I know that my redeemer lives - it's not what you think it is.

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I trust you to kill me…

Today, I meditated on a passage of writing by Madeleine L’Engle. The passage talked about suffering and concluded with an affirmation of “I know my redeemer lives”. 

I closed my eyes and let the phrase “I know my redeemer lives” resonate in me….. 

I envisioned that I was led down a staircase and was told I would meet my living redeemer when I got to the bottom.

At the bottom of the staircase, I looked up and saw the grim reaper.   I was surprised and he said, “you knew it would be me.”  And I did.  I thought about the leaves that fall to the ground and rot, become soil and new life.  I thought of the dead animal in the field that decays and becomes soil and new life.  I thought of all the deaths of hopes and dreams and agendas in my life and how even though they were the end of something, they were the birth of something else.   How death is redemptive.  How new life only comes when something old dies. 

Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains a single seed. 

I took the grim reaper’s hand.  It was warm and friendly.  Not scary at all.   This was my redeemer after all.   I asked him, “where are you going to take me?” and he said he wasn’t going to take me anywhere, I was already where I needed to be. 

We just stood there and I thought about how death and suffering are the redeemer.  I thought about how alive death and suffering are all the time.   How my redeemer lives.  

I thought about how that is the story of the crucifixion.  

As the meditation drew to a close, he moved away from me and became large.  He raised his hands and in a loud voice said,  “Behold I make all things new.”  

And he was gone. 

We are told in the Bible that the final enemy to be destroyed is death.   I always thought that this meant that death would be destroyed – as in – death would no longer exist and we would live forever.  But maybe I missed something with this way of seeing it.

After all, we are told that our spiritual lives are supposed to consist of death.   We are to be dying daily, losing our life in order to find it, picking up a cross daily, giving up everything.   How can we live in death mode if the goal is to get rid of death altogether? 

Maybe the passage about destroying the final enemy (death) is talking about the destruction of the enmity – not the destruction of death itself.  We are told that Christ destroyed enmity and reconciled all things.  If this is true, then death is no longer an enemy, but a friend.   Maybe we can see it as a redeemer, just as we see it in the crucifixion.   The sting is taken out.  Death and suffering whether figurative or even literal,  are now simply means to new life, resurrections and the making and growing of new things. 

I know that my redeemer lives.   

 

From "checkmate" by Rumi

The soul is a newly skinned hide, bloody and gross.
Work on it with manual discipline,
and the bitter tanning acid of grief,
and you’ll become lovely, and very strong.

If you can’t do this work yourself, don’t worry.
You don’t even have to make a decision,
one way or another. The Friend, who knows
a lot more than you do, will bring difficulties,
and grief, and sickness,
as medicine, as happiness,
as the essence of the moment when you’re beaten,
when you hear Checkmate, and can finally say

'I trust you to kill me.'

I know that my redeemer lives

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Be Safe

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I just wonder if all this talk about safe has any meaning.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a conference and in every hallway was a hand sanitizer dispenser with the tagline “clean hands are safe hands!”  

It got me thinking about the word “safe”.

I was listening to an Instagram story where the woman was leading her viewers in an embodiment exercise.  In the talk, she invited the viewers to feel a certain thing in their bodies, then added, “if that feels safe for you.”  

It got me thinking about the word “safe.”

The word safe is everywhere. 

There are safe words, safe spaces, safe people, safe rooms, safe sex, radio stations that are “safe for the whole family.”

I grew up in Canada in the seventies.   When I was a kid, I just don’t remember the word safe being everywhere.  I mean, we talked about safety first, but that was in terms of hand signals when we rode our bikes all over town and looking both ways before you crossed the street.  It was nice that we didn’t talk about being safe – we just felt safe. 

Don’t get me wrong, I know that this feeling of safety we had, was just that – a feeling.   Kids were still abducted, women were assaulted, crimes were committed.  In fact, there was probably less actual safety than there is now.  More bullying, more violence enacted upon LGBTQ+ groups, more hateful speech that went unaddressed and even unnoticed.  For that matter, we didn’t even wear seatbelts! 

But, I still wonder if, even though we are perhaps more safe now than then, the more we talk about being safe, the less safe we feel.  

