Thursday, September 24, 2009

My dearest God,

We sat together, the five of us, remembering the goodness of God. We brought to mind the miracles, the many graces, the challenges and transformations, the movements from hopelessness and helplessness to hope and help, the acts of forgiveness from God, for self and others, the affirmations and gestures of acceptance, the insights, the aha moments, the redemption, the unconditional love, the compassion and mercy, and the indescribable joy and peace we have experienced both individually and as a covenant group. You have been the driving force behind every one of these gifts. You have gently nudged us to healing and wholeness as we trusted more and more in you and accepted the help from our brother and sisters in faith. In a worship exercise that I imagined would last 15 to 20 minutes took most of the morning as we recounted your saving work.

Such an exercise is good for the soul because it gives us opportunity to reflect, to think, to explore the recesses of our mind, body and spirit through which new life comes. Doing it in a worship circle places the credit for such blessings right where they belong.

As the lighted candle danced in the spirit breeze, we could touch the symbols on our altar as we sat round about it. The shell bowl. How many times has your living water breathed new life in us as we drank from your well? The angels cards. How many angels have tenderly cared for us while the dangerous storms brewed all around us? The bible. How many biblical persons have shared their faith stories with us challenging us to move from our pitiful puddles to everlasting life? The devotional book. How many modern day pilgrims have offered their life experiences to us leading us to change and transformation? The music. How many artists, composers, and musicians have sung songs of hope leading us out of darkness? The weaving. How many times has the sacred thread of heaven been woven into our dismal human threads drawing us together, allowing our snags, rips and tears to be held while new patterns were formed giving meaning to those torn places?

Although I did not place the cup and plate on the table altar, we realized that our life of faith together has been a holy communion because we exist to grow our faith, to love you more, to serve our neighbor. If we are stale or stagnant, what fresh word of hope do we have to offer others? If we do not accept the challenges in life as an invitation to change and grow, then we diminish faith to a self-help exercise. If we do not center ourselves on you as God of the Universe, then we simply dance alone with no divine partner. If we remain as we are, we allow cobwebs to grow on all our vital spiritual organs such as our heart, our soul, and our spirit. Death is allowed to grow rather than life.

We have eaten holy manna; we have drunk the wine of heaven. We have pilgrimed together on the winding, twisting, sometimes scary narrow paths of life always in search of the divine. We have never been disappointed.

It is
not difficult
to find you
in human living,
dearest God.
For you are
all around.
You live
in wide fields
and high mountains.
You fill
every nook
and cranny,
every crevice.
You stand
at the precipice
of life.
You are
the air
we breathe
and the water
we drink.
You reside
in the dark
and in
the deep
but you are
also the light
that never
goes out.
Your seed
lives inside
each of us;
every child
of creation
has divine
space within.
You conquer fear
with faith;
your love
overcomes loneliness
and your grace
forgives every sin.
You are God;
indeed there is
no other.

I bow before you, my Lord, Andrea