While the rest of the North American world is today enamored with a “holiday” (and that word may be the biggest misnomer ever) that I’m doing my absolute best to avoid, the history geek in me is reminding me that 491 years ago today, Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany, and reshaped the face of the Western, Christian church.
I think I write a post like this every year, but it’s such a beautiful concept. No, not the resulting centuries of bloodshed, the bitter divide between Catholic and Protestant over who holds “exclusive rights to truth”. Not the proliferation of denominations, because once the splintering began, it was difficult to stop. (And, if you’re history geek enough to have actually studied Luther, keep in mind that he never really wanted a split from the Catholic church in the first place, but that it was something ultimately forced upon him.)
But the idea of reformation, of reform, of being re-formed – that is one that is beautiful to me.
It’s one that I need.
Re. Form. To remake. To be made new again.
To be formed speaks to me of hands of a creator. Hands gently twisting and tugging and manipulating until the result is beauty. And, when the creation becomes marred, dirtied, a re-forming. Hands again gently twisting and tugging and manipulating, repairing, until the result is beauty.
And, reforming didn’t start 491 years ago. That’s the beauty of it. Sure, for nearly 500 years we’ve been acknowledging this process of change and reformation within the church, but it’s been going on since the world began. The hands of a creator shaping and forming and re-forming. Creating beauty. Restoring marred beauty. Bringing hope and redemption.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Another Church Thought
Another thought from Henri Nouwen on church...
Focusing on the Poor
Like every human organization the Church is constantly in danger of corruption. As soon as power and wealth come to the Church, manipulation, exploitation, misuse of influence, and outright corruption are not far away.
How do we prevent corruption in the Church? The answer is clear: by focusing on the poor. The poor make the Church faithful to its vocation. When the Church is no longer a church for the poor, it loses its spiritual identity. It gets caught up in disagreements, jealousy, power games, and pettiness. Paul says, "God has composed the body so that greater dignity is given to the parts which were without it, and so that there may not be disagreements inside the body but each part may be equally concerned for all the others" (1 Corinthians 12:24-25). This is the true vision. The poor are given to the Church so that the Church as the body of Christ can be and remain a place of mutual concern, love, and peace.
Focusing on the Poor
Like every human organization the Church is constantly in danger of corruption. As soon as power and wealth come to the Church, manipulation, exploitation, misuse of influence, and outright corruption are not far away.
How do we prevent corruption in the Church? The answer is clear: by focusing on the poor. The poor make the Church faithful to its vocation. When the Church is no longer a church for the poor, it loses its spiritual identity. It gets caught up in disagreements, jealousy, power games, and pettiness. Paul says, "God has composed the body so that greater dignity is given to the parts which were without it, and so that there may not be disagreements inside the body but each part may be equally concerned for all the others" (1 Corinthians 12:24-25). This is the true vision. The poor are given to the Church so that the Church as the body of Christ can be and remain a place of mutual concern, love, and peace.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Oldest Hebrew Script Found
As a follow-up on my post earlier, this headline caught my attention:
Oldest Hebrew Script is Found
Oldest Hebrew Script is Found
Ancient City Found
This article fascinated me:
Find of Ancient City Could Alter Notions of Biblical David
Find of Ancient City Could Alter Notions of Biblical David
Speaking Silently
I’m sitting here at my desk, eating a mandarin orange, and staring at a blinking cursor, trying to find words for you. Words to share the thoughts and prayers shaping my heart this week. Words to share the deep concerns, and those things that are making me come alive with anticipation.
For someone who has shaped a life around a love of words, they’ve been hard to form lately. Hard to shape and manipulate and cause to reflect the meanings of my heart. As the places and spaces I’m occupying grow increasingly deeper, more and more I find myself unable to use the language and conventions of grammar that I’ve always known to describe these things. And I find myself wondering if perhaps a whole new language, a whole new set of words and thoughts and conventions will be formed, to again give voice to my heart.
And so, I sit here, at my desk, eating a mandarin orange.
Or I sit in my candlelit bedroom, the smell of incense or rose oil drifting through the air, and I nibble on chocolate.
