Waking Up to the Risen Life.

As people who love Jesus,
who desire 
to live into Christ consciousness as best as we humanly can,
there comes a call after Easter to live into the risen life.

Each year, I wonder,
what does the risen life actually look like?
Really. What does it look like fleshed out? LIVED.
I mean, let’s be honest, if there
is a risen life to be lived, I want to be living
THAT life, not some dreary, woe is me life.

I started to think about waking up to the risen life,
a zesty existence that urges me to be fully me.

It began as a long definition
and turned into a playful ode.


risen life

Oh risen life —
you are too beautiful for me,
you, a sea of rainbow colors,
coral pink to indigo blue – or is it purple?
Either way, your vastness tickles me.
You have room for both in the
evening sky.

One thing is for sure,
you, risen life, are not dull.
No, your worship spans beyond walls—
quiet spaces to be,
creative studios to make,
rote rooms to belong,
singing spots to belt,
garden paths to breathe,
city streets to behold.

Risen life,
your hospitality calls to me
where welcome is wide,
games are played,
baked goods are adored.
I love the way you challenge me
to invite and receive, invite and receive,
the table your centerpiece.

Risen life, it doesn’t surprise me
that you love community.
In all facets, you are a supporter
of people coming together for good.
Spaces where poetry is read aloud,
prayers are lifted,
beliefs are wrestled,
life is witnessed,
hands held, stories shared,
service poured.

Risen life, as much as you love
the buzz of the collective, 
you sure are a sly one,
with a secret treasure you hold: solitude.
You unfurl yourself in lovely ways
for those who pull away to sabbath spots
to experience your still small voice.
You hold renewal
in the deep seed of your being.

Risen life, you are the rhythm
of moon cycles and mood cycles,
you are the four seasons,
the garden of death and life.
You dance to 
the silliness of the chicken,
the quick beat of hip-hop,
the lyrical story of ballet.
You are flowing yoga,
the silence in the pause,
the heightened release
of sensual touch.

Risen life, is adventure your middle name?
You seriously recommend giant leaps into the unknown!
You claim they are uncomfortable but needed
for our growth, for our health!
Diving into fear is often where you are found.
RL, can I call you that? RL,
You are a bit on the crazy side.

Risen Life, you are inclusive!
ALL the living are boosted by you.
Yes! You desire our full participation, not simply
watching the parade of life go by. You cherish
the seedling and the great oak,
the tiniest ladybug and the sacred elephant,
the freshest baby and the wisest elder.
You’re present for all, watching our becoming.

How grateful I am to you
for your integration, risen life!
You hold both/and in the palms of your hands—
where black and white doesn’t exist,
where doubt is allowed.
You include and witness pain,
setting joy aside heartache.
You’re a teacher of holding tension.

Risen life, you are abundance.
With you, there is enough for all.
You are a sharer of resources —
of paint, canvas, gold and glitter
for all with open hands.
You know, RL,
some don’t see you.
Some are complacent.
Some simply don’t want you.

But I know —
you are hope over cynicism,
love over hate.
You are in the ordinary spaces.
Please, RL,
teach me your ways.


I’d love to know your definition of the risen life!
Feel free to comment and share.

One Comment

  1. Sheila Van Dyke

    I, too, have been thinking of the Risen Life especially after the Sunday sermon. I think you have captured all emotions in your piece. From a class I took recently I am picturing Jesus as he came to the disciples…after the extreme torment of the crucifixion…and there was detailed description…so He..is coming to me in my mind and heart…He…no longer in pain…next to me…the Guide…to the “abundance”….great word…and to the “dance”… Thanks, Ally.

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