The laundry seems eternal:
another load of whites
another load of darks
piled high in anticipation
of a soapy wash cycle.
I sigh over the never-ending
presence of my laundry,
constant need for attention
. . . . . . .
and then a chuckle
a roll of laughter as I realize
that you, O my God, are in fact
a Holy Pile of Laundry
eternally present
and ever calling!

(To complete the Holy Trinity
and my playful unorthodoxy:
is Jesus then
the Cleansing Washer
and the Spirit
a Tumble of Hot Air?)

Not Enough Time

Modern American life has conflated the end of time — that is, the eschaton — with everyday time. We are living each day in a panic as though it is the last day. We are scurrying through each hour as though it is the only hour for work or rest or play or relationships…or all of them at once! We experience each moment as though it is a deadline, an end, a final chance for productivity.

We are not waiting for The End Of Time to live at the end of time.

The primary challenge of this chronological and ontological fusion is the loss of perspective. For people of faith, in particular, it is the loss of joyful perspective.

Continue reading my article in Huffington Post’s Religion section…

Sunday Prayer

If you’re willing to tolerate a cheesy 80s song, O LORD, I pray:

Love, lift us up.

Lift us up to be with you,
for we are longing for the reassurance
of your presence in our lives.

Lift us up to be with you,
because we need the courage
to live boldly as your witnesses.

Love, lift us up to be with you,
because the world is dying for your wisdom
to bring about reconciliation in the world.

Lift us up to be with you,
for the markets claw at our souls
and the powers-that-be threaten us into despair.

Lift us up to be with you,
where fire and lightening burst with praise
and Light chases the shadows into submission.

Holy Love, lift us up!

Cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals.


Peace to your broken heart,
and peace to mine.
Here in the holiness of flesh
that is necessarily
torn & bleeding,
I weep with you,
my dear, because it is
the only gift I have to offer.
I break with you
in longing for hope & delight,
in recognition of pain
beyond understanding,
in hope for healing
beyond reach.
Peace to our broken hearts
as we walk together,
feet bloodied & calloused
by this life.

Sunday Prayer

Gracious God, Beautiful Light,
with the whole host of heaven
we declare your goodness!
We lean on your steadfast love
as we plead: come and help us.
We are scrambling for peace
but finding chaos,
searching for blessing
but overwhelmed by trouble.
Interrupt our worries with a vision
of purpose and delight.
Lead us to the waters of healing
amidst the work of our days,
throughout our rest,
and in our dreaming.
Open our hearts to know
your presence among us
and in each person we meet.
Bless us, to your glory we pray. Amen.

(cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals)