This is one where I looked at the picture that I painted and then wrote the poem. Hope you can see it.
When you watch the sunrise alone The sun not touching the sky When you see a star But not one that belongs When you breathe And the air escapes you That is when you know Love Love in the green and blue Love when the red speaks To the black But should you touch the center Where none are known Then you will Bleed
I saw the sky come down on the dawn I saw the sun set upon itself I watched as night attracted them all But then the sun rose On a beach while I was alone And there was your hand Reaching for mine
We should escape to that place That place of silence That place where I watched The sunrise alone
It is there that the silence Wraps us in the caerulean sky And the only star Brightens the life of so many souls
Here we meet Release me Release me Set me free to wander the night The places where hate roams But has no power The place where pain screams But has no feeling The place where I have no voice But the voice that is you
Drops of rain on the path No matter
I watch the sunrise alone And the star fell I wake
Each year my friend, The Rev. Sean Ekberg, gathers laity and clergy to write a daily Advent reflection. Today (December 23) was mine. You can read it below or visit The Episcopal Church the Resurrection and read there along with some of the other reflections.
Luke 1:57-66
57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown his great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her.
59 On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him Zechariah after his father. 60 But his mother said, “No; he is to be called John.” 61 They said to her, “None of your relatives has this name.” 62 Then they began motioning to his father to find out what name he wanted to give him. 63 He asked for a writing tablet and wrote, “His name is John.” And all of them were amazed. 64 Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. 65 Fear came over all their neighbors, and all these things were talked about throughout the entire hill country of Judea. 66 All who heard them pondered them and said, “What then will this child become?” For, indeed, the hand of the Lord was with him.
His Name is John?
Holden Caulfield loves his sister, Phoebe, and her innocence. He desires that her innocence go unchanged, yet he knows that every experience will change her to one degree or another. Reflecting on her many trips to the museum to view the same paintings that he has enjoyed, he thinks, “I thought how she’d see the same stuff I used to see, and how she’d be different every time she saw it. It didn’t exactly depress me to think about it, but it didn’t make me feel gay as hell, either. Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.” (The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger)
In many respects, the Church had come to see itself as one of those items that should be curated in a big glass case. It should occasionally be brought out to remove the fine layer of dust that had accumulated, along with any unwelcomed spider’s web, and the glass it set upon also properly dusted. But then it should be set back unhindered in its proper place in that big glass cabinet.
Close to two years ago, something came along and smashed the cabinet.
When it hit, we all lunged forward from our comfortable seats and dashed to catch the Church before it struck the ground and burst into thousands of unrecognizable shards. By the grace of God, we caught it, but then what were we to do? Build another glass museum case? Set it out of reach on some high pinnacle? Place it on the nearest flat surface and quietly walk away? No. None of the above. Besides, this is God’s Church and if we were not to care for it, then He would raise up from the stones those who would.
The Bishop, clergy and people of the Diocese of Oklahoma took their Church and began taking a much closer look at it. They peered into stained glass windows and found the wonders of God and signs of a life that they had not anticipated, but one they would embrace. This was something new. In a sense, within the Church, the events of the last few years are like Zechariah giving his newborn son a name that none of his family had ever received, and it was God saying, “Behold I make all things new.” And truthfully, we were all amazed. We were perhaps afraid in trying, but we were doing things that we had not ever imagined. We were speaking to the world in new ways, being creative in how we fulfilled the Great Commission. Sometimes those new ways worked and sometimes the internet signal was not strong enough; but we have persevered and will continue to do so, for we believe that the hand of the Lord is with us.
At the naming of John, Zechariah’s neighbors asked, “What then will this child become?” We can ask the same of the Church in this new era. What will we become? The answer: exactly the Church of which God desires for us to become. Let’s just not go and put ourselves back in another big glass cabinet. Let’s continue to seek new and innovative ways to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ to a world that has also changed. Let’s follow John out into the wilderness and be witness to Love.
For about the last year, my friend and colleague, The Rev. Sean Ekberg and I have been working on a journal for The Episcopal Church and today it went live. It includes interviews with Bishops in the church, a seminary dean, ministry stories, and more. If you would like to know the bright side of The Episcopal Church, then you’re going to want to take some time reading through the articles. It is not a quick read, but it is well worth the time. There is much that is good happening. If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been spending my extra time… here you go. I believe, if you click the image below, it will take you to the Issuu edition.
For those who are interested, at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, we have online Morning Prayer services (Monday – Thursday and sometimes Friday and Saturday) at 10 a.m. on the church YouTube channel and Facebook Live at 10 a.m., and it is also recorded for later viewing. The 10 a.m. Sunday Eucharist service is also available on both platforms. Would be delighted for you to stop by for a visit!
What if we decided that a person’s right to oxygen was more important than a ten minute joy ride in space?
What if we decided that children should not be soldiers instead of being offended that someone might use our preferred pronoun when speaking to/of us?
What if we decided that raising people out of poverty where they live in garbage was more important than a film festival?
What if lives in India mattered as much as lives anywhere else?
What if a drink of water meant more than you getting to work faster?
You can call me a communist or something worse for thinking these “what ifs”, but I think of it as being a Christian. St. Paul would not rest until the sisters and brothers cared for those around them. Why do we?
Oxygen is a basic human right. What if we worked on solving this and then work our way up to the joy rides of our own egos and offenses. I am offended that we are not.
Arrived at the airport in Helena, Montana around 6 p.m…. yesterday! Flight left an hour or so later. Arrived in Salt Lake City and hung about for an hour or so, then at 11 p.m. caught the red eye to Atlanta. Why Atlanta, you ask: because I’m headed to Oklahoma City. Oh, wait… we just passed it and I’ve got to turn around and fly another couple of hours to get back to it. Well, such is the life of one on vacation: you occasionally have to pay for it.
To the confession: I’ve been wearing a mask the entire time. I am tired of the mask. I get the mask, but… so, as I’m walking the never ending concourses of the Atlanta airport, I see a fella has just finished cleaning the “Men’s”. No one else is around and I’m a rebel. I find myself a nice clean smelling stall, lock the door, rip off my mask, and just sit there for about ten minutes breathing eye-watering disinfected air free of my mask. It was brilliant! Please! No one tell the CDC.
It is now 5:52 a.m., “Dirty Laundry” is playing loudly in some closed up bar, and I’m in search of coffee, because I’ve also learned that as long as you are holding something to eat or drink, you can legally keep the mask off. My coffee may be as cold as a divorce lawyer, but I won’t be setting that cup down until it’s time to board.
Here’s hoping you have a mask free day from one living on the edge in toilet stalls across America.
Candle in a Cave 