Thursday, September 12, 2013

 Today’s text

Luke 15:1-6

The tax collectors and sinners, however, were all crowding round to listen to him, and the Pharisees and scribes complained saying, 'This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.' So he told them this parable: 'Which one of you with a hundred sheep, if he lost one, would fail to leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the missing one till he found it? And when he found it, would he not joyfully take it on his shoulders and then, when he got home, call together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, "Rejoice with me, I have found my sheep that was lost." 

Reflection

I want to be found. I want to share in the joy. I want the lost parts of me--the places that get lost from grace and love--to be sought and found by this searching God who wants to find and carry me home.

I know home. Home is this Love who made me. When I know and feel it within, filling me, I am strong and know I have all I need. Home is joy. Home is confidence, not in the strength of my mind or hand but in the completeness of the One who is Love. This is home.

But I spend too much time away from home, weary or worried about work undone, about efforts that fail, about the perceived or real rejection of others. My soul languishes, lost, alone, longing for Love to find and fill me once more and tell me what I need to know, the only thing I need to know.

So I want to found by the Great Seeker who is known in every love that is, the One who hungers to find me when I am lost, to fill me when I am empty, to raise me when my spirit withers.

What shall I do? Where shall go I that I might be found?

Nothing? No where? Every where.

I shall go here and be quiet. I shall pour out the lostness of my soul, the weakness of my heart, the hunger to know, and in the midst of it all you will be there. You will find me once more amid my tears and fatigue.

You will find me. Even as you just have, here and now, as I pour out my heart and realize … once more … that it is not my heart I feel, but your heart, O Great Seeker, your love.

Once more, you have found me. Once more you fill me. Once more I know the consoling Presence of the Love so far beyond and so much greater than anything else.

Once more, I am ready to live, really live this day, knowing what I need to know, filled … once more … with the wondrous substance of grace, the Love for which you made me, a vessel to know and carry you to others.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 15:1-6

The tax collectors and sinners, however, were all crowding round to listen to him, and the Pharisees and scribes complained saying, 'This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.' So he told them this parable: 'Which one of you with a hundred sheep, if he lost one, would fail to leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the missing one till he found it? And when he found it, would he not joyfully take it on his shoulders and then, when he got home, call together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, "Rejoice with me, I have found my sheep that was lost." 

Reflection

Who are you, Holy One? Old images from early childhood linger in the mind and offend the senses in bad religious art. Certainly, you not a person, an object sitting off in space, on a throne closely watching us.

After all these years I am at a loss to answer any would ask, “Just what is it that you believe? Who is this God in whom you say you believe?”

I can have no adequate images or comparisons to answer the question. Plus, the commandment tells me to make no images of you, for everything I imagine is too small, too primitive and misses the mark of your mystery

Yet, Jesus compares you to the most common things, as if you are as close as my breath, as tangible as the unbuttoned shirt sleeves hanging loose on my arms in the morning cool.

You are that close, he says, close as my desire to save, protect and care for what is mine.

You speak: Feel the desire within you. Feel the longing to take your beloved into your arms and hold them near. Feel the joy that fills you when you enfold tender children and feel their breath against your cheek. Feel the desire to love and protect, to touch and be touched, to comfort a soul in fear and assure them that all will be well because love never fails.

Feel the desire of Love in your heart, and know: This is the Presence of the Holy One, giving you knowledge no book can, personal knowing of the One whom you can never image or imagine.

Just feel it. The Holy One is that desire, that uncreated Love itself in your love, pulsing in your desire for union with those dearest to your heart.

That’s who God is--this hunger for the union, this joy in loving, close as your breath, warm as your heart.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, September 4, 2013

 Today’s text

Luke 14:31-33

Or again, what king marching to war against another king would not first sit down and consider whether with ten thousand men he could stand up to the other who was advancing against him with twenty thousand? If not, then while the other king was still a long way off, he would send envoys to sue for peace. So in the same way, none of you can be my disciple without giving up all that he owns.

Reflection

The cost of following Jesus is constant and unending--yourself.

It is not once given, but daily. Each day one wakes and chooses, once more, to surrender the self you think you are, the self you have been, for the self that is Christ within you.

There is a pearl of great price in every soul. Call it Spirit. Call it grace or love. It is the Christ heart that hungers for the Love it is, the Love who brought it into being, the Love it hungers to be.

The price of following Jesus, the cost of the cross, is the willingness to surrender whatever else you are for the sake of this heart.

