I find the sacred hidden in…

The sacred is found with and among the homeless. The presence of the Divine is transfigured and exalted in relationship with the poor and marginalized. The loving presence of God manifests in tangible and mystical ways in the lives of the exiled. It is as if the creator of the universe comes to breathe life into his alternative kingdom, knowing that the church and its practitioners will never really understand what, “my kingdom on earth as it is in heaven” really means. As I avail myself to people in great need, I find a God less concerned with charity, good works, or other well-meaning descriptors of service. I find a God whose identity and character are expressed in a mercy and justice rooted in unwavering welcome and inclusion. A God who desires the mutuality of giving and receiving, the broken body of Christ, shared and remembered. The Spirit of this God is abundant and nourishing, offering shade and shelter to all who seek rest under the branches of eternal community. Coming to rest in the love of this divine presence, the sacred hides under the very nose of our culture’s gardens of transactional judgment. The hidden sacred love of God is less like a manicured lawn and more like a compost bin, churning and restoring our old stories and narratives into something new and useful for our ordinary lives.

“Come, everyone who thirsts;

come to the waters;

and you who have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without price (Isaiah 55:1 NRSVUE).”

What do you want…

I want to be free of all thoughts rooted in other people’s assumptions and expectations. I want to be at peace with the reality of life and my role in it. I don’t want to be distracted and miss the blessings that are upon me. Contentment is found when we accept the reality of God’s love. We accept ourselves when we receive the reality of God’s love. We find contentment when we stop and notice the still small voice speaking truth to power. Freedom from the false self that was formed from the voice of abuse and neglect. Freedom to walk in the power and boldness of Christ. To be covered and baptized in the words of God the Father, “You are my beloved son with whom I am well pleased.” I want to be known and understood. I want to give voice to those who are voiceless, transforming the belief that some of us don’t have anything to say. Transforming the belief that some of us are not entitled with privilege and anointing. Freedom from the notion of deservedness. Some are invited and others are not on the guest list. To be fully myself in all circumstances. Sensitive, funny, and at peace. In the words of 80’s hair metal, I want to rock!

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead (Philippians 3:10-11).”

What do you notice on your walk…

Today I went on a walk from my office to the St Francis House. I passed the streetcar, elementary school, and corner store. I was delighted to see that you could buy a cup of coffee from the East African deli for $2.50! I was blessed to see kids playing hide and seek with the recess monitor. When I hear kids running around screaming and yelling on a playground, I am reminded of how silent elementary schools were during the Covid lock downs. Playgrounds should be cathedrals of joy and discovery. There are men in reflective vests directing traffic on 12^th Ave. I enjoy the construction workers that pause and acknowledge me. The clergy collar I wear is its own traffic cone, observed, dismissed, or respected. There is a weird box in front of the St Francis House which I assume is a bizarre donation of something they will probably have to throw away. I am greeted by a homeless man who tells me he isn’t feeling well. He asks me what I’m up to. I tell him I like to get coffee, hang out and chat. I tell him about walking pneumonia as he washes up with hand sanitizer. The prayer of St Francis is next to the counter and above the bookcase. It provides a stark contrast to the five cans of black beans and bottle of salad dressing on the community pantry shelf. Staring at the prayer, a woman asks to join me, and we talk about her desire to discern God’s will for her life.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

I am amazed…

The amazement I feel when I am praying on the street is indescribable. Years of waiting and listening to the Holy Spirit in front of bus stops, alley ways dumpsters, and grocery store stairwells, I find myself surrounded by the love of Christ. It’s in these places of desperation and loneliness that the God that seeks out the lost manifests. The kingdom of God is to be found among the meek, hungry, and persecuted. The words of Jesus transform wounds into resurrection, containers of healing, held together by sharing, remembering, and participation. Body broken for us. Everyone invited into the divine mystery. Everyone created in the image of God. The cross of Christ. Shared suffering. Ours is his and his is ours. Compassion means to suffer with. Touch my scars and find truth. The truth of trauma, The truth of healing. The living word is vulnerable empowerment, enabling us to walk through the doors of neglect and abuse, navigate the hallways of deception, and find rest in the upper rooms of his eternal kindness. Amazing!

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me (John 14:6).”

Michael Cox