Category Archives: Meditation

Advent2020, art, Meditation, observation

Robin’s Birds

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[Robin Nielson’s sister, JoAnn, sent this card – a Unicef offering of beauty that also provides funds for needy children all around the world. It is beautiful in form and intent.]

They land lightly on my window sills, waiting for their turn at the backyard feeder. Sparrows, cardinals, chickadees, finches, and the occasional flock of grackles, crows, or seagulls offer a glimpse of poetry in motion for the paltry cost of a few seeds and bread crusts. Spend  $1.89  for suet and woodpeckers visit; last week, a northern flicker appeared – something I’d never seen before but hope to see again.

They squawk and squabble, they crowd each other out, but they are also grace incarnate. Birds are living symbols of faith, found in the pages of sacred writings throughout the world. The Spirit and peace – a dove. Wisdom an owl. Darkness a raven and death a crow. A cardinal is a messenger from God, or a departed loved one’s spirit. They connect this mundane life of ours to something soaring, something transcendent.

A Christmas card of birds is a reminder that the spiritual life is as real, as common, and as extraordinary as the flight of birds.

Thank you for sharing your card, Robin.

art, Meditation, observation

Mysterious, Mystic, Mundane

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If you take a close look, just right of the tree and above the glittery snow,  square figures emerge from the muted, misted background. Three rooftops, covered in snow. Just off the second and third boughs from the tree base, as if these two branches are pointing to it, is another square. Nestled against the dark green of background forest, it’s another building made by human hands. All these are too geometrically precise to be natural, and none of these are particularly impressive. But seen from this high vantage point, they show how ordinary human things are surrounded by beauty and clothed in misty mystery.

I think this is what meditation is about: seeing how our ordinary dwelling places, our ordinary lives, are part of something extraordinary and beautiful. In this God-related and God-created space, we live our lives. Unless we take the time and get some distance, we may miss the wondrousness of it all. The floor slushed by boots, the drafty cellar stairs, the walls and ceilings in need of a good scrubbing and painting. It’s so easy to believe that these are what is true and real. And they are real – just not definitive.

One does not and cannot cancel out the other. How extraordinary.

art, Meditation, observation

Worth the Effort?

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This card appears to be a reworked photograph; the background is muted as if wrapped in fog coming off the snow. The foreground tree and snow are covered in glitter-infused powder. I doubt my photo catches the sparkle of the snow on the ground and tree boughs – subtly made of blue, green, and palest pink glitter. It’s a wonderful rendering of something I’ve experienced many times: snow beauty.

But coming upon such a vista isn’t without effort. Snow shoes, skis, boots, and a willingness to leave the warmth of home and the plowed and sanded sidewalks are required. The cost includes cold nose and toes, tired legs, elevated heartbeat, and steaming breath. Is it worth it for a momentary glimpse of nature’s glory?

To find myself in the middle of breathtaking beauty. To see this old familiar world made new by a snowy prism blanket. To be reminded that adverse conditions bring gifts nothing else can.

Do I believe it’s worth the effort – this momentary glimpse of beauty? Absolutely. How about you?

 

 

art, Meditation, observation

Accident

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It’s a bit faded, but that’s to be expected after twenty three years. The message on the inside was just these handwritten words: Don’t know why we thought of you when we saw this card? I doubt Rick and Carol Lansill had any idea how much I’d enjoy it. It’s amazing how something so small, bought on a whim, could have such an impact.

It’s not just the humor I love, or the what I assume was a fashion photo repurposed. Or that it’s printed on recycled paper. Or that when dear friends saw someone plotting, I came to mind. It’s the notion that what might appear to be an accident might really be by design.

These days, this card comes to mind every morning, when I say this line of Philaret’s morning prayer: In unforeseen events, help me to remember that all things are sent by thee. 

I’m not one for ascribing to God every little thing, good or difficult, that happens to me. But as I get older, I am convinced that whatever comes my way has the potential to draw me closer to God, and to an even deeper sense of love and compassion for my neighbor. Most especially those things that appear accidental.