The Christ heart calls us beyond commitments to job, friends or even family. It coaxes us beyond whatever we cling to give ourselves meaning and purpose. It tells us our struggle to be important and to gain other’s respect distracts us from life’s real purpose.

It whispers on dark nights when sleep fails, when the noise of life is silenced and we hear our own inner voice. “Nothing else matters,’ it says. “Nothing. All that matters is being this heart, this soul, this love.”

The voice tells us the truth. It is the voice of the Christ heart calling us beyond what we are, beyond that to which we give our time and attention, beyond the common ways we define ourselves, beyond the labels others assign to us at work or play or school, beyond their expectations and demands.

It calls us to give up all those other selves and be the Great Self that is the heart of Christ hidden and sleeping within.

It asks for everything … and gives much more.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

 Today’s text

Luke 14:25-27

Great crowds accompanied him on his way and he turned and spoke to them. 'Anyone who comes to me without hating father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, yes and his own life too, cannot be my disciple. No one who does not carry his cross and come after me can be my disciple. 

Reflection

Much must be surrendered before we can follow Jesus. This journey is more inward than outward, although sometimes the inward journey comes only when life strips us of trappings and securities we thought essential to a good and happy life.

To follow Jesus is to find one’s identity and worth, one’s joy and peace in nothing external, not in reputation or success, not in the respect of others or the accumulation of whatever the world tells us is valuable.

To ‘come after’ Jesus is to come into intimacy with Wordless Love and feel that wonder at the core of yourself--knowing that One as your truest self, knowing that Love as the one certainty that can never be lost or stolen from you.

Jesus invites and draws us to know what he knows, the inner truth of his life, and to know it as our inner truth.

But we cannot enter this most sacred space when we seek ourselves--our peace and joy, our value and worth, our security, meaning and assurance--in anything other than this inner ground of love.

The great saints knew what Jesus knew. Their lives were grounded in this Love, which allowed them to surrender security and comfort for the sake of the Love within them. They could surrender themselves to hard and frustrating labors knowing themselves as Love’s cherished children.

This was the daily touchstone and stability of their lives. They communed deeply with this Love and found themselves there, content to know what only Love teaches, working, too, as expressions of the Love at their core.

They did not necessarily hate their mothers and fathers and families. Some loved them deeply. But they no longer found their ultimate meaning and purpose there. Their well being and peace was no longer invested in these relationships.

They turned from external sources of peace and freedom, divesting themselves of all that did not ground their lives and actions in the Wordless Love, who tells us everything we need to know.

Pr. David L. Miller

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 14:7-11

Jesus then told the guests a parable, because he had noticed how they picked the places of honor. He said this, 'When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take your seat in the place of honor. A more distinguished person than you may have been invited, and the person who invited you both may come and say, "Give up your place to this man." And then, to your embarrassment, you will have to go and take the lowest place. No; when you are a guest, make your way to the lowest place and sit there, so that, when your host comes, he may say, "My friend, move up higher." Then, everyone with you at the table will see you honored. For everyone who raises himself up will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be raised up.' 

Reflection

There is always someone more distinguished than you invited to share every precious moment of life. And that person is … you, the real you, not the mask of ego you present to the world.

There is a deeper person, a soul, contemplatives call it the ‘true self’ that is so much more--and more real--than the series of masks we wear in the world, one at work, another at school, a third in the neighborhood, and so on.

All of these masks are, at best, a shadow of the deeper reality, the being we each are.

Each of is an incarnation of the breath and life of God. Each of us is a word of God’s loving creativity breathed into time and space. The power of being that gives us life and being is the One who is love. At our core, we are expressions of not of love, but of Love.

And each of intuitively knows … we are so much more than the face we so carefully present to the world.

But there are moments when our true self appears. There are moments when we are totally loved … and loving, giving ourselves away. At times of deepest pain or truest love, our soul spills out. We feel and know that self, that soul that the mystics say is the indwelling of God, the Spirit of God, the breath of God. Choose whichever metaphor you like. They all amount to more or less the same thing.

In such moments, we are aware of the love resides at our core, the love that is God. We feel connected, truly connected with who we really are. We feel our unity with all others and all creation. We feel and know that none of us our islands but are part of one great ocean of life.

It is a moment of lucidity when we know who we are, knowing, too, that all we are and all that exists is enfolded in Uncreated Love.

