A Well in the Distance

Hagar stood in the desert with her son Ishmael in her arms, the dust of the dry landscape swirling about her. She'd been the slave of Sarah, wife of Abraham, and her son was conceived when Hagar was forced to have a child with Abraham. But when Sarah finally and amazingly gave birth to her own son, Isaac, she urged Abraham to send Hagar and Ishmael away. The hostility drove Hagar and Ishmael out of their home and into the desert to die.

Abraham sent Hagar and Ishmael, the mother and his child, into the barren landscape with only a little bit of water. With no protection from the elements, Hagar walked in the hot sun until she and her child had consumed all of the water; they were parched, without a drop left.

As usual, the biblical story is scant, summing up a dramatic episode in a few short paragraphs. The ancient holy writers leave a lot to the imagination, and so I envision Hagar holding her child close, trying to soothe his dry, thirsty cries.

Finally, Hagar cannot bear to see his parched lips any longer, cannot stand that her words and desperate caresses no longer comfort him. So she places her son under a bush to die. As she walks away helplessly, trying to escape her child's cries, Hagar calls out to God, begging God to prevent her from seeing the death of her son.

At that moment of heart-wrenching distress, Hagar begins to understand she will be a mother of a great nation. It is as if she has somehow been given a taste of Abraham's covenant, when God promised Abraham his offspring would be as numerous as the grains of sand and the stars in the sky. It is after this realization that Hagar looks up and sees a well in the distance.

I wonder what stirred within Hagar that allowed her to imagine a great nation after having just relinquished her son? What caused her to look up from that barren ground and see living waters on the horizon? Was it the same sort of wondrous divinely inspired imagination that allowed Moses to lead men and women through miles of dusty landscape, driven by a vision of something completely different: a land flowing with milk and honey?

Our Scriptures are heavy with characters who became mothers of nations, saviors of people, and leaders of movements because they were somehow able to envisage that life-saving water as they stood in their particular desert. Even though every breath they took made their mouths as dry as dust, God gave them the imagination to hope.

Their examples have inspired a long history of people who have continued to dream of streams in the midst of barren deserts, rivers in dry wilderness, and milk flowing through inhospitable wastelands. In our day, we too can sense great hope in our own seemingly barren landscapes. What may have once been fertile land for our churches is now parched.

Looking over our pews, many of us see the faithful remnant of a congregation from a half-century ago, and we wonder whether our churches will exist twenty years from now. In our denominations, churches that once boasted a membership of 3,000 have dwindled down to 150 members who can no longer afford to keep the church building running. Regularly, our governing bodies downsize and churches close.

Every once in a while, when we crack open our sanctuary doors and take a good look at what is outside, we hardly recognize the world in which we serve, because it has become so different from the one in which our churches were formed. Our denominational churches are no longer situated in the middle of a robust downtown, their proud steeples held erect through the hard work of dedicated housewives. We were seeing the world through a completely different frame then; we were working in a different context. And often those frames don't work in a new generation for a number of reasons.

Within our old frameworks, our church ministries reached out to a different family structure. We had churches that catered to nuclear families-ones with a mother, a father, and offspring. Our congregations often relied heavily on the volunteer work of housewives and geared programming and outreach to young families.

Now people get married and have children later in life, if at all. There is no longer a mom, a dad, and two-and-a-half children in each home. A good percentage of our households are likely to be single or in a same-gender relationship. The women of our congregations typically work at full-time jobs and have less free time to volunteer in the church.

Within our old frameworks, our churches could flourish in a Eurocentric society. Now, the ethnicity and culture of our nation has grown more diverse; we no longer live in the same context in which the particularly white Protestant church flourished. Since the Immigration Act of 1965, when national quotas were abolished and U.S. borders were opened to non-European immigrants, the rich diversity of the United States has become even more vibrant. Yet our mainline churches seldom reflect the diversity of the communities in which they are located.

Within our old frameworks, the people to whom our churches reached out were largely from a Christian background. Most of the people we welcomed into our congregations had been born and raised in the church. They could easily find their way around a Bible and could recite the Lord's Prayer and the Apostles' Creed on demand. These men and women knew those complicated hymns and were familiar with the flow and structure of the worship service.

Today, our neighborhoods are filled with people from a wide array of religious backgrounds and expressions. We struggle to communicate our faith in the midst of such pluralism and, in our worst expressions, we avoid or discriminate against those who are not Christians.

