Hearing Holiness

How foolish we are in believing that only those who attend church are spoken to by The Spirit. Every time a voice whispers to us that we are to help someone, even at great cost to ourselves, that is the voice of The Spirit of Holiness that endows our animal natures with the fullness of our humanity. Nobody else can hear the exact same message that is being whispered into my ear.

It is helpful to keep our minds open to correction, as was Abraham. What if he had closed his ears to the correction that he was not to offer blood sacrifice to his god by killing his son, but was to offer his own live flesh and blood and that of his son in service to his god? We may never have moved on to understanding that it is our lives that we must offer, not merely the deaths of someone or something special to us.

Often I get to quaking and shaking when I feel that I'm being sent on a mission for which I don't feel prepared. It's like the old hymn, "Every time I feel The Spirit moving in me, I'm afraid." Somehow, when what I hear is right, I'm given strength and knowledge that I had no idea I possessed. Other times, when I'm gearing up for action, something or someone will put roadblocks in my way, or lift the burden off my shoulders.

This happened when a dear friend was diagnosed with cancer. Her children, whom I had always felt were part mine, and I had little contact as they became adults. Several months before my friends surgery, her older daughter began a correspondence with me that reminded us how much we meant to each other.

My friend, who was quite convinced she would not survive, was in total peace with her impending death. She asked me to be available after her surgery so that her family could continue their busy lives uninterrupted. I was more than happy to agree. Her children then began to turn to me for adult information regarding their mother's condition. I remained open to their Spirits which were leading them to support each other, their steadfast father, and their mother's Spirit. I, against their parents wishes, encouraged them to do what their Spirits told them to do.

It was so beautiful seeing them all together, all at peace with the parts they were playing in dealing with their precious mother's impending death, even though it left me feeling very lonesome because I was not in the inner circle once they came together. I now realize that I was sent into the situation to broker their trust in their whispered voices of The Spirit. Some are meant to serve, not by action, but by listening. I may never be considered a Christian or a hero, but I like to believe I can be a good sister and friend.

Wonder as Worship

When I was a little girl I thought that rain was God crying
But the world is full of those who spend their lives, children's visions, denying.
I also thought the rays of evening light filtering through the clouds
Came off of God's fingers to touch each man, woman, and child.
This, too, was ridiculed as not in keeping with the Bible,
So I learned to keep to myself the visions with which my mind was full.

I am now sixty years old and my mind has fairly exploded
From trying to hide the visions with which my mind is loaded.
The mother of a friend of mine who starved herself to death
Had a favorite song that, I thought, her faith expressed.
She was told by the church people that her visions didn't fit in,
And that to question the authorities was a grievous sin.

What is left to those who want to shout out what they see:
The holiness in every person, animal, plant, you, and me?
Are we to take our visions and talents and take to our beds
Because the rejection of "those who know" is that which we dread?
Will we ever be allowed to sing out our child's faith praises
Without condemnation by those we are told are religion's sages?

Scapegoating and Salvation

As a child I was taught to avoid occasions of sin;
Anyone with different beliefs should not be let in.
I knew there were hypocrites who espoused beliefs
That they didn't practice; my distrust increased.
But the great WASP male powers that then ruled our world
Put not a whit of value on the questions of a girl.

Scapegoating is as old as the story of Adam and Eve;
It is easier to be angry than it is for us to grieve.
There are many things in life we don't understand;
This seems to be the biggest frustration of humans.
We'd rather destroy everything than to continue
Accepting things, about which, there's nothing we can do.

And then, there are those among us who feel very human
Because they won't eat animals, be they fish or ham.
Many of these same people have no problem refusing to see
The Jews, Muslims, Blacks and the poor closely resemble we.
I feel like an outsider because I can't come to terms
With the hatred that I see, in our nation, still burns.

I see people who treat their family's dogs and their cats
With more respect than they exhibit in human chats.
How we define humanity is still very important;
If I don't agree with you, doesn't mean you're hell bent.
If there's not enough space in heaven for all creation,
What is the point in all of our godly adoration?

We must be willing to respect each other's space;
Finding the path to salvation shouldn't be a race.
It seems to me that a Supreme Being wouldn't continue to create
Millennia of people who, to The Divine, can't relate.
I believe that we each are offered a suitable path;
That path, pursued with faith, won't incur The Almighty's wrath.

I also think that, in the final analysis of life,
Our salvation is in how we handle our and others' strife.
Those who think that they can hoard and leave others to suffer,
May be surprised to find they have only created a buffer
From the eventual balancing of all Creation's resources;
None of us are stronger than The Almighty Nature's Forces.

