Author: robertalanrife

I have spent the better part of my life as a professional musician. Primarily, that has meant the fun and challenging world of church music. Most recently, I have transitioned out of my role as worship and music director for Yakima Covenant Church, Yakima, Washington to global service in Edinburgh, Scotland. I'm a singer-songwriter, liturgist, poet, and writer. I love words. I love to read them. I love to write them. Most of all, I love the many intersections, like a sacramental tapestry, of life, liturgy, literature, the arts, and spiritual formation...oh, and I love haggis.

Now…?

On By robertalanrifeIn Christianity, faith, life together, sacramental living17 Comments

I posted this last year at this time for the express purpose of guiding our feelings, raw and bloody, to begin to find their way back to our minds, murky and afraid and, as a result, begin the process of reintegration and healing. For Newtown…

Now, as we peer into the dead sky and from horrible places within us we didn’t know we could feel we say, what now…?

now, as dust settles and the terrifying picture of the new day becomes pungently clear…

now as brothers and sisters, their mutually constructed lego house still proudly standing on the cold living room floor, sits empty and unfinished…

now, as Moms and Dads, the shrill heaviness of grief still shredding their throats, their unslept, red eyes looking aimlessly forward to futures never lived…

now, as beds left from the night before where once a young life snuggled her doll, his teddy bear, sheets now cold and tousled with no more purpose but to wrap up more pain…

now, as a community, once certain of its place in the world, of its face and the sound of its collective heartbeat loses its own soul and its sense of decency and truth…

now, when the carefully crafted words of political rhetoric begin the inevitable ping-pong game of tit for tat, wrong and right vs. rights and wrongs, begins its forward march…

now, in a nation already riddled with divisions that cut to the bone, brother against brother, father against son, mother against daughter-in-law, in an insistent need to be right…

now, when rage soon replaces grief, outrage replaces reason and vengeance replaces peace…

…now comes the true test of Christian virtue: how to forgive and love one who turned an angry rifle on innocent, blind-sided children, teachers and parents. Despite what we all may believe on the issues involved, everyone grows up surrounded by those who support them or don’t, love them or don’t, see them or don’t. For reasons known only to God, this young man found the darkest places within himself and, from those places, lashed out in acts of unspeakable violence.

I write this from the quiet of my living room, both of my beautiful boys nearby, my wife enjoying the quiet of a Sunday afternoon. Therefore, I will not shame the memories of those dear, lost souls, ripped from their yet-to-be-lived lives, by claiming I have any idea what the parents and friends are enduring right now. I can say only this with authenticity, if it were me now living their hell, I would most certainly be shaking fists at both the gunman and the very God I serve who seemingly did nothing to prevent him.

And yet, it is precisely at such times as these, when fires are burning around us, when blank-faced murderers stare out at the world through dead eyes, when the cries of childless mothers are heard in the streets, when communities are forced to pick up the jagged pieces and rebuild, that we must find it in ourselves to stop the cycle of violence; not simply by changing laws of one kind or another; not just by delving into solutions for all of the maladies at play, whether social, spiritual, mental or physical, but to say with an unjustly murdered Jesus, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”

Lord, have mercy.

I saw you today

On By robertalanrifeIn faith, life together, sacramental living, spiritual formation, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Tomorrow, Saturday, December 14th, marks the one year anniversary of something unspeakably wrong.

I posted this just under a year ago on my Litbits blog. I posted it then primarily as poetry aimed at dealing with my own shock and outrage at such an atrocity and, hopefully, to aid in our mutual healing over the shared sense of grief and shame. A year later, I post it here at innerwoven because it was a scenario deeply illustrative of the overwhelming but often neglected needs of a human soul. This is what happens when sickness, either of soul or mind or both, is left untouched or worse, unnoticed. Any statements needing to be made from socio-political, policy places I leave for others.

A year later…Lord, have mercy.

* * *

Dedicated to the 26 sweet souls whose tears, now dried, fears now abated, pain now gone and thirst now assuaged can rest tucked in the bosom of God. From our vantage of dark remembrance and empty ache we remember you. We remember you.

I saw you today.