Within our old frameworks, we could rely on social conditioning and denominational loyalty to drive people to church. Now, we need to become much more intentional and caring as we reach out to our wider communities. Our modes of communication have changed so dramatically and so quickly that the church has struggled to keep up. The younger edge of our neighborhoods speaks fluently, instantly, globally, and interactively in the world of social media, while many of our congregations struggle to put together even a basic website.

Many of our denominational churches have found it difficult to thrive in the midst of these changes. Our message has been muted as we try to communicate from generation to generation. Sometimes we've lost the vision to make our churches communities of welcome for our adult sons and daughters, the very people who could map out a course in our shifting deserts. They can easily communicate and minister to different family structures, an array of ethnicities, and among a variety of religious expressions.

The landscape has changed all around us. To some it feels like a desert-dry and barren, inhospitable, unable to sustain the next generation. Yet our common biblical story reminds us that we have a God who brings salvation to people who wander in the driest deserts. With a bit of divine imagination we will see the wells full of living water, as Hagar and Ishmael did. With a bit of divine imagination, we will see the milk and honey flowing all around us.

Even in the driest deserts we are beginning to see networks of tributaries flowing around us and vast constellations of stars sparkling above us. New opportunities, tools, movements, missions, and passions cascade through our wilderness landscape bringing vital ways of organizing faithful communities, communicating prayerful longings, and seeking social justice.

I recently prayed a dangerous prayer...the prayer was that I wanted to go deeper and I am willing to do that in front on my congregation.  Wow, it has been intense. 

Dangerous Prayers

For our reflection during this Lenten journey...enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qe_-WrgmiTc&feature=PlayList&p=2262DB4139D52B64&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=2

Tearing Down Walls, Building Up Hope

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The American Prayer Hour (USA) - Call to Prayer

2nd February, 2010 - Posted by admin -

INTRODUCTION:

Last week, Metropolitan Community Churches united with other prominent human rights advocacy groups in a joint call for prayer regarding a recent bill proposed in Uganda which would legalize the persecution and/or killing of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people.  Today, MCC Elder, Rev. Darlene Garner, addressed a press conference announcing February 4th as a day for prayer.

The American Prayer Hour, scheduled to coincide with the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, DC, and hosted in various cities in the United States, is focused on offering our collective prayers for the safety and inclusion of LGBT individuals in Uganda as well as around the globe.  Please visit www.americanprayerhour.org to learn about APH, find an event scheduled near you and/or consider hosting an American Prayer Hour event in your community.

I would like to thank Rev. Elder Garner for her participation at the APH press conference on MCC's behalf.  Rev. Elder Garner provided a moving call to prayer for those suffering under oppression.  Please take a moment to review the text of Rev. Elder Garner's press statement below.

RELIGIOUS LEADERS ANNOUNCE THE AMERICAN PRAYER HOUR
Statement of The Rev. Elder Darlene Garner
from Metropolitan Community Churches

2 February 2010

My name is Darlene Garner. I am among the spiritual leaders of Metropolitan Community Churches and provide ecclesial care and oversight for our ministries in the Southwest and Mid-Atlantic areas of the United States, Mexico, Central America, South America, and portions of the Caribbean. Metropolitan Community Churches is an international Christian denomination with churches in 28 nations. We are also a global human rights movement with a particular concern for sexual minorities, women, children, and people living with HIV and AIDS around the world.

The sexual minority community in Uganda recently emerged with dignity and hope to claim their human rights. Among the very first-responders to their pleas for legal protection from violence were right-wing religious fundamentalists from the United States. They went into Uganda preaching a blatant lie that God had somehow cursed sexual minorities and condemned people living with HIV. By exporting their own brand of hatred to Uganda, those religious extremists from the U.S. intentionally manipulated the Ugandan leaders, fanned the cultural flames of homophobia among the people, and set the stage for yet another round of civil unrest and genocide in Africa. Aided and abetted by American religious fundamentalists, many Ugandans are now prepared to destroy their own families - to kill their own sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, neighbors and friends - for the sake of an agenda that is not even their own.

What is happening today in Uganda is and has been going on within the United States, in Africa, in parts of Europe, the Middle East, Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean. Indeed, the issue of human rights abuses transcends national boundaries.