I was so proud when a black president was elected
I thought our nation, had prejudices, finally rejected.
All genders, races, creeds would have intelligent discourse;
This turned out to be such naivete, of course.
I pray every day for us to finally see that people,
No matter their color or gender, will one day, be seen as equal.

Willing Women

I think I may be a Jewish woman
Covered thinly by Gentile skin.
Those matriarchs of the Old Testament
Knew how to handle the strongest men.

There were women who led battles,
And women who used their feminine ways
To keep their people on the right path
To being eternally saved.

I'm tired of wimpy women
Whose husbands bully their young;
They hold their children hostage
To stay on society's higher rung.

A woman who uses her power for good,
I think is a pure delight;
To protect vulnerable people,
She's always willing to fight.

But there are so many women
Who have given away their power
Preferring to stand behind
The security or pleasure of the hour.

Religion is meant to tame humans
And temper our animal natures.
Those who back down to bullies
Will always live in their fears.

Serenity and The Spirit

My girlfriend who lived next to me when she and I were birthing our babies blogged today about the fruits of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I have another gal pal that I've known even longer than that. She lived next to me from the time I was six until I was married at age eighteen. She and her furry, four-legged "babies" came to spend the night so that we could take the babies on their first-ever romp on the beach.

Between our two homes their were a total of twelve children, four boys and eight girls. She and my deceased little sister were inseparable, and thought nothing of challenging even the most monstrous of the men in our lives. This friend took over the running of her mother's household when her mother took to her bed, which was most of every day.

To say that this friend was a scrapper in our youth would be a gross understatement. We both came from very abusive "Christian" households where forgiveness wasn't even possible without serious punitive penance being first served. The only way she knew to solve a problem was to come out swinging; it was either that or take to her own bed. This simply wasn't her nature, and somebody had to keep things going at her house. Needless to say, this friend developed some sharp edges. I contend that these situations mess up the sibling dynamic because the in-charge sibling isn't seen as an equal to the other children.

My sister was this friend's sister. In a sense I too was a sister to her, but she saw me as her older sister since I was a year and a half older than she was. Being an older sibling in our homes meant that I was no fun and not to be trusted not to snitch. Little did my siblings know that I'd rather have my tongue cut out than to report them to the monsters. I finally had to stop watching what they were doing in their rage against the hypocrisy of our "faith."

Now this friend is the picture of peace and tranquility. She has taken on the care of her parents in their last years and seems to fairly float through her daily life. Never did I think she could become so serene. Even with the misuse of religion in our homes, she somehow soaked up the knowledge of needing to connect to a Holy Spirit inside herself and her parents.

She has tried finding it in church, but continued to feel hypocrisy coming from that community. She's now a devotee of yoga, where she has obviously connected to The Spirit as is seen in the fruits that she now displays: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. How beatifically beautiful she has become!

Competition and Religion

Is was important that Jesus be a modern man,
Part of the lineage of Abraham's clan,
So we'd understand that the world he was sent to create
Was the kingdom of The Eternal Estate.

We were taught that Abraham arose from the dead,
But death, we humans continued to dread,
And so we were given, once again,
A person to embody The Eternal plan.

He didn't embrace death, but was willing to give
His life and death to teach us how to live.
Do we accept that Jesus' Jewish ancestors who came before
Are still needlessly knocking on salvation's door?

Or, are we to realize that we are all sisters and brothers
Even if we were born to different fathers and mothers?
I hope it is the latter; it seems our only hope for peace,
Our only hope that religious competition will cease.

Swearing on the Sacred

I believe we have a power stronger than our courts
To which people of loving communities could resort.
Or are we happy with the way our world is currently turning?
Instead of talking to each other, we keep our anger burning.
Our courts are a sad joke when people swear on a book
That our society, long ago perverted, and many forsook.

We swear oaths to a force in which many don't believe,
Can we continue to pretend that we're not all being deceived?
If a person loves a spouse, a child, or even a pet,
An oath sworn on their heads may be a safer bet.
Oaths sworn on anything in which we don't passionately believe
Are simply an easy way to, true believers, deceive.

This turns mother against father and father against mother;
The deceits repeat themselves in our sisters and brothers.
What is so difficult about admitting to those we love that we erred?
Is judgment by our community that of which we're scared?
If we confess to each other in the company of only those who love,
Don't we think we'd get some help from The Power up above?