You wiped your nose on the new sweater Grandma made for you.

I saw you today

picking up the rabbit by her ears a little too rough. When she scratched your arm you cried.

I saw you today

fighting with your sister over the last of the McDonald’s fries, a Happy Meal’s empty promise.

I saw you today

playing with the other kids in the nasty ball pit that smelled suspiciously like pee and bleach.

I saw you today

crying over losing your Auntie Doris’s broach you had silently stolen from Mom’s bureau.

I saw you today

yelling at your brother to stop bouncing you so hard on the see-saw.

I saw you today

at your piano recital. You played a piece from “Chopin for Kids.”

I saw you today

through the window as you were coloring something. You chewed on your tongue.

I saw you today

as the school nurse dried your tears while applying the bandage to your wounded shin.

It’s Saturday,

I didn’t see you today.

Photo courtesy of www.funtasianyc.com

Stop shouting

On By robertalanrifeIn Life of Rob, Waxing PoeticLeave a comment

Warning: not for kids! Oftentimes, the most inhumane violence done to others is that which we inflict through our passive-aggressive silences. Sometimes a punch to the face is easier than seeing the back of someone else’s apathetically silent head. I explore that a bit in this rather visceral piece.

My ears are ringing, ringing,

ringing from the deafening roar of stony silence.

Someone has been shouting at me for so long

without stopping,

never stopping,

ever.

The lids of my ears are pinned back

as scenes of your violent ennui pelt my psyche.

Ghoulish shrieks of the banshee gash holes in my bowels

and any remains of touch and sound lay shredded and splayed

on the table, once of communion, now of refuse.

Quickly, cut open my gut with a heated knife of angry words.

Split my head with the axe of honest, unimplied hatred.

It is more compassionate to watch another bleed,

their blood still wet on the tip of your axe than it is

to watch through a mirror as another

squirms and writhes under the torturers knife

of guesses, unanswered questions, pale assumptions, made up half-truths.

Like the wanderer, banished and scapegoated,

the unforgiven walk in barren, featureless landscapes

peppered with the memories of better days.

The shrieks of silence are so much louder

than the shouting of angry, cutting…but honest, words.

Wordless words spill out into the aether

through sealed lips, drowning in their own denial

of non-communication. Oh, I hear. I hear. I hear,

SO STOP YOUR FUCKING SHOUTING.

Your victims are only fed enough sanctimony to forbid reality,

deny context, withhold boundaries for the untold story.

The din of merciless words is quicker,

the pain, short; the gouching, swift.

Silent pain is relentless, without pity,

casting scorn through indifference,

hatred through unspoken speech,

unforgiveness through apathy,

vengeance through willing ignorance.

_

In seeking truth, you’ve become the biggest lie.

Friends, fellowship, fun, frolic and…a contest

On By robertalanrifeIn life together, sacramental living, spiritual formation2 Comments

From time to time God bowls me over with a renewed sense of God’s faithfulness, goodness and, frankly, sense of humor. Many of my best life experiences can find their way back to times spent with quality people discussing quality things for quality reasons. These are the times that refresh me when too much rust builds up on the underbelly of my life. Good friend, fellow blogger and writer, Chadwick Walenga, is celebrating new pathways of grace in his life together with a wonderful woman, Amy. (Follow them on Twitter).Chadwick

Chadwick and I have history. A short history but a good one. We both studied Spiritual Formation and Leadership online through Spring Arbor University, Michigan. In that place was forged a meaningful bond that will last to our dying day and beyond. He is deeply sensitive, spiritually aware, devilishly handsome (sorry, I promised), extremely funny and just…a good man. He has pastored churches for many years and is father to four of the coolest kids, like, ever.

He and Amy have recently begun a new website with a rather unimaginative but to the point title (dude, really?). I want to endorse not just their website but them, the road they’re on together; the shared invitation to explore life, both theirs and ours. It’s what lives lived openly and honestly can look like.

What I’m particularly jazzed about however is a writing contest they’re hosting through their site. I’m always down for these kinds of things. Anything to keep me writing. Besides, I love this guy and simply want to support he and his new life, his own writing and to say, “dude, you’re awesome!”