Still, we walk around each day living an illusion, defending and shining up our tiny selves, those little social selves that must get on in the world and make the best impression, falsely thinking that this surface self is who we are.

The harder we work to inflate our importance and appearance, the more we preen and posture, the more anxious and insecure we become. For, we know the self we defend is an imposter. He or she isn’t truly real.

Freedom and peace come only as we let go of this imposter and listen to the heart of love that burns at our core. Doing this, we slowly give up our worries about climbing higher or getting ahead of others.

When the imposter disappears, we begin to feel the soul we are--the presence of God within. Feeling this, we are raised up to the height of our humanity where we commune with Love Unlimited.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 13:10-13

One Sabbath day he was teaching in one of the synagogues, and there before him was a woman who for eighteen years had been possessed by a spirit that crippled her; she was bent double and quite unable to stand upright. When Jesus saw her he called her over and said, 'Woman, you are freed from your disability,' and he laid his hands on her. And at once she straightened up, and she glorified God. 

Reflection

Gracious and holy God, look upon the weariness of our souls. Touch and lift us. Free us from the load we bear.

Or is even this your will?

How can we ever know that the present moment of trial isn’t the key that opens the door to blessedness?

For bearing the weight that stoops the soul I come to you and am glad of it. I am blessed to be here, tears in my eyes, wondering once more if the disinterested, wandering souls of those I serve is not indication that I am done.

Perhaps I have lost whatever Spirit I once had to draw souls to you. Perhaps I never had it in the first place, and I lived an illusion. But I don’t think so. Truth lies elsewhere.

The needs of my wounded ego to be accepted, treasured and loved become more important than you.

This is the pain of this moment … and the invitation. This is the door to blessedness.

I undergo one more blessed stripping of ego, one more shame, one more experience of the failure to be what I want others to imagine that I am--once more revealing that most of the weight on my shoulders is self-imposed.

And once more I hear the Voice. “Cast aside all thoughts of success and failure, the ego’s petty needs to be seen and taken seriously. Just be. Here. Now.”

You see it all, don’t you, and unlike me you understand the soul’s tangle. And you smile on this soul, this heart that loves and loves you, nonetheless.

“It’s enough,” you say. “It’s enough to hear the Voice of Love telling you to stand up straight and walk.

“I am that Voice.”

“Listen. Nothing else matters.

“Nothing else frees.”

Yes, I know.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 12:49-52

'I have come to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already! There is a baptism I must still receive, and what constraint I am under until it is completed! 'Do you suppose that I am here to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. For from now on, a household of five will be divided: three against two and two against three.

Reflection

Lord, have mercy on me. Never take from me this fire, this passion, this hunger to be given away in love.

The fire of God is rush of love that fills the soul and wakes us from the sleepy apathy of mere contentment. It is the passion to bless and heal what is broken and console hearts that hurt.

It is the fire in the belly that longs for a great cause, a holy purpose to which one can surrender, knowing there is something beyond your present self that is worth giving all, losing all, surrendering all … with joy

It is passion that can not be content or satisfied by anything less than Unsurpassable Love. It is the hunger to know oneself surrounded, enveloped and filled with love from the Uncreated Source of all that is.

It is burning desire for oneness, for completion, for final unity with God, not just for oneself but for all that is--for all that suffers, for all that is broken, for all that needs to be whole and well.

It is unrest and agitation with business as usual. It is not content to leave well enough alone because love never gives up and never quits until all is truly well.

Fire is the love of God incarnate in our loves, taking flesh in our flesh, filling us and driving us to lives that matter, lives that bless, lives that give life where life and joy are threatened and dying.

Cast your fire in our lives and church, O Lord. Awaken us when we are sleeping, prod us when we are content and apathetic, confront the trivialities on which waste our lives and gifts.

Ignite the flame of divine love within us that our souls may burn with the same passion that flames from your divine heart. Fill us with the fire you are.

Let us live one day, this day, from the heart, pouring ourselves out for love of this crazy, confusing world.

Make us brothers and sisters of Jesus, your fire child.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, July 4, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 10:17-20

The seventy-two came back rejoicing. 'Lord,' they said, 'even the devils submit to us when we use your name.' He said to them, 'I watched Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Look, I have given you power to tread down serpents and scorpions and the whole strength of the enemy; nothing shall ever hurt you. Yet do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you; rejoice instead that your names are written in heaven.' 

