7:49 PM

Aaaand the retreat begins.

First there must be

a withdrawal from all

to which I have become

accustomed and addicted, including:

* responding to others' needs

* writing to speak to those needs

* sucking worth out of those responses

There's a crow in a tree

about 100 feet from the front window.

He's been calling for the past hour,

as I finished some work.

As soon as I settled,

he stopped. I'm pretty sure

that's God, patiently, plaintively cawing.

Now I hear the dogs (coyotes?)

begin their sunset song.

But only for a few minutes.

Then a sacred silence floats in.

The trees dance their green at me,

as the wind pulses its ever-erratic rhythm

through their nimble extremities.

The sky's once-dense rain-fog

returns to a steamy afternoon blue,

only to succumb to dusk's pink ribbons.

As the colors fade into evening's gray,

the lightning bugs begin their survival-flash,

conjuring progeny into the fading light.

All through the dimming,

I hear the wind say - for the first time

since I-don't-know-when -

"I sing this song for you every day,

not for you to YouTube it

for someone else, but for your pleasure;

for no other purpose than

your soaking-up the unconditionality

of my grace poured

into evening's sky for pure joy."

Surely but steadily, all of the ego

and pettiness with which my world

has been surrounded begin

to fade with the sun's sinking.

The stillness of holy darkness

gently blows her peace

through the open screens.

I know that I could breathe

like this forever.

Maybe I will.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

2 Prayers for Worship

Invocation

We know, O God, that a prayer of invocation is not a talisman or spell to conjure you into the sanctuary. We understand that we don’t need to do that, because you are not only already here, you are always everywhere.

Let this prayer of invocation, then, be an invitation for us to settle ourselves and focus our attention on all of the ways your presence transforms our circumstances in, through, and beyond worship. Let us be aware of your presence, both in this hour and in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Illumination

Photo by Fran Curtis Allison Young

It seems strange to pray for light, O Lord, in a room that is already full of light from multiple sources. It may even seem silly to light candles in the presence of so many lumens. But we do it anyway, recognizing that it is our hearts and our spirits that need to be able to see; and you, O God, are the only one who can light those candles. Open our hearts and minds to the light of your promise, as we read and participate in your story today. Let us find our own story in yours and in each other’s, so we may find hope and be lifted above our distress, into the peace of your presence; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Same

The power of love and pain

share the same root.

They are not opposites

or even opposite sides

of the same coin,

but branches on the same tree.

It is the tree of Life,

and cannot be climbed

without grasping and

standing on all the branches.

Life itself is wrapped in pain.

Avoidance of the latter not only

steers clear of love, it is the road

to never having lived at all.

Love and pain make the endurance

of one another possible,

but also the transformative hope

of each other available.

Pain is the story that teaches us

what it's like to reach into the deep places

we'd have missed otherwise.

Love is the redemptive healing

drawing us out of our own aching caves

into the sacred wells of others.

 

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Deeps

A flat-bottom boat

on a glassy sea;

yes, that's the life

I so long to see.

Skimming across

both the deep and shallow,

leaving my faith

to rest in the fallow.

What's this you say?

There's a storm in the air?

How could you abandon me?!

How could you not care?!

As the waves overcome,

tossing life to and fro,

my questions pile up;

so much I don't know!

The boat I was on

isn't shaped like I dreamed;

its hull Vs into the water

much deeper than it seemed.

Where once I sought answers

to questions I could bear,

now I'm thrown overboard,

life torn, open and bare.

In over my head,

too far from the shore,

not sure I can handle

one gut-kick more.

Holding my breath

beyond human tears,

daring not to exhale,

overcome by my fears.

Like Job, I won't settle

for clichéd replies.

Keep your sacharined Jesus;

I've shredded those lies.

I need a companion

who'll sit on the floor,

cry with me a while,

then cry with me some more.

We'll shout toward the heavens,

let loose our hot rage;

then rest in the bosom

of the One without age.

And when this rock sinks

to the floor of the sea,

we'll breathe underwater,

we'll sing joyfully;

not because we have answers,

not because we've no pain,

but because we've found breath

in God's presence again.

 

Photo by Holly Jenkins

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Left the Building

Elvis did it, and folks

have been talking about it

and looking for him ever since.

Expectation, hope, and energy

give imaginations wanderlust

as the next sighting is anticipated.

As followers of the risen Christ 

passed faith's torch to generations,

the Greek name "ecclesia" stuck:

church, or "the called-out ones".

Now, we casually use that noun

to describe architectural structures,

sometimes forgetting the body

of people whom messiah calls out.

Give us hearts and ears, O God,

to answer, so it may once again

be said and seen in word and deed,

"The church has left the building!"

Hitting the Streets

 Living Missionally

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Meeting

Where will you go to meet

the God of all creation?

The 139th psalmist declares

that there is no place you can go,

no place you can stay

where God has not already been

and where God is not currently present.

John's gospel prologue invites you

to experience the Word incarnate.

In the flesh and the neighborhood

are the places where divine self

shines through time and space.