Check it out, friends, and throw your hat in the writing ring. I’m gonna. They’re not exactly promising a new car, but if you saw what he typically drives, you’d be grateful.

Let’s have some fun, shall we?

Your partner in shameless shenanigans among the jokes, words and cries for help…Rob

Once we sang

On By robertalanrifeIn Waxing PoeticLeave a comment

Originally posted on the CenterQuest website, I wanted to share it here with you as well. That said, do come and visit us at CenterQuest and we’ll have tea or coffee with cigars…whatever.

Gabriel strikes Zechariah dumb

 

 

 

 

Once we sang the blustery tunes

of a people bloated on happy promises.

Now, we wait, the words long forgotten

of songs happier still but too faint

to make any difference.

 

Once we told tales of kings and giants,

maidens and madmen, serpents and swords

walls that crumbled and glories won.

Now, we inhale the night stars of a brittle,

unfamiliar sky into lungs long dry,

heaving for the breath of Heaven.

 

Once we sang in dulcet tones

with brothers strong, and sisters proud

the songs, full-throated of Yahweh’s arm,

God’s nurturing wings of holy enchantment.

Now, entombed in raspy voices, we sing,

unpracticed in liberating sounds.

We have lost more than a note or two,

suspended as we are

between the music of here and there,

once and again,

Gehenna and Gabriel,

ranting and ruach.

 

Once we sang a single song.

Now, too many disparate notes vie

for heart and hearth and the demands of presence,

too dim to matter, too far to see, too good to hope for.

 

Joseph’s bones still cry out from Egypt,

the one with onions, olives and overflowing fullnesses,

not the one the skinny prophets told us to avoid.

Broken reeds too weak to hold up heads

too bored, too forgotten to feel shame.

Even that would be better than

these furrowed grey skies, frowning in apathetic non-wonder.

 

Lately, we’ve heard rumors of a man

and his pregnant mistress.

Some girl from who knows where

who talks with angels.

 

Picture found here

Tonight

On By robertalanrifeIn Waxing Poetic6 Comments

Tonight, a tired world slumps, dusty-shouldered,

living large in a tapioca dream, puréed and puerile.

 

Tonight, the moon decides our fate but blows,

instead, a kiss of light outward to the squinting stars.

 

Tonight, there sit angry men, rye and ribald

as coffee grounds in the wine, telling cold stories.

 

Tonight, the light has scurried down the wall

to tease her cache of frozen friends, weeping silently.

 

Tonight, in the destitution of morbidity,

a son refuses comfort, a daughter, embrace.

 

Tonight, a mother’s touch unoffered, renders

a mind, once hopeful, to break with yearning.

 

Tonight, a once great man’s manhood hangs

in the balance of his choice of self-destruction.

 

Tonight, a people sleep restlessly, awake

to nothing new, asleep to all that’s old.

 

Tonight, when clocks tick forward, marching

like soldiers, the seconds grasp for more of less.

 

Tonight, a humble priest, lips now entombed,

trembles in happy disbelief with news of eternity.

 

Luke 1:5-20

 

I hate waiting

On By robertalanrifeIn Christian spirituality, Christianity, faith, life together, sacramental living, spiritual formationLeave a comment

Impatient Businessman

I don’t wait well. Wow, what a stupid and obvious way to begin an Advent blog post. Since I’ve begun this foray into a rather universal bugaboo and done so at that time of year when nothing fresh could possibly be said about the topic, I might as well carry on.

I am one who cannot abide rifts between friends, jagged edges in places where, with a little faith and work, the rough places could be made smooth; broken bridges to reunite two sides of a single stream.

I am told that I am particularly good at defusing conflict. What these same people are too polite to mention, however, is that I’m equally good at creating it. Be that as it may, I apparently have a gift for big picture thinking, peaceful words toward potentially peaceable outcomes.

Damn it.

Ironically (tragically, if you ask me), those who are called peacemakers generally hate conflict more than any others. Hence, the very gifts with which we’re saddled are just that, burdens to be borne more than wings upon which to fly through the mêlée.

