Tag Archives: spirituality

Can all things be made new?

By Posted in Lectio Divina Ponderings, Poetry Tagged , , , , Leave a comment
an image of trees reflecting in the water at sunset. with the text of Revelation 21:1-6
What if we let
everything be made new?

What if we stopped holding
so tightly to all that has
come before?

What if we made space
for the divine to dwell
	with us
	within us
	around us
	beside us
	underneath us
	over us?

What if we let
ourselves be made new?

Can we even imagine
that might be
possible?

Because what if it is?

Decided to go back and take a look at things I’ve written during the contemplative spirituality group I’m part of on Monday nights and see what might be ready to find its way out of my notebook. This one was started during Lectio Divina using Revelation 21:1-6 back in July 2023.

Sacred Space

By Posted in Poetry Tagged , , , , Leave a comment
Photo of Derek Webb wearing a white tshirt and black jeans playing his guitar during concert in a chuch. There is a stained glass window behind him and the backs of two concert goers in the foreground
Photo by karencee – Derek Webb’s It All Matters After All concert in Tacoma, WA at Urban Grace Church.
Words and notes joined together
Ligaments and tendons
Building bonds of connection 
Creating community

Communal rhythm 
In breath, in body, in voice
Bridging the past with the now 
Creating harmonies for this moment

Stories shared 
Laughter and life on full display
Reinterpreting well-loved songs
Creating new layers of memory

Gathered together
To listen and experience
Remembering or living the first time
Creating sacred space

Maybe hope
doesn't just whisper
after all

It’s been a while since I’ve been to an unfamiliar church for a concert by a singer/songwriter whose music plays such a integral role in the soundtrack of my life.

With many thanks to Derek Webb. Music has always been part of how I make sense of my world and my faith. As much as I hoped that wasn’t lost forever, it seemed likely that it was until I discovered your music. Thank you for being a complicated person and giving voice to the complexity of life and faith.

Ash Wednesday

By Posted in Poetry Tagged , , , Leave a comment 
time to pause
to reflect
to remember

we are dust
to dust
we shall return

but not
just dust
beloved dust
dust of stars
dust holding
Imago Dei

to be dust
is not what
once was believed
unworthy
sinful from birth
beyond hope
cause of a son's death

we are dust
to dust
we shall return

dust of creation
dust breathed
into life
dust given hands
and feet
dust declared
very good
dust that birthed
the incarnate one

Through Christ …

By Posted in Poetry Tagged , , , , Leave a comment 
What if we could see the older woman
clearly not having had an easy life
probably unhoused
quietly sitting at the back of the church
when she asked about a washroom
as someone who needed to pee
not as someone looking for a place to use

maybe she was
self-medicating might feel like her only option
but maybe she only wanted
a safe, warm, private place to pee
with dignity

What if we could be see the tents
outside our doors
be angry at the systems
that lead to people being unhoused
fight for justice and change
rather than being
angry at and afraid of
those seeking to survive
finding a place of shelter
outside our Walking Together Chapel
on land we may own
but that is not ours

What if we could see ...
see our neighbourhood through Christ ...
not figuratively ...
but literally?

What if rather than rose-coloured glasses
we saw through Christ-coloured glasses?
what if we asked not
what would Jesus do
but
What and who would Christ see in ...

How would Christ feel about ...
the city around us?
the people we encounter?
What would that look like?
What would we do differently?
How would our lives and
our neighbourhood 
be transformed?
Photo of an etched glass window with an image of Christ on the cross looking through to Mason St in Victoria, BC. There is a yellow tent in visible outside the window.
Photo taken by Karencee of the Christ Crucified window (artist: Lutz Haufschild) in the Walking Together Chapel at the Anglican Church of St. John the Divine, Victoria, BC.

What if …

By Posted in Poetry Tagged , , , , , Leave a comment 
What if...

I gave myself permission ...
  to truly rest
  to stop striving
  to accept I am enough?

The world wouldn't end
  Life would continue
    I would still be loved

What if ...

I gave myself permission ...
  to sit in silence
  to be still
  to breathe?

The world wouldn't cease turning
  Sounds would continue
    I would still be enough

What if ...

I gave myself permission ...
  to savour each moment
  to revel in the joy
  to embrace the sorrow?

The world would continue on
  Life would still happen
    I would be able to sit with those things

What if ...

