Blog
Good to Be Seen
Then Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy elders went up the mountain, and they saw the God of Israel. Under God’s feet there was something like a sapphire pavement, as clear and blue as the heavens. They beheld God, and they ate and drank. – Exodus 24:9-11 (adapted)
“It’s good to see you!”
The familiar greeting circulates through our gatherings when it’s been too long since we’ve been in the same place together. Annual conferences. Professional conventions. Family holidays. Happy hour with friends.
I often receive this greeting at church on Sunday mornings. Worship wayfarer that I am, it’s rare for me to attend a service in the same place on consecutive Sundays. So when my body and spirit come together in a pew, the greetings are plentiful:
“It’s good to see you!”
Somewhere along the way, I picked up the response: “It’s good to be seen!”
And it is good—so very good and soul-nourishing—when someone lights up to see you, calls you by name, lets you know that they notice your presence. That in this moment, even if not again for a while, the delight of being together is good and holy.
As good to the soul as a meal is to the body. As beautiful as sapphire pavement. As holy as sitting in the presence of God.
“It’s good to see you!”
“It’s good to be seen!” Because we’re not always fully noticed or beheld with joy. In our day-to-day routines, we too easily become part of life’s scenery to each other—more like characters and backgrounds in life’s drama, less like the delightful God-reflections we all are.
But in the presence of God, we are invited to behold, to pause our rushing and appreciate the living miracles with whom we share space each day.
Prayer: How good and pleasant it is, O God, to be known by you and by one another! It is like oil anointing the head, like rain washing the face, like bread satisfying the stomach.
cross-posted with the Daily Devotional
Let There Be No Dew or Rain
David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan: “How the mighty have fallen! You mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew or rain upon you, nor bounteous fields! For there the shield of the mighty was defiled, anointed with oil no more.” – 2 Samuel 1:17-21, abridged (NRSV)
For a while now I’ve been thinking about getting a dog. Preferably a big, fluffy, slobbery dog. I grew up in the company of pets—dogs, cats, the occasional bird—and it would be nice to form such a bond again.
But I’ve been hesitant, not quite ready to commit to pet adoption.
When people ask why I don’t have a dog, I use poop as an excuse. Big dogs have big poop, and I live in the suburbs where picking up after one’s dog is an important part of being neighborly. There is zero appeal to the task of handling dog poop through a plastic baggy.
If I’m honest, however, for me there’s a bigger stumbling block than poop:
Grief.
To adopt a dog, to care for a dog, to share life and time with a dog, to love a dog, is to accept in advance that your love will know grief when that dog dies. It’s to accept in advance that fields and sidewalks and parks will break your heart with their fond reminder of dog walks. It’s to accept in advance that you will resent, sometimes, the mountain’s joy in receiving the rain and the sunflower’s delight in waking up to fresh dew—because how can the earth be so audacious in its pleasures at a time when your heart is grieving? How can the stars shine and the ocean sway while love aches?
I can easily embrace the idea of loving a pet. I’m hesitant to accept the certainty of grieving a pet. How much more did David grieve the deaths of Saul and Jonathan?
And how much love do I miss out on when I try to shield myself from heartache?
Prayer: Would that love was gentle and painless, O God! Nevertheless, break my heart wide open.
cross-posted with the Daily Devotional
Psalm of Job
From dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn, O God guide our breaths, our lives, our loves. We are fragile and frail, O Eternal Glory. We are so full of pride that we downplay our faults, and so full of faults that we downplay our possibilities. What is the sky to a speck of...
The Eve before the New
Do not ask us to turn back, O Mother,or to return to what has been;although there is beauty in the past,we cannot remain therenor do we wish to relivethe milestones of pain and grief thatbrought us from the past to this day. Do not ask us to go back, O Mother,where...
Peace
Peace to your path, winding into the night; peace to your path, moving toward the light. Peace to your fear as it tramples the adder; peace to your fear when love makes it shatter. Peace to your prayers, crying out for comfort; peace to your prayers and the heart from...
Joy in the Morning
Which of you desires life, and covets many days to enjoy good? O taste and see that the Lord is good. - Psalm 34:12 & 8a (NRSV) The sounds of rain on the pavement and wind through the trees outside my window wake me up. The sun is content to bide its time this...
Forsaken
Consider, O God, those pounding at the door for your justice, for your steadfast love, for your deliverance. Will you not answer? We are fainting on your front porch, weary with grief. Can you not spare a cup of mercy? In your house is peace; will you not let us in?...
Sunset
Now I lay me down to sleep.I pray the sun's rays not to weepor linger o'er our earthly achesbut whisper "peace" as stars awake. Now to rest in awe of night,to wonder as celestial heightssing lullabies of mysterythat put our turbulence at ease. And now to trust within...
For What?
What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. - Ecclesiastes 1:3-4 (NRSV) If the writer was discouraged about the purpose of toil in ancient times, how much more now?...
Arise and Come Away
From greed, from vanity, from despair, from doubt, come away, o my soul. Arise and come away. From apathy, from anger, from mistrust, from fear, come away, o my soul. Arise and come away. Breathe in love, breathe out peace. Notice life as it touches your skin. Arise...
Cloudy
There are days when I do not mind your mystery, O Holy One, and days when I can even declare it to be the good news. But, oh! What I really want is for your cloudiness to clear, for your words to distill themselves distinctly, simply, for your history to guarantee my...
