Blessed

“Blessed” is my statement of faith
and “Blessed” is my thanksgiving.

Blessed by the mystery when God is hidden
and blessed to be ever within God’s sight.

Blessed to walk this twisting path
and blessed to fall upon the Rock.

Blessed to wait for the Spirit
and blessed in the seeking.

Blessed to be hungry for God
and blessed to be sustained.

Blessed for the 2am fear and longing,
and blessed in the morn’s dawning.

Ah, holy God, bless my wrestling and my resting;
multiply my faith and my thanksgiving
so that you too are blessed.

Full

Usually I ask you to fill me up,
to pour over me,
to satisfy my thirst
and
saturate my spirit,
to infiltrate and permeate my life,
to top off my cup
and run over.
But these days I’m already full.
Way too full.
Maxed out,
loaded,
gorged even,
topped off
with so much
of my own stuff that
— even when I come to you —
there isn’t room.
Help.
Drain me.
Empty me.
Break the dams.
Clear me out of myself.
Rend wide open a holy void
(and while you’re working
on emptying me,
probably add
a good scolding
for how I keep
holding onto crap
that isn’t you
and isn’t really me either).
I sooo need you, but
there hasn’t been room.
Clear out the fullness.
Make room
for you.

Across The Water

Let the storm be stilled of all its raging
so my praise might echo clearly across the water.

For God has guided me thus far;
God’s love and grace have been unfailing.
When the waves mounted impossibly,
the LORD of Life did not let me drown.
Every time the wind drove me in new directions,
the God of the sparrow did not lose track of me.

Let the storm be stilled of all its raging
so my praise might echo clearly across the water.

For God commanded the chaos to yield a harvest
and called the depths to reveal their hidden beauty.
No matter the tempest’s threats of violence,
no matter the wild spinning of the compass,
God’s Spirit whispered — “Peace, peace” —
and there was my haven, right there.

Let the storm be stilled of all its raging
so my praise might echo clearly across the water.

All Saints Day

I give Thee thanks
for saints and souls.
Let my tears be accompanied
by a chorus of Hallelujahs.

For saints and souls
like the man with white hair, a farm,
and a joyful banjo
who left a legacy of faith;

for saints and souls
like the woman with healing hands
and a gentle mothering spirit
who showed extravagant caring;

for saints and souls
like the wisecracking salesman
and his hardworking love
whose heart overflowed to each generation;

for saints and souls
like the blues man of God
and his brilliance
who demonstrated holy wrestling.

I give Thee thanks
for saints and souls.
Let my tears be accompanied
by a chorus of Hallelujahs.