What Name Do You Call?

Clouds at sunset
once i called you Jesus
with that word, i could relate to you
safe, knowable
baby in a manager
willing sacrifice
Spirit seemed so far away
untouchable, distant
Father was the angry god
i could never hope to satisfy

one day i wished more for mystery
a god i could not contain
Spirit became the name i called
ever-present, intimately intertwined
yet other in every possible way
Jesus, still when comfort needed
but Father rarely spoken
afraid i’d disappoint

in wonder i remember
moment of discovery
the day i learned to call you Father
arms open, reaching out to embrace
holding me close in love
unashamed of how broken i felt
Father offering everything i lacked
three-in-one, i knew you then
knowable mystery accepting
me in love

those words now leave me tangled
web of hurt, anger, bitterness
i try to call your name
but my voice will not speak
those words i once used
my heart contracts
the walls close in
once familiar names
my life no longer knows you
the face i see reflected
lacks truth of who you are
of who i am in you
i need a new word
but who am i to name
the source of all creation

each day i sit in silence
whispering a single word
seeking, trying to find the one
that encompasses and draws us together
Ruah, Breath, i seek to draw you in
Creator, most easily recognized
your handiwork surrounds me
i sit with you in stillness
but still you feel unknown
i breathe
inhale, exhale
pause, repeat
in the space carved out
my heart feels a new name
so clear the word seems spoken in my ear

Beloved

i pause, my breath held close
Beloved, name and invitation
in one simple word
i cannot comprehend
you call me Beloved
at the core of my being
you invite me to intimacy
to be yours
to call you my own
Beloved you are all i have known
more than i can yet comprehend
reminder of the beauty
i have let slip away
lost in waves of anger and pain
Beloved offers comfort, understanding
growth to some thing more
Beloved demands no striving
offers rest and ease
encouragement to grow deeper
bolder, stronger
Beloved knows
I am enough
sunlight on the water

Written in September 2012 and previously published on blog I had then, several years after I’d walked away from church (but clearly not faith) and several years before I’d figured out I was queer.

Today, a conversation with a friend about the phrase he often uses in prayer “the God of so many names” made me of think it. Reading it again before sharing it with that friend reminded me of a truth I’d known but have allowed to get buried.

And yet … (Maundy Thursday 2017)

The altar stripped bare
each piece carefully and thoughtfully removed
layers peeled away
harsh, barren surfaces
and yet ...

The light dimmed
The sanctuary in near darkness
and yet ...

I cannot look away
I long to stand up
to walk out the door
to return to the life
I'd chosen away from
all of this
and yet ...

As my soul is stripped bare
tears of anger and bitterness
of regret and heartbreak
stream slowly down my cheeks
and yet ...

I cannot look away
I long to stay and never leave
this moment
and yet ...

I've never felt so broken
and yet so completely whole
so lost beyond hope
and yet so relentlessly found
so without a single word to speak
and yet so full of truth undeniable
a mainly black and white photo of the front of the sanctuary at St. John the Divine Anglican Church. 
There are three dark arched windows. There is some light illuminating a shrouded cross. All other furnishings have been removed from the altar below.
Photo credit: Karen C – Maundy Thursday at St. John the Divine Anglican Church

I wrote this in on Maundy Thursday in 2017 and first shared it on the blog I had on Maundy Thursday in 2018.