I mean, I didn’t think about the germs on my hands until the dispenser reminded me that my unsanitized hands were unsafe.  I like to think I’m not a germaphobe and I don’t care about the safety of my hands, but the truth is, I stuck them under the spout and de-germed them just about every time I passed one of those dispensers.  

I thought about the Instagram lady and wondered about her choice of words “if that feels safe for you”.   It struck me as odd.   I was expecting, “if that feels comfortable for you.” ---- but not safe. 

If a feeling in my own body is unsafe, what does that mean for me?   That I am unsafe and a danger to myself?  That my emotional and physical responses are unsafe?   This seems like a set up for me to be living with a perpetrator of sorts every moment of every day – me. 

I just wonder if all this talk about safe has any meaning. 

Are we really safe?

Were my hands safe after the sanitizer?  Could I still touch something and pick up a nasty virus?

Are safe spaces safe? 

And what is a safe person?   Obviously, persons who assault us, rape us, abuse us or otherwise harm us are unsafe.  But is a person who says something we don’t want to hear unsafe?  Is a person who hurts our feelings unsafe?  Is a person who leaves us unsafe?  

I mean, is there such a thing as a safe person?  A person who won’t ever hurt us?

Are safe people actually safe? 

See, the thing about safe is ….  it just doesn’t exist - no matter how we might try to protect ourselves from the dangers out there, the people who might hurt us, the germs, the words, the feelings, the drunk drivers, the deranged criminals, the list goes on and on.

So sure, we should work to make the world a better place.  A place where there is less assault, less crime, less harm.  

But, maybe the word “safe” to describe this world just creates a false expectation.

Because….

We’re just not safe. 

And it seems to me the more we talk about safe, the less safe we feel.  

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Prophecy?

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The earth lies polluted
under its inhabitants


The earth dries up and withers,
    the world languishes and withers;
    the heavens languish together with the earth.
The earth lies polluted
    under its inhabitants;
for they have transgressed laws,
    violated the statutes,
    broken the everlasting covenant.
Therefore a curse devours the earth,

    and its inhabitants suffer for their guilt;
therefore the inhabitants of the earth dwindled,
    and few people are left. 

Isaiah 24:4-6


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The Image of the Invisible God (part 2)

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God is what is.

Where is God?

God is everywhere. 

God is “over all and through all and in all.”

God is everything. 

The ancient Genesis poem uses the imagery of god speaking a word and that word becoming the creation.  The word made “flesh”, so to speak. 

An incarnation.

And that incarnation tells us the truth about the divine, the sacred…..god if you will.   

For ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God. (Romans 1:20)

“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you;
    the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you;
or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you;
    and the fish of the sea will declare to you……In god is the life of every living thing
    and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12)  

 We limited the “word became flesh” to the man Jesus, but it was there all along in creation.  

Where is god?

Everywhere.

God is what is. 


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The Image of the Invisible God

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Does all mean all?

My tears have been my food day and night, While they say to me all day long, "Where is your God?" (Psalm 42)

Where is god? 

Is god here? 

“The Lord your God is in your midst,”  Zephaniah 3:17

 In heaven?

Then he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street. On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.There will no longer be any curse; and the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His bond-servants will serve Him; they will see His face.” Revelation 22

 On Earth?

“She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means 'God is with us')." (Isaiah 7)

 In you and me? 

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? “ (I Cor 3:16)

Is god in life?

 “I am the resurrection and the life.” (John 11)

In love?  

“Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4)

In light?

“This is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is Light” (1John 1:5)

Is there anywhere god is not?  

“…one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. “ (Ephesians 4)

If god is in all, and through all, is there anything that is separate from god?  Does “all” really mean “all”.   Or is there something he is not in? 

Is there anywhere god is not?  

“in him is no darkness at all.” (1 John 1:5)

So it’s darkness!! That’s where God is “not”

Right?

Is god in darkness? 

“Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?.....If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. “ (Psalm 139)

Is god in death…. and in suffering? 

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23)

is god in hell?

“If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.” (Psalm 139)

If god is in all and through all, how can we separate where god is and isn’t?  

