Wednesday, December 15, 2021

LORD of the Night

 LORD of the night … 


Forty days and forty nights … hungry and alone … tempted and weary, worn to the bone!

Wilderness … rock-hard and fraught, harsh and hot, night winds cold … 

Yet possessing its own life and purpose.

With beasts and angels, each counterparts of the other;

Each of God’s creation.


And now:

A night in prayer … the inexorable approach of Judas … sleep impossible!

A Gethsemane night … the end at hand … the bitterness of a bloody sweat!

Others nod off for weariness, but you can’t, you won’t!

You are - LORD of the night!


There was darkness over the deep … for billions of years!

Before there was light … before there was night!

Before there was anything, 

There was Darkness!


Darkness - pure and quiet.

… restless and troubled.

… uncertain of its ambition.


Darkness - a primal cloud of unknowing.

… frightening.

… soft and comforting.


Darkness - within a woman’s belly wherein we begin.

… within the earth, full of sisters’ and brothers’ blood, when time winds down.

… from whence we come … which claims us in the end.


Darkness - owns its own holiness!


To you, O LORD, darkness is commonplace, old hat, as they say; the first neighborhood.

You know your way in the dark.

Vast expanses, nooks and crannies.

Time immemorial.

Billions of years:

A Dark Universe is your home.


Yes … yes … you know the darkness!

Through and through.

You’re no stranger to it.

“As light as day” a Psalmist says.


I’m a creature of light!

Though I come from darkness!


The darkness of a mother’s womb!

And will end in the blink of an eye.

In darkness … though some say a darkness of light.

Yes, I’m a creature of light.


You gave me eyes to see my own shadow.

To see the twin lights of my sky.

Myriads of stars, billions of worlds, realms far, far, farther, away.


A star needs the night to be seen.

The light of day has its weaknesses.

Only at night can my day-light eyes see the dark expanses of forever.

I need the night to look beyond my light-bound horizons.


I am a creature of the night.

I yawn and lay me down to sleep.

I wake up to obey the needs of my body, and then read a bit.

Common patterns, patterns of the night.

Patterns of flesh and bone with a mind of their own.


I toss and turn.

With hard memories and broken stories.

Things that go bump in the night and hide under my bed.

Fears trouble me, the fears of this and that, and who knows what.

Fears without form, without definition, a void of worry.

Fears lay hold of my soul.


Strange and sad.

When former things retreat.

And the way ahead is clouded.

I stumble, I stammer, I seek some slice of solace.


Darkness is as much a part of my life as is the light.

Darkness comes and gives me rest.

And darkness stirs and troubles me for the truth.

I am what I am … and somehow or other, I have to say.

It cannot be otherwise:

Darkness has its own purpose and place.


God said: “Let there be light.”

And then, the strange stuff of time:

There was evening and there was morning.

The first day.


My eyes have along ago adjusted to the light.

But in the dark night of the soul …

My light-time eyes serve small purpose …

I cannot see.

Yet, I do.


I think for a moment, as best I can:

To the LORD of the night I belong.

For whom the night is as bright as day.

In whom there is no shadow’s turn.


You, the LORD of darkness, the 

God of night … are at home in such places.


In my darkness, you are there!


I’ve learned!

And still must learn.


Still, I must repeat the refrains of trust and hope.

The simple refrains of my dust, and your Everlasting Arms.

“I believe” … I say to myself … “all will be well and all will be good.”

The Great God Almighty, the God of Light, and the God of Night.

Brilliant and shining, soft and supple … 


The days of my life.

The nights of my sleep.


One day of all will be my last.

And at the last, the nighttime of eternal rest.

A nighttime luminous with Presence.

Gates never shut … for want of light.

Countless souls, and glorious songs.


Twice, in my darkness, I’ve heard 

Your voice!

A crackling assurance.

A tap on the shoulder, firm and certain.

“Just a moment!” You said.

All will be well.

Not easy, with tears, but well it will be.


Others, too, have heard the sounds of your grace.

Some have followed a star! Some, a pillar of fire!

Shepherds in the field, at night:

A chorus of angels, loud and bright.


In a wilderness without end, or on a cloud-clad mountain.

Desolate in body and soul.

When death is close and ready!

Hope still has its eternal voice.

As life takes its own way and goes where it will.

For good or for ill.


You are there! O LORD …

You are at home in the night.

LORD of shades and shadows!


LORD of an infinite darkness.

An infinite darkness of all our beginnings, and all our endings.

An infinite darkness - the first and beloved realm.

You are there, you are here.

You are LORD of the night.

And I am glad!


© Tom Eggebeen, Pasadena, CA, December, 2021






Sunday, December 12, 2021

𝙒𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙪𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙬𝙨
𝙏𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣,
𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚,
𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝:—𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚
𝙊𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮?

~ Wordsworth, "O'er the wide earth" ... composed, 1809




Sunday, November 28, 2021

A Prayer for a Friend

 A prayer for a dear friend …


O LORD, our God,

The days of our lives belong to you.

From our first breath to the last.

In time and eternity.

Now and forever.


How this should be defies all reason.

A great and marvelous mystery.

Love flowing among the stars.

Creating, and recreating.

Making all things new.


Hold now in your kindly arms.

My dear friend.

His heart is broken, shattered, scattered.

His tears well up like a desert flood.


See him through the dreary days, I pray.