In 2006, in response to well-documented patterns of abuse, a distinguished group of international human rights experts met in Yogyakarta, Indonesia to outline a set of international principles relating to sexual orientation and gender identity. The result was the Yogyakarta Principles: a universal guide to human rights which affirm binding international legal standards with which all States must comply. The Principles identify binding human rights standards with which governments must comply. They have been adopted by judges, academics, a former UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, UN Special Procedures, members of treaty bodies, non-governmental organizations and others. They promise a different future where all people born free and equal in dignity and rights can fulfill that precious birthright.

The laws of a nation should protect our lives, not seek to take them. Yet, in spite of the Yogyakarta Principles, the real life experience of millions of sexual minorities around the world is that wherever religious fundamentalism prevails, the lives of sexual minorities are at great risk.

• Lives are still at risk in Moldova where fundamentalist religion causes the police to stand silently on the sidelines doing nothing as an angry mob surrounds a bus filled with a dozen or so young spiritual sexual minority activists, pelts the bus with rocks, and tries to overturn it .
• Lives are still at risk in Jamaica where fundamentalist religious belief is that sexual minorities peacefully gathering for worship deserve to have their worship space surrounded by police bearing guns and neighbors with machetes, police and neighbors alike all threatening the worshipers with eternal damnation.
• Lives are still at risk in the Middle East where fundamentalist religion teaches that sexual minorities should be killed for supposedly bringing shame on their family just by virtue of their mere existence.
• Lives are still at risk in South Africa where as many as one in four lesbians in townships has been brutally raped because fundamentalist religion teaches that rape is a cure for their homosexuality.
• Lives are still at risk in the United States where fundamentalist religion makes it possible for sexual minorities to be forced to participate in so-called reparative therapy that kills the natural spirit or where sexual minorities can be strung up on a fence and left to die.

For over 40 years now, Metropolitan Community Churches has witnessed to and spoken out against neo-colonialist right-wing religious fundamentalism as it wreaks havoc with human rights around the globe. It is time for the abuse to stop.

The world cannot remain silent as Uganda's Parliament once again prepares to legalize murder. The United States cannot be silent as hate-mongers from this nation continue to export violence and abuse. People of faith cannot be silent as right-wing religious extremists distort the sacred texts and holy scripture for their own twisted and hateful purposes.

Now is the time to speak and to pray! U.S. religious extremism must be expelled from Uganda. Indeed, U.S. right-wing fundamentalism must release its hold on all nations, including the United States. Now is the time for all of us to tear down the walls that divide and oppress us and to build up hope for the day when all people can enjoy full human rights and equality under the laws of our nations.

Posted on: February 2, 2010

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As I ponder the mystery and power of this season and the life of Christ...the community of Agape' comes to my mind and heart and I wanted to let you know what a blessing you are to me and to the world.  I will be holding space for you on your path and my prayer for you is a transformative Christmas and a powerful New Year.  I am grateful beyond words to be part of your journey and I look forward to all that is to come in 2010 and beyond.  Be blessed!  Namaste, Rev. David

I think a lot about community.  We are all part of different communities that support us and heal us in a myriad of ways.  It is also true that community is a real source of challenge...constantly calling us to revisit our connections, our boundaries, and the ways we don't feel supported and feel wounded within them.  I have often dreamed of the solitude of moving to the mountains and living simply, alone with my wife and son...okay and the guinea pig and the cat, close to the earth, and think...wow, that would be so peaceful.  And while it could very well be peaceful...it would also be lonely and I would lose the lessons of community which have helped me to find the parts of me I continue to find.  So, grapple with the journey of community with me...and enjoy the following which came to me from Courage and Renewal of North Texas.  Enjoy!  Namaste, David

Thinking About Community 

Last Thursday,  October 15th, 25 individuals gathered for Dinner & Dialogue to share and discuss in the hopes of learning more about themselves, each other and our richly diverse community. On that night, Cindy shared a story about community written by Wendell Berry.  I would like to share that story and the following questions with you now.

 What Are People For

    I was walking one Sunday afternoon several years ago with an older friend. We went by the ruining log house that had belonged to his grandparents and great-grandparents. The house stirred my friend's memory, and he told how the old-time people used to visit each other in the evenings, especially in the long evenings of winter. There used to be a sort of institution in our part of the country known as "sitting till bedtime." After supper, when they weren't too tired, neighbors would walk across the field to visit each other. They popped corn, my friend said, and ate apples and talked. They told each other stories. They told stories about each other, about themselves, living again in their own memories and thus keeping their memories alive. Among the hearers of these stories were always the children. When bedtime came, the visitors lit their lanterns and went home. My friend talked about this, and thought about it, and then he said, "They had everything but money."