Reflection

The 72 messengers of Jesus did not know why they were happy. They really didn’t understand. But Jesus did, and it is easy to see him smiling as he surveyed their innocent ignorance and told them their names are written in heaven

Truth is that they had already experienced a tiny bit of heaven, which is what brought them joy. They knew the joy of giving themselves to the work of life, the labor of God’s Spirit.

They had released the power of God’s kingdom through their acts of blessing and healing. The wonder of the Almighty and All-Merciful had flowed through their hands and arms, their words and hearts.

They had tasted the very essence of the Absolute, cooperating and flowing in the currents of the Mercy whose name can never be spoken because none of us will ever really understand.

We understand only the wonder of the joy that fills and spills from the depth of our being when we share the blessing and healing and loving that comes from the heart of God.

The messengers of Jesus bubbled with joy at having cooperated with the Holy One by healing and lessening the destructiveness that strikes and mars the fullness of life which God intends.

They experienced heaven coming to the broken through their own hands and mouths, and because they, too, were broken like every human soul, they also felt its healing power.

And they were happy, happy to have tasted a little piece of heaven, happy to have carried it to others, happy to know their names are known in heaven by the One who is Mercy.

They knew this is what life is about, and nothing else matters half so much.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

 Today’s text

Luke 10:1-5

After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them out ahead of him in pairs, to all the towns and places he himself would be visiting. And he said to them, 'The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to do his harvesting. Start off now, but look, I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. Take no purse with you, no haversack, no sandals. Salute no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, let your first words be, "Peace to this house!" 

Reflection

Recently, I returned from a mission trip with 19 others. Their ages and gifts for ministry varied widely, and each contributed the gifts and heart they had to offer.

We traveled to Oklahoma to offer peace to the wounded souls of children whose lives and community were ripped apart by the merciless winds of a tornado that killed more than 20 and smashed more than a thousand homes.

We went together, needing each other at least as much as the children of Moore, Oklahoma needed us.

This is the way of Jesus.  His messengers of peace do no go alone. They live in companionship, knowing how badly they need each other to be souls of grace.

They do not go as conquerors, triumphantly proclaiming success or victory. Nor do they imagine they are better or stronger than the souls to which they go.

They are not burdened by what they own or distracted by those they know.  They travel humbly, knowing they are as dependent and vulnerable as those they serve, just as needy and hungry for God’s merciful kingdom.

They go needing basic necessities--food, shelter, safety, receiving hospitality as grace along the way.

And they offer what everyone needs. “Peace,” they say to those who need the peace of God that only comes as we in our naked humanity reach out our hands to give our blessings and to receive the gifts of others.

Twenty long centuries separated Jesus’ first disciples from our journey to Oklahoma, but these truths remain the same.

We went on our mission trip expecting to give a word of peace and healing. Now, it’s hard to say who received more: The children to whom we extended the peace of God, or we who took to the road to give something we little understand ourselves--except that this blessing of peace is to be shared.

In that sharing, the kingdom of God appeared among us, the community of God’s peace where human beings become more fully human and joy lights the faces of people when you least expect it.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

 Today’s text

Luke 8:26-35

They came to land in the territory of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. He was stepping ashore when a man from the city who was possessed by devils came towards him; for a long time the man had been living with no clothes on, not in a house, but in the tombs. Catching sight of Jesus he gave a shout, fell at his feet and cried out at the top of his voice, 'What do you want with me, Jesus, son of the Most High God? I implore you, do not torture me.' For Jesus had been telling the unclean spirit to come out of the man. It had seized on him a great many times, and then they used to secure him with chains and fetters to restrain him, but he would always break the fastenings, and the devil would drive him out into the wilds. Jesus asked him, 'What is your name?' He said, 'Legion' -- because many devils had gone into him. And these begged him not to order them to depart into the Abyss. Now there was a large herd of pigs feeding there on the mountain, and the devils begged him to let them go into these. So he gave them leave. The devils came out of the man and went into the pigs, and the herd charged down the cliff into the lake and was drowned. When the swineherds saw what had happened they ran off and told their story in the city and in the country round about; and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus they found the man from whom the devils had gone out sitting at the feet of Jesus, wearing clothes and in his right mind; and they were afraid. 

Reflection

It’s not right. “Legion,” the possessed man when asked his name, and we might answer the same. “My name is legion, for many things possess and define me.”

But that is not right, not for him or for us.

We are not the demons that take control of us. We are not the fears, defense mechanisms or anxieties about our success, appearance and importance that possess us and obscure our deepest identity.

