Monday, July 07, 2014

When You Stop Walking on Water

For those stepping out of parish ministry


The rhythms are different
this side of the pulpit.
Like walking ashore
after hours
or weeks
on rocking waves,
your sea legs may persist awhile,
unsteadying your gait
and haunting your dreams
with the sensation of motion
in the midst of unmoving crowds.

You will look up at the night sky
and forget you do not have to plot a course
between the rocks and the reef,
charting seasons and casting stories
by force of longstanding habit.

You may not miss the grueling hours
or the demands of captaining your crew,
the churn of stomach in stormy waters
or the constant vigilance for dangers hidden
just below the surface,
but at times you will look out upon the shining, shifting ocean
and find yourself unmoored by dazzling splendor
or grim eternity,
the tides that keep on changing
while you are standing still.

There are blessings in this landlubber's life,
as all the throngs who never went to sea
can easily testify.
But have patience with yourself
as you relearn how to walk on solid ground.
For you have seen beyond the horizon
and you yet carry with you
the knowledge of winds and weather,
rising and falling,
harnessing the elements
to move through time and space.

Here, too, is Sabbath
and starlight
and soaring toward mystery,
even in stillness.
Even on land.

© 2014 Kerry Greenhill

A Blessing for Those Beginning a New Ministry Appointment

to be read with the tongue positioned gently in the cheek

May your car start easily and your keys turn smoothly to open the church doors;
may your accompanist arrive early and your liturgist be on time.
May you accurately gauge the height of chancel steps and the length of your robe,
and may your microphone amplify your voice without ear-splitting feedback.
May your sermon notes remain in order and your mouth not get too dry;
may your insights find a landing place in ears and hearts and minds.
May your congregation welcome you with grace and hospitality,
and wait until you’ve learned their names before triangulating you in their drama.
May your preaching be genuine and your own heart be fully present,
and may the Holy Mystery surround and fill and meet you in this new place,
today and each day that you are here.

© 2014 Kerry Greenhill

Wednesday, January 08, 2014

Water Breaks

Another new year, another renewed commitment to writing. But this year I have a plan, and even with a baby on the way, I really will make it happen!

Here's a prayer-poem for the Baptism of Jesus, which is this Sunday. 

Water Breaks

Frozen, it expands
until it cannot be contained
by pipes too fixed and firm
in their places. 

Rushing, it roars 
through canyons and down streambeds
washing away dust, 
mud, rock, road,
truck, house, church, 
town. 

Pulsing, it pours
or trickles down the legs
after months of suspending 
a growing miracle
as another woman 
crosses the threshold
toward meeting her descending child. 

Lapping, it opens
as a man's head emerges
from the quiet murky mystery
into shimmering, dove-shaped
light. 

Dripping and dancing, it blesses
infant, child, youth, adult
with the grace that goes before us, 
tearing down walls 
between sisters and brothers,
smashing the chains of alienation,
anger, judgment, fear, 
addiction, apathy, despair,
and death. 

May the water within you
and around you
break 
in ways that make life
and wholeness
more possible each day. 



Permission is granted to use this prayer-poem in worship. Please acknowledge with (c) Kerry Greenhill, 2014.