    They were poor, as country people have often been, but they had each other, they had their local economy in which they helped each other, they had each other's comfort when they needed it, and they had their stories, their history together in that place.

- Wendell Berry

1. Think of a specific experience that you have or had where there is/was a real sense of community.  What did it look like, feel like, sound like?  What made it "real community"?  What was your role?
    
   
   
2. Based on those experiences, think about the following questions:
       a.  What helps you to participate in community?
       b.  What keeps you from participating in community?
       c.  What do these reflections suggest as you are involved in community in the days ahead?

Dear Saints, as we enter the month of October we as the movement of Metropolitan Community Churches are turning 41.   When I reflect back upon my 15 years in this family I feel such tremendous gratitude and whisper a prayer of thanks to Great Spirit for all that MCC has meant to me and to the world.  Enjoy a blog from our Moderator, Rev. Elder Nancy Wilson at this time of celebration!  Namaste!  David

Oh wow, it has been a long time since I have blogged...however, I have committed myself to the rhythms of life as Spirit directs those, so things happen when they happen, yes?   I find myself today having the gift of reading the sermon Rev. Teri preached this past Sunday while I was away on vacation and it was and is a powerful offering to my soul.  Please enjoy and please let her know how much her gifts are treasured in this place...Namaste.   

Finding a Third Way

September 20, 2009

Luke 6: 37-42

"Don't judge, and you won't be judged; don't condemn, and you won't be condemned. Pardon and you'll be pardoned.  Give and it will be given to you: a full measure, packed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For the amount you measure out will be the amount you'll be given back."

He also told them a parable: "Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a ditch? 

The student is not above the teacher, but all students will, once they are fully trained, be on par with their teacher."

"How can you look at the splinter in another's eye, yet miss the plank in your own? How can you say to another, Let me remove the splinter from your eye, but fail to see the board lodged in your own? Hypocrite, remove the board from your own eye first; then you'll see clearly enough to remove the splinter from the eye of another."

I used to be married to a Presbyterian minister.  We were married for 30 years.  In fact I came to Fort Worth from California because he was called to pastor a church here.  We had been here for a while when it became apparent that he and the church were not a very good match.  He had suspected it from the very first months, but since our family had moved across the country to be here, he really wanted it to work. 

But after three years he was asked by the board to resign.  The church was very divided over the whole thing, about a third of the members were adamant that he leave, and the remaining 2/3's were rallying behind him hoping he would stay.  I can still remember the night the doorbell rang and we opened it to see all these friends and members of the church standing on our lawn holding lit candles.  They didn't want us to go.  But it was his choice.  In the end, he resigned because no one ever really wins in a church fight.  Some will walk away feeling righteous or justified, others will walk away feeling resentful or wounded; any common ground they once shared swallowed up in the fight.  

It was devastating for our children.  All their lives my three sons had gone to church where dad was the pastor.  Now there was no church to go to, their father was deeply depressed, and we weren't sure we could afford to stay in our house.  It was a very hard time in every way:  financially, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually. 

I will never forget something my youngest son asked.  He was ten years old at the time, and trying to make sense of it all.  He said, "Is Bob still our friend?"  Bob was an older man who sat on the board; he had been to our house many times to help us when we had computer problems, and was someone my son liked.  But I had to say, "No honey, Bob does not want to be our friend anymore." 

There was no way I could explain why or how this had happened, how people's ideas of being right could be so hurtful to relationships, how they could break trust in order to avoid change.  It broke my heart.  It broke my son's heart. 

But it's not just in churches that things like this happen.  It happens in other work places, it happens in marriages, it happens in conflicts that escalate into divisiveness and war.  People judge others.  People get more concerned about their power, position, protecting their image than they do about the well-being of their own souls and the souls of those around them.

Jesus says:  Don't judge and you will not be judged.  Don't condemn and you will not be condemned.   Forgive and you'll be forgiven.  Give and it will be given unto you.  The measure you give with be the measure you get.  Take the beam out of your own eye before you try to get the speck out of your neighbor's eye. 

But is that possible? 

We have a tendency to take sides, to take stands, to hold positions on everything from child-rearing to personal finances, from health care reform to whether to send more troops to the Middle East.  The more attached we are to certain outcomes the harder we will fight, and the more judgmental we will be of others who hold opposing positions.  It's what we do, isn't it? 

Human beings are amazing creatures.  We are this hybrid of instincts both human and Divine. We are caught in the tension between an ego that is committed to justifying and defending itself and a Spirit that is homesick for its Source.  We are a mystery. 