Does all mean all? 

Is there a place or a situation that god is not in and through and present ?

Jesus himself said in Luke 17:   “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”

Jesus knew there was a danger in trying to decide where god is and where he is not.  He spent a lot of time hanging out in places and with people where it was commonly thought god was “not”.

But we like trying to figure out just where god is. We want to capture god and place god in places that make sense to us and help us feel that there is order to things. The danger we are cautioned against in the first story in Genesis.  Eve wanted this knowledge. 

The knowledge of what is good and what is evil. 

Where god is and where god isn’t

Maybe the word “god” here is an obstacle to the concept. 

What if we changed it and said “the knowledge of what is sacred and what is profane” 

or

“the knowledge of what is divine and what is not”

You fill in the words that work for you.   The concept is the same. 

Perhaps  a radical embrace of god being in all and through all would help us to rid ourselves of much of our dualistic thinking.  Perhaps when we can embrace that god, or the sacred, or the divine or “good” is in all and through all, maybe then and only then we can truly embrace suffering, love our enemy, love our neighbor, love ourselves, take care of our planet.  


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Grace

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Grace makes beauty
out of ugly things

Grace
She takes the blameShe covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name
Grace
It's the name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness
In everything
Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma
When she goes to work
You can hear her strings
Grace finds beauty
In everything
Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips between her fingertips
She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because Grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things
Grace finds beauty
In everything
Grace finds goodness in everything

U2

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Oneness

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Oneness is when you can embrace it all and reject none of it.


A lot of people I talk to are exploring meditation and mindfulness. 

Many say they move away from dualistic thinking and into a sense of oneness as they practice some form of meditation.    

But sometimes, I also hear talk about this journey into oneness as a journey into a place where all is love, light and bliss. 

Let’s be clear.  As soon as we think this, we have moved back into dualism. 

All is NOT love, light and bliss.  There is darkness, pain and suffering.  

Oneness is when you can feel that it is all one.  Love and pain.  Light and darkness.  Bliss and suffering.

Oneness is when you can embrace it all and reject none of it.

Julian of Norwich is one of my favorite mystics. The quote pictured “the fullness of joy is to behold god in everything” is not as simple, nor as religious as it might seem. It’s one thing to behold “god” in a beautiful sunset, a flower, a puppy or a newborn baby. It’s simple to attribute the joy and beauty of life to a god. It’s quite another to behold god in death, suffering and decay.

I don’t pretend to know what god is or to even have a reasonable definition of god. But I can’t help but believe that god IS in everything. In fact , god IS everything. God is simply what IS. The “I-am-ness” of life.

And if that’s the case, then, in fact god is in everything. And we need resist nothing.

It is all one.  It all belongs.   

All is well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well – Julian of Norwich

All manner of thing. 

Oneness.

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Death is not always the enemy


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He could not love that enemy.

 

My religion gave me the imagery of death as the enemy. It taught me scriptures that said death was the enemy.

The last enemy that will be destroyed is death.  1 Corinthians 15:26

But these last few years, as I’ve borne witness to my dad dying little by little, piece by piece, I have begun to feel otherwise.

He fought death with every ounce of his will.  And his will was very strong. 

He could not embrace the enemy of death. 

He could not love that enemy. 

So, he lived much, much longer than anyone ever thought he would, could …… maybe should.

He lived miserably.  Without the ability to do for himself. Without his legs under him.  Without his mind serving him.  

He just could not let go.  

Maybe, just maybe, death is not always the enemy.

Maybe

Sometimes

Life is. 

Art by Carol McNeeley

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Storyteller

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I am my dad’s story and he is mine.

My dad died last week.

We were expecting it. He had been on hospice for eight months. I had prayed to god, or the universe, or whatever power would hear me to release him from his suffering.

It still feels like a punch in the gut.

My dad was a larger than life kind of figure. There is much to say about him and about my relationship with him. Today, I want to talk about how he loved to tell stories.

He liked to create a good story - even with his very self. The picture here is him in a cowboy hat. I grew up in Canada and he liked to wear a cowboy hat around, and wave at strangers and say, “howdy!”. As a kid, this was supremely embarrassing. But, he was creating a persona. A story. Big stories or small.  He loved to tell them.  The bigger the better. He loved to embellish and didn’t let truth get in the way of a good story. 