We are not the deficiencies and disappointments that haunt so many, nor are we the wounds and sorrows that seek control over our waking thoughts.

These things seek to define us, possess us, and too often we allow it, thinking that, yes, this is who we really are: that legion of feelings, the weight of the past, fears of the future and gnawing insecurities that shape our inner life and much outward behavior.

But this is not who we are. This is not our identity, and we know it when we, like the Gerasene demoniac are restored to our right mind.

Jesus enters the wild lands of our confusion, where we are driven about by one compulsion or another that takes possession of our minds and convinces us we are far less than we are.

How many times have I heard others… or myself spoken the words … ‘I am only …’ or I am just a …?’

How many times have I heard others… or myself … speak words that diminish or make light of the gifts, hopes and dignity of who we each are as human souls, bearers of great beauty, promise, love and capacity for receiving and giving grace?

How many times have do we accentuate our deficiencies or smallness for fear of making  too much of ourselves--or to lower expectations so others would not look to us for any truly important?

In such times, we truly are not in our right minds. Right-mindedness appears only in the presence of the power of love that frees us to discover and be who we are as gifted, graced, beautiful children of the Loving Father who hungers for us to know and live our true dignity.

The power of such love frees us from demons that possess that our eyes might glisten and our lives shine with the glory God intends.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 7:40-47

Then Jesus took him up and said, 'Simon, I have something to say to you.' He replied, 'Say on, Master.' 'There was once a creditor who had two men in his debt; one owed him five hundred denarii, the other fifty. They were unable to pay, so he let them both off. Which of them will love him more?' Simon answered, 'The one who was let off more, I suppose.' Jesus said, 'You are right.' Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, 'You see this woman? I came into your house, and you poured no water over my feet, but she has poured out her tears over my feet and wiped them away with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but she has been covering my feet with kisses ever since I came in. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. For this reason I tell you that her sins, many as they are, have been forgiven her, because she has shown such great love. It is someone who is forgiven little who shows little love.' 

Reflection

Do you see this woman?

Simon doesn’t. He doesn’t see that giving yourself away in love is the reason we exist.

He doesn’t see himself as a receiver of the wonder of divine love. The woman does, and that makes all the difference in the world.

He thinks he needs little from God and therefore receives little. He imagines he is less in need than this creature weeping at Jesus feet, and therefore he is much less than she is.

She is a truly human soul, but he has not yet arrived at this elevated state. And he will never arrive until he realizes he is in as much, no, greater need than she is.

His heart will not come to full flower, like hers, until he is filled with the awareness of God’s love touching, lifting, cherishing … him.

Until then, he will not … and cannot see. He can see neither himself, the woman or anything else because he sees not as a receiver of life but as one who imagines himself a master of life and living, who is a cut above the common run of humanity.

Only those who receive divine love, those who know their need, who receive each day, each moment, as the gift it is--not as an entitlement--are freed to live in love.

True life and joy begins in receiving. It is the simplest truth of all. Nothing could be more obvious. But so few see it.

At the beginning of our lives, we are utterly helpless, dependent on others for everything. We are a burning center of insatiable need, and others care for us or we die.

We are receivers and learn to love, to smile, to show joy and appreciation in connection with those who love us enough to make sure that we have what we need.

This doesn’t change even though we imagine that we need less as we are more able to care for ourselves. Even then we are utterly dependent on the love and care of others who make this world work, and we are utterly dependent on the secret, the magic, the spark that makes our bodies live, something that even our best science is yet to explain.

We receive this… every moment, whether we are aware of it or not. Every breath, every moment is a gift of life we simply receive.

Some lovingly cherish each gift of life, breath and love. They are truly human souls, who see.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday June 11, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 7:36-39

One of the Pharisees invited [Jesus] to a meal. When he arrived at the Pharisee's house and took his place at table, suddenly a woman came in, who had a bad name in the town. She had heard he was dining with the Pharisee and had brought with her an alabaster jar of ointment. She waited behind him at his feet, weeping, and her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them away with her hair; then she covered his feet with kisses and anointed them with the ointment. When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, 'If this man were a prophet, he would know who this woman is and what sort of person it is who is touching him and what a bad name she has.' 

Reflection

What do you see?

A woman with a bad reputation or a human soul who loves extravagantly? A histrionic display or an unshackled heart?