"We don't see the world as it is, we see it as we are."  We see everything around us filtered through the lens of our own personalities, our personal experiences, our beliefs and convictions.  Every day we sit like judges at the bench, passing judgment on all that we encounter, whether events, people we meet or already know, even our own souls.  When it comes to judging, everyone of us is a bit of an obsessive/compulsive, it feels like we can't help ourselves, we are constantly assigning things to categories:  good/bad, right/wrong, liberal/conservative, rich/poor, smart/stupid, enlightened/hard-hearted. 

Why do we do that?  What do we gain?  Who benefits?

Well, sometimes we want to feel superior, but the most arrogant people are also the most insecure.  Sometimes we want to have more influence or power, not necessarily to use for good but just to have, we want to be important.  We want to win because who notices the losers.  We want to look strong, not wimpy.  Sometimes judging others is just a way to stay busy so we don't have to look at our own stuff. 

Have you ever walked with a long ladder and tried to navigate in a tight space?  It can be scary...broken windows, knocked over paint cans.  It's hard to know just where the ladder ends so it's easy to run into stuff because you can't see the front and the back at the same time. 

That's how I picture the person in today's parable.  He or she is totally focused on getting the speck out of a neighbor's eye while all the time oblivious to this big ole beam sticking out of their own eye. 

I imagine this person whacking people with it as they turn their head, happily unaware of the havoc they create.  They aren't aware of what they're doing because they are so focused on something small and petty about someone else, while they're the one knocking down lamps and breaking dishes with this big plank in their own eye that everyone can see except them.  At some time or another we have all done it.

So my question this morning is, "How's that judging working out for you?"  Here are some things to ask yourself:

• When I'm judging am I at peace?
• When I'm critical do I feel more whole?
• When I'm convinced of my rightness and you're wrongness, do I feel close and connected to you?

Probably not.  Think about it.  How's the judging working out for you? 

Is there another way to be?  Yes.

I have walked in the woods from time to time and in that quietness listened to the animals around me, small creatures in the undergrowth, lizards on rocks, birds in trees.  At night if you sit around a campfire you might see eyes gleaming in the darkness, catching the light of the fire.  Racoons or possums (I never imagine they are the eyes of anything more scary).  In the early morning I have seen deer in a meadow.  Big brown eyes looking at me.  The flicker of an ear, tenseness in their muscles, waiting to see whether I am a threat or just a curiosity.  They stand still.  And so do I.  I consciously hold myself still and quiet so as not to frighten them off.  In that still quiet moment there is a trust between us and a fascination that we are sharing this common space in this moment.  And usually it's only a moment before they take off, but usually they don't run away, they just turn and go.

If you want to observe animals in the wild you don't go stomping around, crashing through the underbrush, yelling for them to come out.  They will only hide.  Animals in the wild are wary and shy.

So is the soul.  The soul is shy.  It won't show up unless it feels safe.  It won't show up when it's being judged or condemned.  It won't show up when it feels manipulated or coerced or used.  Like an animal in the wild it will just hide in the dense undergrowth until the danger is gone. 

Your soul is shy.  So is mine.  But shy as it is, it has never lost its original form and it never stops calling us back to our birthright as people of Spirit, people of integrity and creativity and wholeness. 

I want our church to be a place where it is safe for souls to show up.  I want each of us to be a person who makes it safe for another person's soul to show up.

I've been reading a book by Parker Palmer called "A Hidden Wholeness:  The Journey Toward An Undivided Life.

He says what makes it hard for us to create safe space for one another is that we are impatient with tension and uncomfortable with ambiguity.  We want to resolve tension as quickly as we can.  We like solutions and resolutions.  We like certainty and closure.  We like a done deal without a lot of messiness.

When we encounter someone with a different perspective than our own, we often experience it as a threat, or as a challenge to our own understanding or identity or values.  The tendency we have when faced with a threat is to choose one of two paths:  fight or flight.  We tend to fight for our own position or flee to avoid conflict and contention.  Standing still and waiting isn't our first impulse.  But the soul doesn't make an appearance when we fight or when we run.

"But there is a third way, a way beyond fight or flight.  We can learn to hold the tension of opposites, trusting that the tension itself will pull our hearts and minds open to a third way of thinking and acting... We can experience our capacity to honor, not violate, the identity and integrity of others."

