Friday, April 8, 2011

When Lazarus Rose

Dear Urban Abbey Members & Friends: The poem below by Steve Garnaas-Holmes really got me thinking about my morning routine. As I'm getting older, I can certainly relate to Steve's poem. As I lay in bed in the mornings in that twilight area between sleep and waking, I can start to feel the aching muscle in my lower back or the bit of arthritis in my elbow. It would certainly be more comfortable to stay there lying still rather than getting up to greet the new day and get aching muscles and joints in action. That in a sense is renewal, a commitment to meet the new day. In the more figurative sense, I find that twilight time between sleep and waking something akin to the veil between life and death (new life). In those moments, I can be more open to God's presence and loving embrace. The challenge for me is to remember that Presence as I become fully awake and use that as a call to renewal -- that I try to become a conduit for that love and reconciliation itno the world around me.

Shalom and blessings, George

---------- Forwarded message ----------
Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.

When Lazarus heard his name
he took a sudden breath.
With visceral trembling
blood resurged. But then,
as when awakening some days,
he lay a moment, mired, reluctant to rise
from the familiar swaddling of his death.
Rising, even more than dying,
there could be no return:
for if he chose to stand,
all he knew would then be lost.

And still now every morning,
each momentary wish for healing is a risk,
a wakening call to change, to choose,
to leave so much behind,
and be again made new.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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