 

art, Biblical Reflection, Meditation, observation

A Light in the Window

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The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. John 1:9

From Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day, taking an evening stroll through my neighborhood is a joy. Christmas tree lights offer color and sparkle. Santas and snowmen – light-up, blow-up, and of the hard plastic variety – populate front yards. Wreaths and garlands hang on doors, illuminated by porch lights. And in the windows, candles.

Most of those things disappear within a few days of December giving way to January. But this year, the candles remain. As if by some spiritual consensus, the candles shine through window panes still, offering light in the darkness for whomever happens to pass by. These candles don’t offer light selectively, they illuminate the path for everyone and anyone.

What a simple, faithful truth these candles reveal: the true light is for everyone, no exceptions. You, me, and everyone else. If that isn’t a sure sign of hope and love, what is?

Meditation, observation

Vantage Point

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Yesterday, my son and I took a walk on a local Land Trust trail. Half a mile through the leafy trek, we found ourselves standing on one side of what used to be a train bridge. The bridge itself was nothing but a few re-barred pilings jutting out of a slow-moving stream. A trail sign informed us that we were on the remains of a passenger line that stopped carrying riders in 1953. Ahead of us, a straight tunnel through the pines with no visible end; behind us, the fallen pine needles a red carpet hallway stretching through the woods. We were standing in a one-point perspective painting incarnate.

When we looked right, marsh grass divided the stream, obscuring whatever lay beyond the immediate hundred yards. I195 spanned the water a hundred yards and a glance to the left. Cars flashed across the bridge, their drivers as unaware of this old train line as they were of our presence on it.

A short drive and a walk through the woods: a serene path, railroad history, marshland life, and modern transportation all visible from a single spot. This vantage point offered something unique, something that couldn’t be found anywhere else: the gift of being in a particular place, at a particular time, with a particular companion.

What a moment of grace and peace, offering strength to face these politically and pandemically challenging days.

 

Meditation, observation, Theology

Choose Your Words Carefully

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Unreality is the enemy of the spiritual life. Living in a false reality, denying what is – they rob us of the blessings that the present offers. They also make it difficult if not impossible to change the things that diminish life on this planet. When an individual chooses a false narrative, a lessening of the spirit is inevitable; when that false narrative becomes communal and is not challenged, the results can be tragic. Even deadly.

Yesterday, Donald Trump chose to incite violence because he could not and would not accept political defeat. He gave permission for his most radical followers to disrupt the peaceful transition of power and called it patriotism. A woman died – the dire consequence of unleashing powers no one can fully control.

This event didn’t just happen. Trump’s refusal to accept defeat, even after the many lawsuits and objections to the outcome had failed, was humored by too many who hold political power and media platforms. Now we know what harm it caused, and we will learn in the coming months how much harm it might continue to bring.

In a time when so many have died from a virus, we can’t afford to live in unreality. Our words matter, our actions matter, our willingness to accept reality matters. Let’s hope those with a microphone, a camera, a pen, and a voice choose them very carefully.

Lord, have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Advent2020, Biblical Reflection, Meditation, Prayer

OMG

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Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98; Hebrews 1:1-4 (5-12); John 1:1-14

The Word was first, the Word present to God, God present to the Word. The Word was God, in readiness for God from day one.

Everything was created through him; nothing – not one thing! – came into being without him. What came into existence was Life, and the Life was the Light to live by. The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out.

There once was a man, his name John, sent by God to point out the way to the Life-Light. He came to show everyone where to look, who to believe in. John was not himself the Light; he was there to show the way to the Light.

The Life-Light was the real thing: Every person entering Life he brings into the Light. He was in the world, the world was there through him, and yet the world didn’t even notice. He came to his own people, but they didn’t want him. But whoever did want him, who believed he was who he claimed, and would do what he said, he made to be their true selves, their child-of-God selves. These are the God-begotten, not blood-begotten, not flesh-begotten, not sex-begotten.

The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish. [The Message, John 1:1-14]

John 1: 14 And the Word became flesh and lived among us.
 
