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Breathing through my hands
Jesus said, “The Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.” – From Matthew 20
Outside the bird feeders are empty. Only one of our several semi-resident squirrels is hopping around. Our chickens don’t want to come out in the snow. It’s quiet and cold out there.
I think of what my friend said this morning. “Everything has an expiration date.” I remembered, defensively, Paul’s exclamation, “O death, where is thy sting!” Everybody dies. But death always includes resurrection, always includes new life. The phoenix always rises from its ashes. Compost is the richest soil.
This is a hard thing to remember. But within the stillness of this fleeting vision, life flows smooth and strong. Nothing’s gonna stop it, including what we usually call death. Here I can breathe deep, and rest inside each breath, holding on and letting go. One breath at a time. One day at a time. One life at a time.
In Upstream, Mary Oliver writes about the life and work of Edgar Allan Poe: “In the mystery and the energy of loving, we all view time’s shadow upon the beloved as wretchedly as any of Poe’s narrators … In the wide circle of timelessness, everything material and temporal will fail, including the manifestation of the beloved.
“In this universe we are given two gifts: the ability to love, and the ability to ask questions. Which are, at the same time, the fires that warm us and the fires that scorch us. This is Poe’s real story. As it is ours.” (p. 91)
Learning to love well, I surrender my need to know what happens next. I stop trying to shape what I cannot shape, stop grasping what is always just a bit beyond my reach. When I ask, “Why?” I don’t seek an answer so much as communion. None of us knows, and God isn’t telling. So I might as well relax and Be.
May your favor rest on us, oh Lord our God, and establish the work of our hands for us. Yes, establish the work of our hands. That’s my work – to trust in God’s faithfulness, to listen for his voice, and to say Yes when I’m called to give my life.
It is your hands into which I commend myself, O Lord. I want to be led by you, and stop getting ahead of you. Mold me and shape me, let me be soft clay in your hands. The life you create never dies. My thoughts get muddled, my emotions unpredictable, my body diminished. I make so many mistakes! Still, the life you create inside me never dies. Establish the work of my hands.
http://www.davesandel.net/category/lent-easter-devotions-2017/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archived_devotions.php?article_id=1570