Help him recount the joys and pleasures.

Of love given, and love received.

To blunt the blows of death.

To soften the grief.


You know us through and through, Dear God.

You watched our form take shape.

In our mothers womb; you were there.

You are the God of our beginnings.

And, then, as well, our endings.

And to you, Dear God, we belong.


In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Amen and Amen!




Friday, October 22, 2021

Rice is Wrong!

To a friend who supports Condoleezza Rice's take on #CRT ...

It's all about the truth [name] ... kids can handle the truth; it's the adults who can't. 

Good teachers, graded lessons, everything taught with care ... but the Whites in charge are scared to death of the truth, and they don't want their children exposed to it. Claiming that children are too vulnerable. But they're not concerned about the kids; they're concerned about protecting their "innocence," their position in society. 

Meanwhile, Black kids suffer every day, and so do their parents and grandparents. 

And we [privileged whites] grew up with the lies: cowboys and Indians, minstrels, opium-smoking Chinese, and Gone with the Wind. 

Truth works, and, yes, kids can handle the truth, and if there's some guilt, what's wrong with guilt? A strong and sensitive conscience should be able to feel guilt; not the neurotic kind, but the honest kind, a corporate guilt, "the sins of the parents visited upon the children" - and the children should be given half a chance to see and hear what those sins are. 

In this case, as in most, Rice is wrong. I've followed her for years because she's a Presbyterian - but somewhere along the line, truth-telling never made it to home plate with her. Argh. She's badly mistaken, and it's not the first time.

Saturday, October 9, 2021

Some Thoughts/Tweets about Change

 10.9.21

Every day, changes ... most incrementally small, small enough to never notice, but added up, over time, change is evident. How I think, feel, walk, talk, sleep and eat. My "religion," too. Some elements remain, but most have changed, some discarded. I'm 77.

Change is life - from Adam and Eve to you and me - nothing remains static, everything evolves. Frightening to some people, disturbing to most, resisted by nearly everyone. We love stability, but stability is hell. Heaven is a process of constant discovery, renewal, with light.

Thinking about my career, reviewing the years, I changed things in the life of the church, and most always it was painful. Religion strives for stability. "I'd rather take my church to my grave than see it change," said one. "Besides, I'm too old to change."

I've always been a reader - from The Hardy Boys, to the Weekly Reader; from comics to biographies; history, poetry, mystery and espionage. My imagination full of adventure, courage, danger, and hope. I'd like to think that my soul remains supple in the hands of time and God.

Religion has mostly been my friend. Though for me as a career-minster, it's been an enemy. For me, religion has provided the means of thought, contemplation, review and revision. For others, it's a bulwark that cannot be moved; it's a hidey place; a blankie; an idol.

For religion to remain stable, it has to have idols - wood and iron, stone and gold. Golden Calves rather than the Mountain God of Cloud and Fire. What better idol than skin color; "my skin, my race, my way of life, my people, superior - all by God's UNCHANGING decree."

Friday, October 1, 2021

 Most every morning, before my prayer journal work, I say aloud: The LORD's Prayer, The Apostles' Creed, a prayer from The Book of Common Prayer (slightly modified), and the Hail Mary.

The first two, of course, were always a part of my growing up years, said every Sunday in church.
The Anglican Prayer added to my repertoire, and the Hail Mary, some many years ago.
I was long uncomfortable with The Hail Mary until I gave it some thought with a Rosary gift from the chaplain at Gethsemani Abbey, Fr. Matthew Kelty.
These traditional elements comprise, for me, a foundation - when all else seems fragile and fluid, or slipping away, I find these elements to be a reminder, an encouragement, to be steady ... or not to worry when my personal reservoirs of faith run dry ...
The mercy, the love, the goodness of God, doesn't depend upon me, though I'm a part of what God is doing. Not my decision, not my effort or faith ... but that of God. And all of it by grace.
𝑂𝑢𝑟 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 ... 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐺𝑜𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝐴𝑙𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟 ... 𝐴𝑙𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑑, 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 ... 𝐻𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑦, 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑂𝑅𝐷 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 ...
Sure, criticism abounds ... male language and such ... and I'm not blind or deaf to them ...
I say them, I would like to think, mindfully and carefully ... with awareness and sensitivity ...
And so it is, this day, Oct. 1, 2021 ... and God's Peace to all.



Sunday, June 6, 2021

Ten Thousand Graves

Ten thousand graves ... 

Tended with care ... lush grass precisely trimmed.

Crosses mostly ... and Stars of David ...

Young men and women cut down in the prime of life.

They were brave and they were afraid ...

Their pictures reveal that haunted look ...

Of soldiers too tired to be afraid, 

And too frightened to find sleep.


Seasick and wet, 

They hit the beach …

Under the cover of …

Steel and smoke.

Death and tears abound …

Ahead, my friends, ahead.

There’s no going back now.

No stopping for any of us.


A continent enslaved awaits the charge.

Nations, yes, and then some, to be unshackled …


And the years pass us by quickly …

Memories roll beyond the reach of words …

Silent tears still shed …

By those who made it home.


Slowly, now, they join their comrades,

As we all do … with the passage of time.

Hand-in-hand; arm-in-arm … a band of brothers …

A chorus of sisters …


Smoke and steel … 

And a victory in hand.

And may those 

Ten thousand graves remain ever well-tended!


© Tom Eggebeen, 2010