I gave myself permission ...
  to fully be who I am created to be
  to embrace my idiosyncracies
  to express the depth of my queerness?

The world would still have space for me
  Life would be richer
    I would continue to find those who see me

With thanks to Alejandro, TJ, Sarah and Josh for creating and facilitating the beautiful online contemplative spirituality retreat – Sacred Rest: An Invitation to Sabbath and Renewal – where I had space to ask these questions.

Thanks as well to Joanna for ensuring the tech ran smoothly and didn’t become a distraction.

Thank you as well to the other participants. I don’t know whether any of you are likely to see this, but I’m glad all of us had this opportunity to rest together.

Goodbye GLBG (Good Little Baptist Girl)

By Posted in Life Lessons, Poetry, Written a long time ago Tagged , , , , Leave a comment 
once upon a time I knew
Child of God
Created in His image
Christian
Believer

or at least
I acted like I knew

I did believe
I wanted to believe
I was scared if I didn’t believe

The GLBG
“Good Little Baptist Girl”
was what I knew

all I knew how to be
all I thought
I should be

but The GLBG
was always afraid
what if someone finds out?

what if someone realizes
The GLBG doesn’t
read her Bible
or pray
everyday
or even
every week

what if someone discovers
The GLBG would rather do
anything other than
pray out loud
in a group

what if someone discerns
The GLBG doesn’t believe quite
as hard as they do
or that the GLBG can’t
just take it on faith
because the bible
or the church
or the pastor
says it is so

The GLBG always knew
if she were known
she would be cast out
adrift
cut off
unwanted
unloved
because she was never
enough

Not good enough
Not spiritual enough
Not … something she didn’t even have words for …
enough

The GLBG knew if anyone
God included
looked deep enough
she would be found out

The GLBG hung on to faith
for as long as she could
she hid her GLBG heritage
and tried to live into
the faith she claimed
with freedom
and compassion
and grace

but eventually
she failed

even freedom
compassion
and grace are not enough
when you don’t actually believe
they could ever apply
to you
 
so I left
I wandered
I explored
I listened

eventually
I found words
for what was deep inside

I cried
I raged
I hated
I loved
I listened some more

The GLBG
slipped away
I learned
not to be afraid
not to hide

Goodbye GLBG
I don’t need you anymore
I am enough

unexpectedly
my path wandered back
I didn’t plan it
I tried to avoid it
but I found myself
at home in a church
where I am not afraid
where I hear words from the pulpit
that assure me of
unconditional love
grace
acceptance
as I am

a queer person
of faith
who doesn’t really know
what she believes
but does know
that if god
by whatever name you call
is to be found
they

(singular or plural
you choose
but definitely
non-gender specific)

they will be found
in the depths
in the darkness
in the margins
in the hopeless
in the lost
in the wanderers

Originally published on my old blog in January 2017 as my entry in that year’s Queer Theology Synchroblog on the theme of “Identity”

What do I mean …

By Posted in Lectio Divina Ponderings, Poetry Tagged , , , 1 Comment 
What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
It means that in my heart, and maybe physically,
I've lit a candle and quietly spoken your name
in the presence of the divine, whatever that might mean to you or me

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
Not what I meant when faith was certain
when I was sure I knew God's heart
or at least wanted you to believe I did

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
It means I am seeking light for you
that when it is dark there will be a glimmer
the tiniest spark to lead you on your path

What do I mean when I say I'm praying for you?
Not what I meant when prayer was used as a weapon
to judge and shame and convict without compassion
when prayer was a way to sanctify gossip

What do I meant when I say I'm praying for you?
It means an offer of love and support 
as unconditional as I know how to give
so we both know we are not alone on the journey

I’ve been thinking a lot about what prayer means to me now that faith is both less certain and yet deeper and richer. Similarly, prayer is now both more and less than it once was.

Finding light in the darkness

By Posted in Lectio Divina Ponderings, Poetry Tagged , , , , , Leave a comment 
it looks different now
in part because I know its name
which makes it both harder and easier
in a way I don't know how to navigate
but I've found my way out of darkness before

the darkness of the closet
the darkness of shame
the darkness of grief
the darkness of depression

I've found the window of light
the one I worked so hard to recognize before
it's still there, I've just lost track of it
the darkness didn't extinguish it then
the darkness hasn't consumed it now

the hard-earned light of past travail
sometimes that's the window of light to surprise you
sometimes that's a crack "that's how the light gets in"
sometimes that's what motivates you 
"to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight"
sometimes that's what reminds you the pain now won't be for 
evermore

It’s Monday night … tonight’s context for this writing during our Lectio Divina practice was Taylor Swift’s song Evermore and John O’Donohue’s blessing “For Suffering” and also the discussion that happened as we shared what we had heard in our listening that drew connections deeper and richer than I had heard on my own. I am so grateful for this community.