A generation ago Billy Joel sang that he’d “rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.” Jesus agrees with Billy. So do I.

When the saints, like this Pharisee, focus on properness and purity they are no fun and uninteresting. They are also blind to the only things that matter, loving, laughter and life.

And the Spirit of God is nothing if not the Spirit of life, laughter and love.

The Divine Spirit sets the heart free from its narrow constrictions to risk looking ridiculous, over-the-top and foolish for the sake of the love that bubbles at its core.

The Pharisee, Simon by name, lives comfortably within the constrictions of proprieties of law and convention, but I’d rather hang out with the woman who cried at Jesus feet and wiped them with her tears.

God knows, she’d make me nervous. I’d squirm in her presence because at age 60 there is still too damn much of Simon in me.

I learned social niceties quite young and was told the ‘nice people’ do the ‘right things’ don’t have bad reputations, and ‘good Christians’ are polite, respectful and don’t engage in unsettling emotional displays..

I should have known immediately that this was nonsense and had nothing to do with Jesus, but I guess I am a slow learner.

The woman would shame me, too. The free flow of her heart, shedding tears onto the feet of the soul who had healed her soul, reveals the hesitance of my heart, my tendency to hold back and be cautious. Such hesitancy resists the Spirit’s urge to praise and sing, laugh and weep at the crazy giddiness of the gospel of God’s illimitable love.

It also obscures the beauty and joy that would flow through me (and you) just as certainly as it does through this woman.

Weeping, pouring her heart onto Jesus feet, she is a compelling portrait of a soul set free, a heart come alive. She, not Simon, is the model of true humanity.

She invites us to throw our cautions to the wind, forget our self-protective proprieties and let ourselves feel … and express … the crazy love that is the Spirit within, hungry to be set free.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday June 6, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 7:12-15

Now when he was near the gate of the town there was a dead man being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a considerable number of the townspeople were with her. When the Lord saw her he felt sorry for her and said to her, 'Don't cry.' Then he went up and touched the bier and the bearers stood still, and he said, 'Young man, I tell you: get up.' And the dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him to his mother. 

Reflection

I am here in this basement room, a safe place away to listen and hear, to see life with clarity and compassion, myself, too.

And doing this, I enter into the way of Jesus, the path of Spirit, a way of seeing life and death, struggle and joy and being moved to compassion for my life, the lives of others and the needs of the world.

This is the way of Jesus.

He comes to town with his friends and meets a parade of death on the way to the cemetery. He comes and sees, and seeing he is moved to stop the death march right there, moved with compassion to give life.

I hardly do this in this quiet room where gentle music plays. Or in my small way, is more happening that I imagine?

Sitting here, seeing myself and the hearts of others, I get ready for the day, preparing to walk the path of Spirit, the way of Jesus once more.

And even here I am seen and known by the One who sees us all and is moved with compassion on all that is in and around us that kills our souls and weighs us beneath burdens of sadness.

Don’t cry, he says to us. I see. I see and I love … you. I see, and I give you life and always will.

I see and tell you to get up and live in a world where I am and I love.

Once more, the Voice he is invites me to live and enter his way, to see and be moved, to see and act with care, knowing that I, too--we, too--are here to stop the parade of death and sadness, to give life and joy--no, to be life and to be joy.

But it all starts with the One who sees … each of us … and says, do not weep, do not fear. You are seen and known, never forgotten and always treasured.

So, get up … and live.

Pr. David L. Miller

Today’s text

Luke 7:12-15

Now when he was near the gate of the town there was a dead man being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a considerable number of the townspeople were with her. When the Lord saw her he felt sorry for her and said to her, 'Don't cry.' Then he went up and touched the bier and the bearers stood still, and he said, 'Young man, I tell you: get up.' And the dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him to his mother. 

Reflection

Jesus gave her life back to her. He gave the son’s life back to him, too. Jesus gives life.

The message is clear enough, and we lose it when we focus too heavily on the miracle, asking questions for which we have no answers: Was the man really dead? Did Jesus really raise him? If so, how?

And … can I believe in a miracle like this?

Focus all your energy there and you miss the message. You spend all your time fixating on the wondrous elements of the story that you fail to hear Jesus words, spoken directly to your heart and mind.

"Don’t cry," is the first word. There are many kinds of tears: tears of joy, tears that flow when we feel deeply from the core of who we are, and tears of sorrow, of course.

