brian shivers

The divine dwells  in the "yes" beckoning us  toward the "and"... encompassing all things as deep  calls to deep.  The "yes"  is the acknowledgment of the space, the moment,  the experience  in which we find ourselves  in present tense.  Not a fatalistic demand  to be thankful  for that which  is taking place.  Rather, a call  toward awareness of presence now. "Yes, here I am."  Even here  I am not  alone.  The "and"  beckons us  forward  no matter what  toward the depth  of that which we don't  understand  about existence,  about experience, about personhood,  about the divine. The "and" gives assent  to the mystery  of what is  yet to be  discovered  that which perhaps  may already be  or that which we  are invited  to co-create.  In this acknowledgment,  in this vulnerability, in this "yes, and"... we f

(a poem) When I think of me I must consider multiplicity. For there isn't just one of me. There is the me you see; as well as the one      I'm perceived to be; there is also the person      I want others to believe is me; and the one you think I should be; but the most dangerous one      to me is the me I have come      to believe I must be based on the illusions      of so many expectations of me. All of this multiplicity throws shade on the beauty of me the one birthed in singularity through the original      blessing of divinity. This is the real me: enough, beloved, accepted, born to be none other than me. May you too find      peace in this mystery that you are the you      you were always meant to be. This marks the end      of multiplicity.

Fear has no place      in gospel. Fear of someone being treated equally      is not gospel. Fear of someone's skin tone      is not gospel. Fear of who someone worships      is not gospel. Fear of the land from which someone hails      is not gospel. Fear of the accent with which someone speaks      is not gospel. Fear of who someone else is attracted to      is not gospel. Fear of the pronouns which someone uses to identity themselves      is not gospel. Fear of someone's mother tongue      is not gospel. Fear of someone's religious devotion or clothing      is not gospel. Fear of someone's dietary habits or lack thereof      is not gospel. Fear of missing out on something "deserved" because someone's basic needs are being met      is not gospel. Fear of someone's individuality or identity      is not gospel. Fear has no place      in gospel.

(a poem) I don't need      to understand the science           the hows and the whats. I don't need      to believe in the God           you name and you praise. I need to care. I need to know      that my children      your children      and our children's           children's           children      around the world will breathe      the air           we now share will inherit      the earth           we leave behind for better      for worse. May we live      passionately      fully with them      in our mind,      in our heart,      in the manner           in which we care for the planet      we inhabit           today.

(a poem) There is no threat  to self  in treating others, in seeing others, in honoring others as independent  selves  worthy of  being seen, worthy of being accepted, worthy of  being loved as they are beautifully, magnificently, fully human.  

(a poem) Indeed, I am      scoundrel...      saint... yes, and      cowardly...      brave... yes, and      fragile...      strong... I am      unlovable...      precious... yes, and      uncertain...      confident... yes,  and      fearful...      courageous... I am      judgmental...      gracious... yes, and      intolerant...      loving... yes, and      broken...      beautiful... I am Indeed.

(a poem) Faith is not a possession; nor is it a measure of righteousness or personal piety. Faith is not something that separates me from you or anyone else; nor is it an object of oppression, a weapon of war, or a tool of torture. Faith is that in which we participate everyday. Faith is the grand counter-narrative to the fatalistic notion that nothing will ever change. Faith is living into the invitation to see the world in a new way. Faith is our active response as coauthors in the story, co-creators in this journey we share. Faith is.

(a poem) Startled awake by hope, longing, or fear. Was it a dream? Was it true? If just a dream how can we live as if it were something more; something real? If the rumors are true we may wonder, "What's next?" Either way things will never be the same; we can never be the same because of yesterday.

(a poem for Easter) Unwrap the alleluias. Do so gently if you must. There is no right way for it to be done. Shout it boldly for all to hear. Alleluia! Whisper it gently into the wind. alleluia. Be patient with one another; with your self. We are all still finding out what it means that the tomb is empty. Sometimes the declaration "He is risen" is punctuated with a faint question mark; sometimes a bold exclamation point. Perhaps, perhaps today it should be ellipsis . . . This work, this resurrection continues. It is not complete without us. Alleluia, He is risen . . .

(a poem) Empires  and institutions will never understand  Love Love cannot be  codified; commodified; controlled. Love  is risky; behaves erratically;  will not bow down. Love  places humanity first; demands equality; leads to sacrificial living. Love cannot be  vanquished; eliminated; destroyed. Love  wins, even at the cost of itself. 

(a poem) Every path is rocky; Every journey is treacherous; Every road is unsteady; Every way is crowded; Every walk is lonely; Every passage is dangerous; Every pilgrimage is difficult.   Yet  we walk anyway.  One step at a time; one fierce  determined step after  the one before and prior to the next.  Our feet may be bloodied; our knees battered and bruised; our ego cracked and stained; we walk anyway.   We are not alone for there are fellow travelers  on their own  arduous trek. Our odysseys often run parallel to one another; at times they intersect, but theirs isn't yours  nor yours theirs  but we walk anyway  simultaneously.  Understanding the struggle  is unique  but not isolated.  We walk anyway.  It is what we are meant to do.  One step at a time; one fierce  determined step after another always  moving forward toward God knows what.  We walk anyway.

False binaries are destroyed in the person of  Jesus - divine/human; spirit/flesh; heaven/earth; clean/unclean; sacred/secular; saved/lost; life/death; you/me.

Faith cannot be reduced to  a litmus test; a shibboleth; a magic formula; a wordy incantation: a list of dos; a list of don'ts; a set of "right" beliefs; a self help program; a prescription; a secret handshake; a code word; a hidden door.

On Palm/Passion Sunday let us be careful not to confuse a donkey with a stallion, palm branches waving with saber rattling, and shouts of hosanna with battle cries.

(a poem) Did his soul ascend to heaven? And what about the mother who suckled him at her breast before drowning in the sea? And the souls of Emmett and Medgar; Carole, Cynthia, and Addie Maye; James Earl, Andrew, and Michael Henry; Trayvon and Tamir; Sandra and Eric; Matthew and Chyna; Srinivas and Razan? Is there room for such as these behind the golden gates, or is heaven merely a reflection of our unjust earthly existence counting the privileged in and all others out - in heaven as it is on earth? Nah. Let us live into the hope that the opposite is true where all souls of all hues, all ethnicities, all creeds, all identities, all orientations, are fully welcome on earth as it is in heaven.

Love is hard... Love asks difficult things of all of us; Love asks that we see one another as humans; Love asks that we treat one another as beloved; Love asks that we seek the good for one another no matter what; Love asks that we strive to see through someone else's eyes; Love asks that we not prejudge; Love asks that we look beyond self; Love asks that we open the borders of our heart; Love asks that we consider humanity before rules and regulations; Love asks that we give not out of vanity or piety; Love asks that we stand up for those who cannot; Love asks that we sit down with those who are weary; Love asks that we speak up not for but on behalf of those whose voices have been stolen; Love asks that we remain quiet to listen to the voices that challenge our preconceptions; Love asks that we move when we would rather sit still; Love asks that we act especially when our knees shake;  Love asks us to be uncomfortable;  Love asks no matter who,