The 60-Second Sabbath

The Point

When I walked into the kitchen this morning,
eager for my warming cup of cinnamon decaf,
I found a note on the counter
    ...from Sophia.
It started:

    Sorry we missed you.
    Figured you were sleeping in
        because of the gray skies and snow.
    Enjoy!

Then she got to the point:

    Was talking with the guys this morning,
    and we thought you could use this reminder:

The purpose/point/intent
of the life of faith
is not sometime in the future,
but now.

To know and love God
now.

To serve and love others
now.

To inhale and exhale joy,
now.

To absorb and exude compassion,
now.

To cultivate union with
and love for God
now.

The focal point
of the life of faith--
of your life of faith--
is this moment.

I've been reading and re-reading this since.

Text and image © 2017 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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On Disagreement

How well do we
disagree?

How well do we--
    as individuals,
    as a culture,
    as a nation in the world arena--
disagree?

Part of maturity,
part of an evolved faith,
is the ability to disagree
    with respect,
    with appreciation,
    with empathy,
    with acceptance,
    with grace

(and therefore
    without ridicule,
    without defensiveness,
    without anger,
    without fear).

I think, for example,
of American politics*:

If God watches to see
how well we disagree,
how sad she must feel.

*or religion, morality, social media, etc.

Text and image © 2015 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

Maundy Thursday

It's probably not your feet
most in need of washing,
but let Jesus begin there,
and when he's done,
you may have the courage
to request a fuller cleansing.

I mean, he's already here (right?)
with the basin,
the warm water,
the clean towel,
those beautiful, gentle hands,
    soon to be shattered.

Text and image © 2015 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

Would You?

You don't believe;
    I get that.
But if you could,
    would you?

I can't run a marathon,
    but if I could,
    I would.

I can't sing like Andrea Bocelli,
    but if I could,
    I would.

We share that ache for meaning,
    don't we?

    yearning for depth,
    craving connection,
    desiring amazement...

It would be nice to believe,
    wouldn't it?
Would you,
    if you could?

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

Advent Grief

How, at your end, are things?

Christmas just a few weeks away
and such sudden emptiness
of home, of heart

death leaves us vacant;
I have felt it;
negative space the shape of your beloved

for a time
you shall occupy that space
cry there, breathe there
fall into sleep there,
    a sleep not unlike death
unfathomably, you shall heal there
there in that nothingness

it's not a dangerous place
just necessary and sad

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

The Approach

Advent,
    and who is this approaching?

What hidden self
    emerges from the woods,
    the crawl space,
    the garden labyrinth?

What time-hidden, reclusive divine embodiment
    has Word to give,
    Word to enflesh,
    my Word, that Word?

What lost unspokenness
    now comes to the end of its wandering?

Where will be this birthing,
    its pain, its release,
    its joy, its terror?

Giving birth. Being birthed.

Advent,
    and what is this approaching?

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

Veils

Throughout life
each loss
removes another of the veils
that obscure the Mystery
we desperately yearn
to see and hold.

Some veils
slip slowly from their rods,
like so much sighing.

Some veils
are torn away
by sudden and ferocious winds,
like flashes of celestial anger.

Loss hurts so very much.

But there is this, at least--
by now we are many veils closer,
so many veils closer...

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

Another Prayer for Lent

Let me stretch imagination.
Let me break the curve of time.
Let me cut through bland convention
to the heart of the divine.

Let me say the unexpected.
Let me be what's on God's mind.
Let me leap to reach the heaven
I have faith is fully mine.

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

John 13:23

Why does John
refer to
"the disciple whom Jesus loved"
and not name him/her?

John employs a literary device:
by leaving that disciple unnamed,
that disciple becomes me;
that disciple becomes you.

I...you...
recline on Jesus' breast,
cheek to chest,
feeling his warmth,
the rise and fall of his breath.

Listen to his heart beat;
let his beat
be yours,
his beat
be yours,
his beat
be yours...

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.

Prayer for Lent

Lead us, O God,
from the beautiful,
to the good,
to the true.

Lead us, O God,
from what catches the eye and the breath,
to what quickens the heart and the conscience,
to what cradles the soul and the spirit.

Lead us, O God,
ever deeper
into you.

Amen.

Text and image © 2014 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.