The mother’s tears are from obvious sorrow. She has lost her son, and more: She has lost her only means of support in this ancient society. She has no husband, no son and certainly her society had no social security, no insurance, no pension system, no food stamps or Medicaid to care for her.

Losing her son, she was destitute and had plenty to cry about. But don’t, Jesus tells her. I am here, and I am for you. What I am you soon shall see, for I am life and where I am life, well, lives, flows, flourishes and breathes joy and peace.

So, don’t cry, just know this.

And the second word: “Young man, I tell you: get up."

Just get up. The power to do so is in you. You deny it; you doubt it, but the love and grace I am awakens it in you. Know me. Hear me. And get up.

Get up and live. That is what I want for you … and from you. I want you to live letting loose of the fullness the Loving Creator planted in you to beautify and grace his world.

I do not want you to live a half-way, colorless existence, but a life filled with the energy and confidence of one who knows there are great gifts in your mind and soul to be enjoyed, celebrated and shared.

So get up and be what you are, what the Loving Mystery has made you, no more cutting and curbing your words and actions to fit the expectations and boxes in which you and others enclose youself.

This yields sadness and dissatisfaction and dishonors the One whose breath animates your body and soul.

So get up. Get up and live. Make no apologies for who you are. Throw your heart into the day and give yourself to every moment. Get up and live.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, May 31, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 7:6-10

So Jesus went with them, and was not very far from the house when the centurion sent word to him by some friends to say to him, 'Sir, do not put yourself to any trouble because I am not worthy to have you under my roof; and that is why I did not presume to come to you myself; let my boy be cured by your giving the word. For I am under authority myself, and have soldiers under me; and I say to one man, "Go," and he goes; to another, "Come here," and he comes; to my servant, "Do this," and he does it.' When Jesus heard these words he was astonished at him and, turning round, said to the crowd following him, 'I tell you, not even in Israel have I found faith as great as this.' And when the messengers got back to the house they found the servant in perfect health. 

 Reflection

This story is either a club to beat ourselves with or an invitation to hope and life, love and trust. We can wallow in guilt for our poor, weak faith, or we can choose the invitation.

I choose the invitation to life and love. Here goes.

I have no idea what happened to the centurion who sought healing for his servant. There is no reference to whether he became a disciple or simply lived out his life following orders, until he retired someplace quiet and tried to enjoy the rest of his life.

Whatever happened to him he lived at least one perfect moment when he epitomized what it means to be truly human and blessed. For one moment he trusted that there is a Love loose in the world that hungers to heal what is most broken in us--our hearts and hopes, our fears and losses.

For one moment he truly trusted the Presence of that Love and sent his petty anxieties packing because he knew that Love would bless him and the one for whom his heart hungered.

For one moment he revealed the simple trust to which Love invites us.

It was a moment of rare beauty he may have known but once. But in that moment, his words of total trust in Jesus, as the Word of Love, show us the life God wants for us.

There is a Love who hungers for my wholeness … and yours, a Love who hungers for you to be whole and happy, fulfilled and joyful, free and at peace.

We call that Love ‘God’ in our tradition, and the centurion certainly thought he saw the walking, talking presence of that Love in Jesus.

This Love cannot be confined to any one time, place or person, of course. That is what the Resurrection means. It is always present and real, alive and active.

It’s hard to believe this sometimes, perhaps all the time.

Everyday crises are at hand, at least in my work. There are people who are dying despite their determined, brave, noble fight against incurable disease. Others face money problems, failing marriages or the simple disappointments of not getting what you want and may rightly deserve.

We can either stew in our juices, picking at our wounds or decide to live … this day … now; trusting the Love that is present will meet us on our way, amid the day, although we may not always recognize its disguises.

It will be there. I should say, the Christ, the Love … is there … every moment. So every moment, or at the very least once each morning, pray the centurion’s prayer, “Say the word, Precious Love; say the word and heal this aching soul. I know you can.”

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Today’s text

John 14:16-17

I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you for ever, the Spirit of truth whom the world can never accept since it neither sees nor knows him; but you know him, because he is with you, he is in you. 

Reflection

Too often we look at Jesus and see the immense gulf that separates from him. He seems so unreal, so unworldly, or so we make him in our minds.

But when he says he and the Father are one, he is speaking not only of his life but ours, especially when he promises to send the Spirit, the Paraclete/Helper who will abide is us, filling us with … the same thing that filled him--awareness of the immense love that is the Father.