And yes, I’m also grateful for Canadian poet-songwriters Leonard Cohen and Bruce Cockburn.

Image of a sunset at the horizon, with white text superimposed. Text: For Suffering by John O'Donohue May you be blessed in the holy names of those Who, without you knowing it, Help to carry and lighten your pain. May you know serenity When you are called To enter the house of suffering. May a window of light always surprise you. May you be granted the wisdom To avoid false resistance; When suffering knocks on the door of your life, May you glimpse its eventual gifts. May you be able to receive the fruits of suffering. May memory bless and protect you With the hard-earned light of past travail; To remind you that you have survived before And though the darkness now is deep, You will soon see the approaching light. May the grace of time heal your wounds. May you know that though the storm might rage, Not a hair of your head will be harmed.
Image created by Matt Nightingale

Faith without doubt … isn’t faith

By Posted in Poetry Tagged , , , , 1 Comment 
I remember when I wanted proof
Proof that God exists
Proof that the flood happened
Proof that Jericho's walls fell
Proof that Jesus was crucified
Proof that Jesus rose from the dead
Proof that the Jesus in scripture was historically accurate
     (I literally wrote a paper on that once upon a time)
Proof that I had been saved
Proof that I would not be damned to hell
Proof that God had called me to ministry
Proof that what I believed in faith
Was truth beyond a reasonable doubt

Until I didn't want it anymore
Until I had to let it go because I couldn't stay
Until I knew I would lose the very thing
I was holding so tightly in my clenched fists
Until I had to leave

So I threw it away
Walked deliberately far from everything 
The community where I knew how to seem like I belonged
What answers to give to show my faith
What beliefs had shaped my thinking
What boundaries had formed my world
Gone tossed aside

And chose to recreate my world
One story at a time
One belief at a time
One relationship at a time

Nowadays they call it deconstructing
I suppose that works
Except it looked more like a bulldozer
Until it didn't
Until suddenly I found myself drawn in

Drawn in to a faith which required 
No contortions of mind to create certainty
No proof just relationship
Just acceptance of being beloved
No right answers just questions
Just exploring what love looks like lived out

My fists ... unclenched
My heart ... open to learn
My beliefs ... held lightly
Because it's not about proof
It was never meant to be
It was always about faith

And faith cannot exist 
without the option for doubt

A thread from the Rev. Daniel Brereton got me thinking about how I used to want proof for what I believed. Screenshots below of that thread and his original tweet that led to the thread.

Oh, there’s also a link to the old blog that I kept during that time when I had thrown things away. I’m not really sure what to do with that space any more, but it’s still there and maybe those stories are still helpful to someone else, if you want to browse around.

i saw Jesus in him

By Posted in Poetry Tagged , , , Leave a comment 
i don't know his name
i've not seen him before or since
he arrived silently
backpack on his shoulders

tentative steps
looking around to see if
his presence would be allowed

he walked quietly
not tiptoeing but with no sound
he looked deeply 
seeming enchanted 
by stained glass windows

full circle
 around
then he arrived 
at the foot of the cross
he stood in silence

"Father, forgive them
for they know not
what they do."

he remained standing 
transfixed
as a poem began to be read
he sat for a moment
before he continued
exploring the part he had
not yet seen

he left on still silent feet
but paused again
at the foot of the cross
marked himself 
with the familiar sign
and continued on his way

some might have questioned
did he belong
but i know who i saw that day
a neighbour seeking
and i saw Jesus in him
A photo of a rough wooden cross set up on the dias in front of a wooden altar in an Anglican church. There is a trio of stained glass windows behind and organ pipes visible on either side.

Written on Good Friday 2023, during our time of meditation on the seven last words from the cross. I was tempted to take a photo, but even from the back, his coat was distinctive. Instead I wrote these words to ensure I would remember.

Photo credit: karencee (c) 2021