Or I finger the tiny crucifix from the rosary I bought at the Vatican. Or let my fingers caress the face of Jesus – one of many charms filled with the saints, on a bracelet that is a much cherished gift from a much cherished friend.
And I find my fingers reaching for the tiny silver medallion that hangs on a delicate chain around my neck most days. The medallion with the face of St. Claire of Assisi on it. My fingers reach for it and my thoughts are drawn back to a moment of dreaming. To oil and tears mingled as the sign of the cross was traced upon my cheeks, and followed by a long and loving embrace.
It would seem, these days, that my hands, my clothing, my jewelry, my choices of food, the items on my shelves and counters and walls, and the scents I use to fill the air around me do much of my speaking. They give voice to the things that remain, for now, too deep for words. And I am seeking to rest in that. To let them speak of the peace and joy and hope I’m finding. To let them declare to the world that I am falling in love with a God who hung bleeding and broken before the world. And a God who lives and speaks and breathes life. I let these things declare that I am being wooed, that vows have been made. I let them declare a struggle to trust, and a commitment to push through. And I pray that they will speak loudly when I cannot form words, but that, one day, the words will again begin to form on my tongue and pour out of my fingertips – not in a stumbling, clumsy, child-like way, but in a deep and flowing and eloquent way that speaks of the awe I feel at being swept into this journey that encompasses thousands of years, millions of people, and ultimately brings life, hope, joy, peace and redemption.
For someone who has shaped a life around a love of words, they’ve been hard to form lately. Hard to shape and manipulate and cause to reflect the meanings of my heart. As the places and spaces I’m occupying grow increasingly deeper, more and more I find myself unable to use the language and conventions of grammar that I’ve always known to describe these things. And I find myself wondering if perhaps a whole new language, a whole new set of words and thoughts and conventions will be formed, to again give voice to my heart.
And so, I sit here, at my desk, eating a mandarin orange.
Or I sit in my candlelit bedroom, the smell of incense or rose oil drifting through the air, and I nibble on chocolate.
Or I finger the tiny crucifix from the rosary I bought at the Vatican. Or let my fingers caress the face of Jesus – one of many charms filled with the saints, on a bracelet that is a much cherished gift from a much cherished friend.
And I find my fingers reaching for the tiny silver medallion that hangs on a delicate chain around my neck most days. The medallion with the face of St. Claire of Assisi on it. My fingers reach for it and my thoughts are drawn back to a moment of dreaming. To oil and tears mingled as the sign of the cross was traced upon my cheeks, and followed by a long and loving embrace.
It would seem, these days, that my hands, my clothing, my jewelry, my choices of food, the items on my shelves and counters and walls, and the scents I use to fill the air around me do much of my speaking. They give voice to the things that remain, for now, too deep for words. And I am seeking to rest in that. To let them speak of the peace and joy and hope I’m finding. To let them declare to the world that I am falling in love with a God who hung bleeding and broken before the world. And a God who lives and speaks and breathes life. I let these things declare that I am being wooed, that vows have been made. I let them declare a struggle to trust, and a commitment to push through. And I pray that they will speak loudly when I cannot form words, but that, one day, the words will again begin to form on my tongue and pour out of my fingertips – not in a stumbling, clumsy, child-like way, but in a deep and flowing and eloquent way that speaks of the awe I feel at being swept into this journey that encompasses thousands of years, millions of people, and ultimately brings life, hope, joy, peace and redemption.
I'm Thinking About...
I’m thinking about an upcoming anniversary. Saturday marks three years since the day my depression was healed. Three years since God stepped into my life in a crazy way, and brought hope where there’d been only despair. I’m still working on plans to celebrate, but I know there will be a Mexican dinner with my roommates (a joint celebration of my anniversary and one of their birthday’s) and an evening of watching Anne of Green Gables.
I’m thinking about plans to pray tonight with my roommates. To pray over each other and our house. About how I’ve needed us to do this together, but haven’t known how to broach the subject, and how it’s come together naturally, after a week in which we have each individually experienced disturbing nightmares.