The Spirit comes, abides within to bring intimate union with God and the power that comes from knowing who we are: bearers of the eternal mystery, just like Jesus, our brother.

The difference between him and us, I suppose, is that he allowed his heart and mind to continually abide in the mystery of that identity. Therefore, he spoke and acted--in every moment--from the depth of his union with the Father.

We act and speak so often moved by our fears and experience of feeling threatened, anxious and wounded. No way to live, it’s not life at all.

Life is to know what Jesus knew, the Abiding Spirit of God in-dwelling the heart and mind, giving trust and peace, allowing the full power in our being to pour out unhindered, and relishing the beauty of life and living as God intends.

We are not as different from him as we think. The Spirit that was in him is in us, so hindered and buried beneath the anxious drivenness of each day. It waits for us to stop and listen, clear away the noise and pay attention to life within us that wants to live … or shall I say to come out and play in the beauty of the day?

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, May 3, 2013

 Today’s text

John 14:23

Jesus replied: Anyone who loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we shall come to him and make a home in him.

Reflection

We must nurture and protect a personal preserve of holiness within our being, a space, a place of solitude where the Christ presence may dwell and where we may commune with him.

Prayer in all of its forms is the process of nurturing this intimate space within. It is a way of keeping Jesus word, of opening of ourselves and welcoming his being that the Spirit he is may dwell richly in us, too.

Failing this, our inner-most soul, the deep inner womb where Christ seeks to live in us will collapse from the press of life filling us, leaving little room within for his being to live in us.

This is why inner communion with Christ is so rarely found among modern men and women. And it is why we fail to have the peace that only inner communion provides, a peace the world cannot give.

So perhaps we must say the name, repeat his name in the morning hours and through the day, an ancient form of prayer that opens our being to receive the substance of his soul.

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus … say it on the breath. Speak it in the rhythm of life passing in and out of your lungs, for his word, that is to say his being, is life to the soul. Speak it and breathe in the beauty of the one who blessed children and reached out to heal, who cast out demons and drove away those who burdened human souls with unnecessary rules and regulations.

All we need is what is in him. So return again and again this day to the name. Speak it as you work and drive, walk and work. He will come and dwell in the inner room of your soul, driving out all pretenders to the place where only he belongs. In that holy space, he will speak peace to you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, April 26, 2013

Today’s text

John 13:35

It is by your love for one another, that everyone will recognize you as my disciples.

Reflection

Visions are fleeting. Moments of illumination come and go. They appear and quickly pass, fading in the mind’s eye before you are barely aware of them.

Yet, the images sometimes stick, enduring in the mind for decades, perhaps even for a lifetime, continuing to tell you everything you need to know.

They come at odd moments, like sitting in a coffee shop talking to a student, explaining stories you have visited a hundred times, only this time is different for reasons you will never understand.

One story was the tiny episode (three or four verses) of Jesus welcoming and blessing children others sought to shoo away. The other was the healing of a blind man who had nothing to offer Jesus but his blindness and his desire to see.

The stories were about open hearts eager to receive--and about one heart eager to give.

But they transported my mind and heart far beyond ancient times and biblical pages to deep recesses of the mind where a vision appeared and stopped me in mid-sentence, not once but several times, as tears clouded my eyes.

I saw faces, faces with million-watt smiles, wiped free of every anxiety and fear, of all suffering and threat. Nothing clouded their eyes.

I saw smiles on people known to me, people who endure trials and live with intractable situations, all of them whole and well, complete and happy, shining like sun, for the sun was shining … in them.

They were lit up from within with a joy and life that brought tears to my eyes and peace to my heart. They were enclosed beneath a grand arc that covered them. It arched high above them and all that is, holding everything together in a great protective shield.

I saw no sun, only the light in their eyes and the glory of their joy.

What does one make of such a moment, for a moment is all it was although it endures vividly in the mind? An illusion? Wishful thinking? A prayer for what I want?

Or is it an illumination, a vision of how things ultimately are?

How one answers depends on whether you are a skeptic, agnostic or seized by faith and hope. I am the latter, and I receive my coffee shop vision as a gift that tells me everything I need to know, a gift moved by ancient stories of a Loving Mystery more eager to bless than I am to receive.

All things, all I love, all that this Loving One loves will shine like the sun--and even now dwell under the protective arc of Love Itself.

So smile, be at peace and love all you do and see this day. It is the only fitting service of the One who gives vision.

Pr. David L. Miller