New question: What will you do,

today, to pay attention to more

of the places and ways that God

is hanging, helping, and hoping

the universe into the sacred garment

of love, the holy gift of grace?

 

Detroit Riverwalk, PCUSA General Assembly 221

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Deliver Us, O Lord...

... from theological inbreeding

that seeks to convince us

that mirrored spiritual reflections

of ourselves are what will bring

peace and contentment

to our churches and

will usher your kingdom

into and onto the earth.

... from intellectual entrenchment

that would have us believe

that there is an educational and

understanding finish line

to which we are close.

... from cultural xenophobia

that squeezes fear's adrenal gland,

blinding us to the joy and gift

of creation's wonderful diversity.

... from Mammon's addiction

that disorients our passion receptors

and anesthetizes our hearts

so that we believe

it is both possible and appropriate

to love things and possess people.

... from all else that would

separate us from the grace

of your unconditional love.

Photo from PCUSA General Assembly 221 Exhibit Hall

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Spirited

As one committee debates

the finer points of polity,

wrangling over how to provide

balance in the perspectives

presented on its overtures,

spirited singing wafts through

the temporary walls defining parameters

of the committee meeting

in the adjacent room.

Order and Ardor continue

their essential primordial dance,

partnering to keep Chaos at bay

without strangling divine Breeze.

Lord, give us grounding

in the midst of Hurricane Angst;

also give our luggage greased wheels

and smooth zippers as we face

our rotting branches and hollow trunks.

 

Photo by Todd Jenkins

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

These 3

(for Joanie Lukins, Helen Morrison, and Joyce Shin)

Faith, Hope, and Love, yes;

but also faces, stories, lives;

Joanie, Helen, Joyce.

For the prophet voices,

full of bold compassion,

eyes afire with Justice's glow,

give us courage to heed

and follow Spirit poured

upon these three and more.

May we be emboldened,

catching their visions,

dreaming their dreams,

living toward the day

when teaching isn't needed;

grace will flow from every well.

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Rise

The worship bulletin indicates

instructions for its asterisks:

*Please rise in body or Spirit.

How many times have I

perfunctorily executed the former,

completely oblivious to the call

and possibility of the latter?

Whether or not you gift my body

with strength, flexibility, and

balance to stand in worship,

let me never miss your

gathering invitation to be Spirited;

to stretch and expand

the vertical pathway for your breath,

that I may expire all

that clouds and constricts,

and inspire your living hope.

Photo by Jennie R. Jenkins

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Carpe Noctem

Photo by Todd Jenkins

Night is not just a part

of the universe's regular cycle.

It's also a part of every life;

the part that often derails

our portfolio and life-reckoning.

On our own, as social

and religious organizations,

we usually develop a two-fold plan:

(1) Escape; or

(2) Carry a big torch.

What if it's the place we're meant

to enter into more deeply,

sans artificial illumination,

not as punishment or divine indifference,

but because its pall

awakens anesthetized senses

and slows us to feel our way

more deeply into purpose and hope?

Would you tentatively step,

reach out a probing hand,

risk your little knowing

for an invitation to be held

in infinite mystery's embrace?

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Surprise

I'm sure the Holy Spirit gifts us

with coincidences that confirm and support

what we were already thinking

and wanting to do.

I'm also sure she regularly

shows up to challenge

our assumptions and convictions.

The one of these arrivals to which

we are most receptive and attuned

depends on our primary source

of hope and the degree to which we view

faith as arrival or journey.

True surprise comes, welcome or not,

when her light reveals glimpses

of our shadow selves,

daring us to rethink sacred maps.

Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Flinging It

I watched one vehicle turn left,

nearly into the path of another.

It wasn't so much a near-miss,

as the airlines have coined it,

as it was an opportunity

for something to go wrong.

Rather than instinctively braking

to remedy the situation,

the oncoming driver threw her left hand

out her window, curling it

over the roof of her car,

and flung her middle finger

toward the now-missed

(no thanks to her),

already-turned truck.

No horn, no scream,

just the central projectile

from her manual five-shooter.

She looked like a cowgirl

in a 1950s B-movie, slinging bullets

toward the bad guys.

Is this what our society has come to –

rage on-demand, against anyone

who dares to make choices

that might inconvenience or impede us?

Grace, O Grace, to where has

your gift been exiled?

 

Photo by Todd Jenkins

© 2014 Todd Jenkins

Written

Roads are meant

to be traveled;

journeys, prayed.

It's not just the body,

or even the mind

that traverses these

deeper paths; it is

also the narratives and

all their characters.

There is but one storyteller

who speaks the truth

of who we are into existence,

chapter after chapter.

Creation is a love story

and we are all tiny couplets

of hope in each day's unfolding.

 

Photo by Todd Jenkins

We do not know when

the story will reach its conclusion,

or have any idea how,

but we've been this author's characters

long enough to recognize

that mercy is the plot

and grace the final crescendo.

Write on!

© 2014 Todd Jenkins