In the stillness of early morning

This is a favorite time of day for me, this early morning, with a cup of coffee, and time for God.


It allows me the space to prepare myself for each day, reminding myself always of whose I am, and who I serve.  That sense of true self can get lost in the busy-ness of each day.


So on this Cyber-Monday, take the time to reconnect yourselves to God, and breathe in the peace that truly passes all understanding.

May your day be one filled with cherished blessings and joy.


God’s will


I am reminded this morning of the great wisdom found in the words of our most blessed Julian of Norwich:

It is God’s will that we accept His promises and His comfortings as broadly and as powerfully as we can receive them.

And He also wills that we accept our waiting and our distress as lightly as we can take them, and pay no attention to them – for the more lightly we take them, and the less value we place on them for the sake of love, the less pain shall we have in experiencing them, and the more favor and regard will we have because of them.

Wise words indeed that travel the space of time and find relevance in the here and now.



There is hope, even when we least expect it.  It is here that we find respite from the incivility of the world, from the ludicrous nature of the 24/7 news cycle.


In our world which seems filled with despair, there is one certain way towards hope.

From the end of Psalm 27:

“Hope for the Lord!  Let your heart be firm and bold, and hope for the Lord.”

Sound advice in an insane world.


Going the distance


Perhaps, some days, we get too caught up at the distance we have to travel, and so we miss the path we are really on.

Remember that each day is a gift.  So, stop.  Pause.  Breathe.

Savor the path you are on right now, and trust the path of the future to God.

Because the now matters more than all of the ‘wonder ifs’ we think about.

God is here, right now.





Rose bushes have this amazing capacity to delight.  Especially when you have literally hacked them down to canes, cleaned them up and prayed for the best.

This hacking down and cleaning up resonates – we do it in our literal gardens, but do we tend as diligently the gardens of our souls?


Not often enough it seems.  It’s even harder work than pruning in January.  But, just like the rose bushes, when we tend to the interior garden of our souls, our souls begin to flourish.

To blossom.


And then to bloom in a riot of buds and color, unexpected and delightful.


Spend some time on yourself and tend your interior garden.  Give it the same nurturing love that you might lavish on your external garden, and when you have paused, remember to give thanks to the One who creates for the wonder of it all.


It’s been a long day …

There is an odd rhythm to being a priest.  We teach about sabbath and self-caring as we try to model that and carve out our own sabbath as we can, finding moments of peace amidst the chaos the seasons bring.


Moments and bursts of color after thunder squalls and lightning flashes and downpours.

Finding hope and beauty in this season of Lent.

In the busyness that enfolds us, our parishioners, our families and the world in general, I find peace in pausing, as I did tonight, to read the office of Compline, courtesy of the New Zealand Prayer Book, and I share with you this closing prayer:

Lord, it is night.  The night is for stillness.  Let us be still in the presence of God.

It is night after a long day.  What has been done has been done; what has not been done has not been done; let it be.

The night is dark.  Let our fears of the darkness of the world and of our own lives rest in you.

The night is quiet.  Let the quietness of your peace enfold us, all dear to us, and all who have no peace.

The night heralds the dawn.  Let us look expectantly to a new day, new joys, new possibilities.

In your name we pray.  Amen.





War-torn, damaged, dismayed.  Yet another school shooting.  And all I can say is enough.

This is not how we should live our lives – surrounded with fear and violence.  Regardless of blame or cause, we need to stand up and figure out a better way forward.

Our children should not have to live in fear.  Our educators should not have to live in fear.


World War I trench

These images were taken in Belgium/Flanders.  For me the image above conveys the horrors of war, the horrors of violence, of people trapped, of damage done, a metal labyrinth into the depths of a man-made hell.

My point in all of this, is that the cycle of violence – war, mass shootings, whatever name you want to give to it, must stop.

This is not how we are intended to live.

Instead of violence, why not peace.


Peace Pond created out of a bomb crater.

Why not hope and love.


Maybe, just maybe, we can be the change we need.  In this journey through Lent, perhaps the questions should be, Lord, how can I help?