The swing welcomed me.
It had been so long since I pumped my legs,
Letting momentum take me higher,
Caressed by breeze and sky,
Lifted, grounded and held at the same time.
With each swing,
I saw Freedom lift her hands.
Your Call: Swings were my favorite part of the playground.
Is there a memory of a past delight that can re-energize you now?
Are you telling on yourself?
Outside sneaking,
graffiti writing,
cig smoking,
candy buying,
but you’re alright with me
’cause when I heard
you and horns testify…
I was hopscotching and double dutching
In playgrounds swinging, full voice singing:
“Skippieees,
they cost a dollar ninety-nine.
Skippieees,
they make your feet feel fine”
Miss Mary Macking with hands clapping
Hide-and-seeking, relay racing,
Giggling and twirling and chasing…
Chasing your melodies and
dizzy with black girl joy.
© Sharon Fleshman
Your Call: What memories or moments help you recover your joy?
Dedicated to the ancestors and the elders
I am from the heavenlies
Hovering over a Wakanda that
transcends maps
I am from choppy waters
and chains broken
I am from Spirit-breathed spaces
in country and city
in West Virginia, South Carolina, New York
I am from
Ardelia and Joseph
Tena and Arthur
Laura and Gilbert
I am from
Aunties Nola, Kat, Tena, Cleo, and Irene
and Vern, Anne, Jeri, and Jojo
I am from Harriet and Sojourner and Ida
I am from Zora and Maya and Toni
I am from Stevie’s “I Wish”
and Marvin’s “What’s Going On?”
I am from Diana’s “The Boss”
and Chaka’s “I’m Every Woman”
I am Aretha’s “How I Got Over”
and from Mahalia’s “Move on up a Little Higher”
I am from Deborah and Huldah and Hannah
I am from Shiphrah and Puah
I am from Prisca and Junia
I am from the Marys
of Nazareth, Bethany and Magdala
I am from Jarena, Prathia and Millicent
I am from seeds of creative and curious contemplation
I am from deep and flowing rivers of resurrection
I am from that tree grounded
and waving fruit in her hands saying “Come and eat!”
I am from mute to voice
I am from shackled to free
I am from fear to love
© Sharon F. Fleshman, 2019
Your Call: Whose legacies are you being called to reflect on in this season of your life? Based on your reflections, complete the sentence “I am from …” as it applies to you.
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy;
then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.
Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
Psalm 126 reminds me why worship is so important. In these nightmarish times, we can’t afford to stop dreaming of the goodness that is possible. Worship helps get us there by redirecting our focus toward God, not for escapism, but for the joy and power that comes with a stronger connection to God.
As we stay woke to the reality that is life today, hope must be one of our companions if we are to stay well. Worship gives us space to remember who God is and what God has already done so that we dare to envision a world where love, peace and justice reign.
In painting a picture of an empty riverbed in the desert region of the Negev, this psalm lifts up prayers for reversal and restoration, from dryness to drenching, from sowing in tears to reaping with joy. Can you relate to this shift in your own life?
Worshipping in community gives us an opportunity to rejoice in anticipation of better times as we ask each other, “Can’t you feel a brand new day?!” The song that poses this question is from the soundtrack of The Wiz. It is not a traditional worship song but it speaks to our need to celebrate freedom at its fullest because “it’s like a different way of living now…”
Amazing things can happen when worship links up with work by way of the Spirit of God. Isaiah 61 speaks of One anointed to be a vessel of reversal, bringing good news to the oppressed, binding up the brokenhearted, and proclaiming liberty to the captives. It speaks of a people who have been planted by God for a ministry of restoration, building up and repairing the ruins around them. Will you accept God’s invitation to participate in the divine restoration to come?
Your Call: Watch the videos above; what calls out to you in them? If you painted a picture of a “different way of living” for the world to see, what would it look like and what small step can you take to move in that direction? What are you being anointed to do in God’s process of restoration?
Do I really see you?