A lot of the stories he told were not strictly true. He understood that a story isn’t important because of its facts, it’s important because of what it makes you feel, if it makes you laugh, if it makes you brave, if it is memorable. 

And a story has the power to create its own reality.   There is nothing in the world more powerful than a good story.

He came from a poor and abusive family background. In his own life, he told himself the story about how he could do anything he put his mind to. Consequently, he rose above his upbringing and many, many times he just absolutely could do anything because that’s the story he told himself.  I’m sure he won many a football game based on that story. 

My brother tells a story about a time when my dad was coaching for the Detroit Lions. Dad was about 44 or 45 at the time. A little overweight. Not in the greatest shape. There was a young coach there and dad bet the young coach $50 that he could do a back flip from a standing still position. The young coach took one look at my dad’s physique and thought, “no way” and made the bet. Then my dad, from a standing still position launched into the air and did a back flip, landing on his feet.

Now, my dad was a natural athlete , strong and agile, but he had probably not done a standing back flip for 20 years. I am pretty sure he simply did it because he told himself he could. That’s just how he operated.

As his daughter, he told me that I could do anything I put my mind to.  Which is also not strictly true.  There are lots of things I put my mind to over the years that I found I couldn’t actually do.  But the story gave me power to get through many a difficult situation in life and to do many things that I might not have done had I not been told that story. 

He told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  Which is also not strictly true.  But the story gave me confidence to become someone I might not otherwise have become without that story.   

The day dad died, there was an enormous electrical storm.  Then, the power went out moments before he took his last breath.   Right after he was gone, the sun burst out of the clouds and later that day, we had a rainbow.  I like to think that he was making a grand exit.  It’s a good story.  

And sometimes, the story is better than the truth.  It’s bigger and more important than the literal version of what is true.  There are the things that happen in our lives and then there is the story we tell ourselves about those things.  And between the two, it is the stories that make meaning, the stories that give us hope, the stories that make us strong, the stories that make us laugh and…

It’s the stories that make us live on eternally in the minds and hearts of those who loved us.     Because we are one another’s story.  I am my dad’s story and he is mine.  


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God Our Mother

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“This is my body, take and eat.”

God Our Mother
A Poem by Allison Woodard

To be a Mother is to suffer;
To travail in the dark,
stretched and torn,
exposed in half-naked humiliation,
subjected to indignities
for the sake of new life.

To be a Mother is to say,
“This is my body, broken for you,”
And, in the next instant, in response to the created’s primal hunger,
“This is my body, take and eat.”

To be a Mother is to self-empty,
To neither slumber nor sleep,
so attuned You are to cries in the night—
Offering the comfort of Yourself,
and assurances of “I’m here.”

To be a Mother is to weep
over the fighting and exclusions and wounds
your children inflict on one another;
To long for reconciliation and brotherly love
and—when all is said and done—
To gather all parties, the offender and the offended,
into the folds of your embrace
and to whisper in their ears
that they are Beloved.

To be a mother is to be vulnerable—
To be misunderstood,
Railed against,
Blamed
For the heartaches of the bewildered children
who don’t know where else to cast
the angst they feel
over their own existence
in this perplexing universe

To be a mother is to hoist onto your hips those on whom your image is imprinted,
bearing the burden of their weight,
rejoicing in their returned affection,
delighting in their wonder,
bleeding in the presence of their pain.

To be a mother is to be accused of sentimentality one moment,
And injustice the next.
To be the Receiver of endless demands,
Absorber of perpetual complaints,
Reckoner of bottomless needs.

To be a mother is to be an artist;
A keeper of memories past,
Weaver of stories untold,
Visionary of lives looming ahead.

To be a mother is to be the first voice listened to,
And the first disregarded;
To be a Mender of broken creations,
And Comforter of the distraught children
whose hands wrought them.

To be a mother is to be a Touchstone
and the Source,
Bestower of names,
Influencer of identities;
Life giver,
Life shaper,
Empath,
Healer,
and
Original Love.