One Night

One night,

God laughed so hard

that He dropped His purse

and all the stars fell out.


"Oh well," He said, "no use crying

over spilled love."

False Religion

People would rather lie than tell the truth

And admit they don't know.

Theology

How can a theologian know that God

is infinite and claim to know

all about Him?


How can he know that God is everywhere

and insist that his is the only way to

find Him?


Do you know?


It doesn't make much sense to me,

either.

Transfiguration

Crying last night,

I grabbed a friend

and--just for a moment--

his body became the Christ's.


It scared me a little,

and I've been smiling

ever since.

Leaves on a Branch

I must credit this thought to Saint

Catherine of Siena, who first

wrote it in a poem.


She insisted that death isn't real,

that we are each a leaf

on a branch.


We bud and grow,

changing, changing,

until we feel the Fall Wind and

let go of all we thought

we loved and hated,

embracing the Light.


Isn't that neat?


We don't die,

we just Blow Away.

Showers

I awoke to the piercing sound of my alarm clock, pressed the snooze button, and settled back into my sheets to enjoy nine more minutes of blissful sleep.

Behind my eyelids, an epic scene of anguish greeted me:


I stood on an ancient hill outside Jerusalem watching three men die.

The One in the center, drenched in blood, beckoned me closer with what little movement He could achieve in His fingers.

With each step I could see in more vivid detail the horrors afflicted upon His body--flesh hung in tatters and blood poured down the wood, staining it a sickening crimson.

And yet . . .

As I drew closer, I could see water flowing from His side. Clean, fresh water gushing forth almost like a fountain.

Standing below the sunken Form, I looked up.

"This is for you," He grated out through parched and cracked lips, casting his gaze towards the Spring in His side.

Taking a hint, I stepped into the stream of water.

It poured down, covering me, drenching me, soaking me to the bone. Cold and warm at the same time, I found myself shivering as my pores simultaneously gaped open from the heat. The water penetrated every inch of my body, enveloping me: a beautiful flowing hug.

After a few moments in the glistening light, I stepped back to look up at Him.

He looked down at me.

"I can't always be this obvious, you know," He reminded me.

The faintest of His infinite smiles lifted my soul to Union, and then


My alarm clock went off for the second time, pulling me back into the physical world. I knew I couldn't ignore it this time. Resigning myself to being awake, I got out of bed and grabbed my towel.

In the bathroom, I stepped into the shower and turned the knobs. Water. I waited until it had warmed to an acceptable temperature, then I stepped into the refreshing, gushing stream and began to lather my body. I allowed the water to clean me, awaken me.

It wasn't until I was out of the shower, much later, that I remembered this experience and His words. It was a little while longer before it clicked and I could understand the message hidden there.

Can you see it?

What if God was a verb?

What if God was a verb?

If I said I "Goded" someone, what would that mean?

Did I hug them? Kiss them?

Paint them a picture?

Sing them a song?

Or did I simply Love them?



Friends, God is a Verb,

And He's always in the present tense.