I run at the first sign of even a hint of conflict. When they come, I am more unsettled than anyone but, when the time is ripe, the field of battle well-lit and ready, and the stands full of naysayers and side-takers, I will enter the fray, weak in the knees and, with dry mouth, stutter words of “now, imagine how this might be better.”

I’ve had a reasonable rate of success at this. But what about those times of waiting in which no amount of resourcefulness, faith, seeking, pain or bag-‘o-tricks seems enough? When does one say that to wait is no longer a reasonable option? When do we finally reach the point of no return? The statute of limitations on someone’s good promises? The place where it appears waiting was a bad idea to begin with?

Meet a battle-weary, time-scarred, now largely apathetic Israel who only say they’re waiting for the “coming Messiah.” After such a long absence, why bother arousing hope in that which perhaps was a cosmic ruse to begin with? God’s just playin’ around, testing our mettle. Like me, their best approaches, clearest study, best thinking, most robust faith…are for naught. To wait anymore is, well, just a waste of the necessary energy required to just get along.

This was the environment into which “in the fullness of time, God sent forth his Son.” It’s always the environment that God’s Son is most forthcoming. When we can no longer take credit for our astonishing acts of faithful waiting, God comes.

I hate waiting. God loves that because the Gospel of grace, the ultimate peacemaking enterprise, was, is and always will be God’s gig.

adventmusic

Let this Advent be a time of giving up futile fights and endlessly moribund conflicts. Submit to God’s higher waiting; that which is dependent not on our patient endurance, but on God’s perfect track record at keeping promises.

 Pics here and here, respectively

 

 

 

 

For prayers of thanks, we give thanks

On By robertalanrifeIn Uncategorized2 Comments

One could say I’m being a lazy blogger by simply reblogging my Thanksgiving piece from last year. One could. But one won’t because I still believe these things as strongly this year. Blessed Thanksgiving to one and all.

robertalanrife's avatarinnerwoven

Gracious God, giver of all good things,

for arising this day to draw breath, we give thanks.

For enough mental acuity to express gratitude, we give thanks.

For the sunrise’s early resplendent shout of morning, we give thanks.

For the passage of time, from then to now to then, we give thanks.

For a body capable of that which we consider essential, we give thanks.

For the car heater slowly blasting frost from the windshield, we give thanks.

For the car, a heater and a windshield, we give thanks.

For the long, protective arms of God, the windshield of our lives, we give thanks.

For the choice to wear clothing not made by little Filipino girls chained to a desk, we give thanks.

For the sight required to read what we write, we give thanks.

For the ability to read what we see, we give thanks.

For an education that…

View original post 176 more words

A Sunday Prayer

On By robertalanrifeIn Christian spirituality, Christianity, faith, life together, sacramental living, spiritual formation3 Comments

Truthful One,

why do we start as something,

give others the impression that that something

is our true something-ness when in truth

we are something much different indeed?

Living One,

what is the starting place of our deepest self?

When living day to day, how do we know

we’re giving to others that which

comes from living places and not from dead places

merely adorned with glitter and trinkets to make them appealing?

Serving One,

where are the lines drawn between obligation and self-respect?

When does serving another embezzle their need

to capably discover their own inner strength?

When does such a question even matter –

if at all?

Shining One,

how can the coal dust accumulating on my layered soul

be removed to reveal the sheen of love,

framed in hope, birthed of grace that you see?

That I see in my better moments?

Holy One,

I speak no more.

Instead, speak, for your servant is listening.

scattered in ashes of light

On By robertalanrifeIn Life of Rob, Waxing PoeticLeave a comment

Moonlight in Vermont

 

 

 

 

 

there you were scattered in ashes of light

outside of time’s ballooning source

the triadic perfection of unanimous singular gaze

eloping with butterflies light on the sill

and I am loving your loving our loving

there are no more songs fit to sing

where you lay dreaming your hair unyielding

to the moon held at bay too dim for your eyes

a cool and stut stuttering night bares her dark breasts

and draws herself up to tuck in the spindly stars

who point their bony fingers toward my love 

still scattered in ashes of light

 

Picture this