Off to the side and on back pews.
On invisible edges and borders.
Under bridges and on street corners.
Perpetually unacknowledged and wallflowered.
I pray for the sanctified side-eye
to behold you
for the
magnificent
human
divine image bearer that you are.
© Sharon Fleshman, 2015
Your Call: I was inspired to write this poem by Pope Francis’ recent visit to Philadelphia. Watch this footage and consider how it speaks to you. Reflect on how Jesus saw those, such as Zacchaeus (Luke 19-1-10), who were on the margins of society. How can you develop your peripheral vision?
Henry Ossawa Tanner – The Annunciation
Stumbling into sacred space,
I overhear
whispers in the heavens,
declaring,
preparing,
scaring
me.
Wrestling in the Presence
and overshadowed,
I gasp
and Spirit blows,
and lungs expand,
and I exhale,
“Yessss…”
© Sharon Fleshman, 2011, 2013
Your Call: In what place is God summoning you and awaiting your Yes?
So they chained your wrists,
convinced that they had snatched your freedom.
But they didn’t know
that Love slipped through the bars,
whispered in your ear,
and multiplied Power within your soul.
They were oblivious to Hope and Peace,
who held your hands and didn’t let go.
Upon your release,
you carried Justice
and embodied Grace.
Amandla.
Madiba,
thank you.
Your Call: How does Mandela’s life and legacy compel you to move toward your own calling in life?
Beloved Daughter,
student of desert places,
return with power.
“Then Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit to Galilee…” Luke 4:14a (NKJV)
Your Call: What is God whispering to you on your road to resurrection? Listen…
“Head held high
and never cry,” said I
on my trip to Sahara
where sand
flew in my eyes
and rendered me blind.
Then,
I heard Hagar
and Moses
and Elijah
say,
“This is holy ground.”
And I heard Jesus say,
“Come…”
He took my hand
and blew into my eyes
and reached into my soul
and turned on the faucet,
collecting tears long overdue
in a bottle which He had,
before the beginning of time,
reserved just for me.
And when I drank,
something crazy happened.
Like straight from the honeycomb,
All I tasted was sweet.
© Sharon Fleshman, 2012
Your Call: How has God shown up for you in dry seasons and wilderness places?
Beloved Daughter,
You can’t mix sand to bake bread
But Manna is here.
This haiku has been whispering within since it came to me a few weeks ago. My response to Lent had been rather unfocused, but by the grace of God, the poem emerged as the Spirit hovered over my weariness, my creativity and my meditation on Jesus’ first temptation in the wilderness:
The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes out of the mouth of God.’ ” Matthew 4:3,4 (NRSV)
Indeed, I do find myself in a desert season these days. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here. I know that there is purpose, power and provision to be found even in dry places. I also know that the temptation for me to try to fend for myself is very real. No, I can’t turn stones into bread, but with my resourcefulness, surely I can think of some other options. But Manna, that Bread from Heaven, is here. And so I rest. I eat. I listen. I learn.
In The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality, Belden C. Lane points out that “without the tough-minded discipline of desert-mountain experience, spirituality loses its bite, its capacity to speak prophetically to its culture, and its demand for justice.” So the significance of yielding to the work of the desert is bigger than my own spiritual growth. Therefore, the questions for me (and perhaps for you) are:
Will you be a good steward of this desert experience?
Will you take off your shoes and declare this to be holy ground?
Will you cooperate in being stripped of whatever would hinder your devotion to Christ and your love of others?
Will you walk in the valley of dry bones long enough to cry out for rivers of resurrection in the midst of idolatry, injustice, and despair?
In the company of Hagar, Moses, Elijah, Ezekiel, John the Baptist,
and in the presence of Jesus Christ,
let us say…
Yes.
Your Call: Recall the last time you were in a dry place. Perhaps you are there now. Either way, what lessons have you taken away from the experience? How will you retain and act on what you have learned? Who would potentially be blessed if you yielded to God’s work in the desert?