When I worked in San Antonio there were large billboards that had messages of faith prominently displayed along major highways. These billboards could be seen in various parts of the country and were rather thought-provoking. One I remember said “DON’T MAKE ME HAVE TO COME DOWN THERE!” and was signed “GOD”. I remember thinking, “well, I guess we did—thank you.”
These words in John’s prologue say it all. Eugene Peterson, in The Message, interprets this verse: “The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood”. How amazing and awesome is this!
This Word that was in the very beginning, which was with God, which was God, which created all things, is now here in our midst as one of us. Jesus has arrived and is living next door. May we invite him into our homes and welcome him into our hearts today. Oh, my God!
Offered by Bill Albritton, seeker of the Life-Light.
Advent2020, Biblical Reflection, Meditation

Children and Shepherds, Seeking Jesus

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Readings: Isaiah 62:6-12; Psalm 97; Titus 3:4-7; Luke 2:8-20

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven; and on earth peace among those  whom he favors!”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” [Luke 2:8-15, NRSV]

When I think of the Advent season,I go back to my roots.
I was born in a small rural village called Newbold,  just outside Rugby, Warwickshire, England. My sisters and I attended St. Botolph’s Sunday School in a small stone church similar to Christ Church. I’m sure that’s where we heard the Christmas story. We knew about the shepherds on a winter’s night listening and seeing the beautiful angels.
We went Christmas caroling and the one carol that I remember was Once in Royal David’s City stood a lowly cattle shed.  We were familiar with cattle sheds because the hillsides in our village had sheep and cows and cattle sheds. This is where the Christmas story came to life.
We could imagine the shining stars all about and one special star that guided the three kings to the cattle shed where Jesus was born. In that small village we could imagine shepherds on the hillsides with angels and bright stars. We were filled with anticipation, but not for presents and gifts.
When Christmas finally came we were filled  with the same excitement as the shepherds felt to see the Holy  Infant. We enjoyed home baked candy, cookies and cakes. We were very happy, filled with the Christmas spirit.
So Advent to me brings back warm feelings that I felt as a nine year old child. On a cold winter’s night I still enjoy the bright stars and I am still looking for that bright star which will lead me to Baby Jesus  and the true meaning of Christmas.
Offered by Anita Trottier, child of God bound for Bethlehem.
  [Holy Family,  by Margaret Hill]
Advent2020, Biblical Reflection, Meditation

Waiting Time

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Readings: Luke 1:46b-55; I Samuel 2:1-10; Mark 11:1-11

And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promises he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” [Luke 1:46b-55, NRSV]

It is a time of waiting. It seems to have been a time of waiting for a long time. Waiting for the ravages of the pandemic to cease. Waiting to be with people we know and love. Waiting to hug our grandchildren not just have a virtual chat with them. Waiting to let go of the fear. We wait for something to change, for things to get better.

When the waiting has gone on as long as this waiting has, it’s hard to hold on to hope. I think it was hard for Mary, too. She and other Jews had been waiting for the Messiah for a long time. So, to keep holding on to hope, Mary remembered. She remembered all that had happened, all that God has done. And in that remembering hope blossomed. And when hoped blossomed she was ready. Ready to join in the work of God.

It sometimes helps to sing our remembering. If that’s true for you, here’s a hymn that might help:

A Song of Praise (Tune: Hyfrydol, “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus”)

Now I lift my song of praises, God my soul does magnify.

Now I sing in great rejoicing, to God’s blessings testify.

For our God has looked with favor on the servant meek and low.

From now on all generations, blessing, honor will bestow.

God has shown great strength and power, brought the proud and might down,

Lifted up the lowly people as a sign that love abounds.

God has given to the hungry good things that they may be filled.

And the rich have been made empty, sent away their voices stilled.

Holy is God’s name forever, for our God has done great things.

Mercy comes to all who fear God, those who live the praise they sing.

God has helped the faithful servant, showing mercy, justice, love.

So forever we will serve God, lift our song of praise above.

May the faith we share together be a faith like Mary’s own.

May the life we live together prove our trust in God alone.

God of challenge and disruption, God whose ways our own confound,

May we celebrate and follow when the world’s turned upside down.

Offered by Jeff Jones, writer bound for Bethlehem.