.

Love allows me.

Love attracts me.

Love anoints me.

2021 2 1 MEDITATION 101: A BIRD’S EGG VIEW (Part 5 of ?)

Obviously, we don’t meditate for meditation’s sake. 

Nor do we meditate so we can tell ourselves and others that we meditate. Meditation, in and of itself, is like the shell of a bird’s egg. It’s just a shell. Yet, as such, its simple but essential role is to permit the growth that is wanting, waiting, and willing to naturally occur inside of it. 

But, without the shell, there is simply no possibility of a bird. 

Without meditation (a.k.a. centering or contemplative prayer, etc.) there is no possibility of the particular kind of growth that is wanting, waiting and willing to naturally occur within each of us--the kind that requires a safe, quiet, protective, away-from-the-world setting. But with this shell, the kind of lasting, authentic growth you can actually see when you look back on your life--the kind you and I can feel in the present moment--the kind that fosters faith, hope and wellbeing for the sake of world’s and our own future--can and will occur.

Naturally.

TODAY.

LET’S GIFT THE WORLD & OURSELVES A GIFT.

LET’S TAKE TIME TO THINK ABOUT HOW WE THINK.