It takes time to listen to one another.  To be curious about why another holds to a certain perspective - without trying to argue or change their mind, without trying to fix them or save them.  We create safe space by showing reverence and respect.  In the Gospel of Thomas this parable of the beam in my eye and the speck in yours also shows up.  But I love the verse right before it which says:

Love your brother and your sister as your very own being. 

Protect them as you would the pupil of your eye.

Think about that.  Think about how you guard and care for your eyes because they are so vulnerable.  Jesus invites us to protect our own being and one another with the same care.  To act in every situation in ways that honor the soul, ways that honor the Spirit, the inner teacher within us, and to support and create safe space for one another to do the same. 

We live in a gap - it's the gap between the way things are and the way we know they might be.  And it's a gap that never has been or never will be closed.  But it's where we are called to stand.  We are called to hold in tension the reality of this moment and the possibility that something better might emerge. 

My desire and prayer for you today is this:

May your shy soul find safe space to respond to its calling. 

May we commit to holding that space for each other.

Amen.

As I slide into Wednesday, it has been a very intense week.  I have encountered folks who have suffered unspeakable violation and a life that ended too soon.  There have been health scares and moments of clarity about what is struly important in life.  And, as Spirit is wont to do...she has shown up through a friend who sent this along and as it has helped me...I thought it might help some of you...it comes from the Upper Room Devotionals.  Be blessed...

 BEFORE I went to Somalia as a journalist, I was told it is a God-forsaken country. It's hot, dry, and lacks amenities such as electricity and running water. I visited a small hospital, really only open-air cinder-block rooms, that lacked even rudimentary supplies. There I met two Muslim physicians, both volunteers. One of their patients was a severely injured aid worker who had driven onto one of the land mines that litter much of the region. Across the hall was a terribly burned young woman whose hut caught fire after a bomb she had been hiding for a rebel group exploded. The physician tending her spoke softly, swabbing the young woman's wounds with great tenderness. Death and destruction rain down far too easily in this place. But in the midst of terror and pain, between a peacemaker and a guerrilla, I watched this doctor risking his life to bring wholeness. I heard compassion in his voice and saw it in his healing touch. I felt that I stood in the presence of God, and I knew that God has not forsaken this place -- or any place of suffering and pain. Larry Hollon (Tennessee, USA)

O God, we never know where we will find you or in whose face you will appear. Keep us mindful that you are present even in places we've been told you have forsaken. Help us to see your steadfast love in every face and every place. Amen.

Hello Saints!  I must confess I am having one of those weeks...maybe you know them...weeks that are just a bit  "sludgy" feeling?  Most days this week I have felt as though I am navigating molasses as I move throughout my day.  Of course, the way I have traditionally responded to that is RESISTANCE!  "No, I must not give in to the "sludgy" feeling...I must act as though all is well and ignore the sludge!"  Well, here's the thing about sludge...ignoring it does not make it go away...big shock, I know...so I have learned to engage the sludge in a little conversation.  "So, sludgy feeling, why are you here?"  It's amazing the things I've learned by just being willing to be in relationship with all of me...the sludgy feeling had some powerful things to teach me and lo and behold...I'm feeling a little less sludgy today.  The journey is truly one of elevations and valleys and everything in between...fortunately, there is always a rope of love extended when you are waist deep in molasses.

Please enjoy my favorite version of the 23rd Psalm.  I, of course, have inclusified it and have never been able to find an author to credit...it has been powerful in my life. 

Native American 23rd Psalm

 The Great Creator above is a Shepherd Chief.

I am yours and with you I want not.

Great Spirit throws out to me a rope
and the name of the rope is Love
and I am drawn to where the grass is green
and the water not dangerous
and I eat and am satisfied.

Sometimes my heart is very weak
and falls down
but Spirit lifts me up again
and draws me into a good road.
Creator's name is Wonderful.

Sometime, and it may be very soon,
it may be very long, long in time
Spirit will draw me into a valley.
It is dark there, but I'll be afraid not,
for it is in between those mountains
that the Shepherd Creator will meet me
and the hunger that I have in my heart
all through this life will be satisfied.

Spirit gives me a staff to lean upon,
and spreads a table before me
with all kinds of food.
Great Spirit puts a hand upon my head
and all the "tired" is gone.
My cup is filled till it runs over.
What I tell is true.
I lie not.

These roads that are away ahead
will stay with me through life and after,
and afterwards I will go to live
in the Big Tepee and sit down
with the Shepherd Chief forever.

So be it.