I’m thinking about hamburger chop suey – which is the only dish (other than hamburgers) I can think of that contains ground beef that I actually enjoy. I think years of eating A LOT of ground beef as a child (it was affordable when we couldn’t afford much) created a strong aversion to it.
I’m thinking about how delighted I am that I’ve scheduled a phone conversation with my best friend, currently working on the other side of the world in a hospital in Pakistan, for Sunday morning.
I’m thinking about my desperate need to shorten a pair of pants I bought a few months ago, so that I have at least two pairs of pants that are suitable for work.
I’m thinking about how nice it is to be loved.
I’m thinking about how healing the hugs of a child are.
I’m thinking about a little boy who struggles a bit with language fingering a medallion on a bracelet I wear – a picture of Jesus – and telling me “This God. This God. I know Him.”
I’m thinking about another friend, much older, who held that same bracelet in his hands the other night, looking at it as I told him the story of my little friend’s confidence in knowing God, and commenting that he liked the bracelet, that it “felt good” in his hand. That there was a sort of strength to it.
I’m thinking about pearls. About a string of them that were a gift from a friend, and about a pearl ring sitting in a box in my dresser drawer, that perhaps needs to be unearthed and worn a little more often. About the caution I was given when I purchased that ring – that pearls were beautiful, but notoriously soft and delicate, easily shattered and broken, thus making them somewhat more valueable. And about some lines from the Anne of Green Gables books years ago. Anne commenting on the fact that she’d been criticized for wearing a tiny circlet of pearls as her engagement/wedding band because pearls represented tears, and essentially saying that it was the many tears it had taken to come to this place of commitment that made the commitment, and thus the symbolism of the circlet of pearls far more dear to her than any diamond.
I’m thinking about plans to pray tonight with my roommates. To pray over each other and our house. About how I’ve needed us to do this together, but haven’t known how to broach the subject, and how it’s come together naturally, after a week in which we have each individually experienced disturbing nightmares.
I’m thinking about hamburger chop suey – which is the only dish (other than hamburgers) I can think of that contains ground beef that I actually enjoy. I think years of eating A LOT of ground beef as a child (it was affordable when we couldn’t afford much) created a strong aversion to it.
I’m thinking about how delighted I am that I’ve scheduled a phone conversation with my best friend, currently working on the other side of the world in a hospital in Pakistan, for Sunday morning.
I’m thinking about my desperate need to shorten a pair of pants I bought a few months ago, so that I have at least two pairs of pants that are suitable for work.
I’m thinking about how nice it is to be loved.
I’m thinking about how healing the hugs of a child are.
I’m thinking about a little boy who struggles a bit with language fingering a medallion on a bracelet I wear – a picture of Jesus – and telling me “This God. This God. I know Him.”
I’m thinking about another friend, much older, who held that same bracelet in his hands the other night, looking at it as I told him the story of my little friend’s confidence in knowing God, and commenting that he liked the bracelet, that it “felt good” in his hand. That there was a sort of strength to it.
I’m thinking about pearls. About a string of them that were a gift from a friend, and about a pearl ring sitting in a box in my dresser drawer, that perhaps needs to be unearthed and worn a little more often. About the caution I was given when I purchased that ring – that pearls were beautiful, but notoriously soft and delicate, easily shattered and broken, thus making them somewhat more valueable. And about some lines from the Anne of Green Gables books years ago. Anne commenting on the fact that she’d been criticized for wearing a tiny circlet of pearls as her engagement/wedding band because pearls represented tears, and essentially saying that it was the many tears it had taken to come to this place of commitment that made the commitment, and thus the symbolism of the circlet of pearls far more dear to her than any diamond.
Church - Again...
A few more thoughts on church from Henri Nouwen.
One Body with Many Parts
The Church is one body. Paul writes, "We were baptised into one body in a single Spirit" (1 Corinthians 12:13). But this one body has many parts. As Paul says, "If they were all the same part, how could it be a body? As it is, the parts are many but the body is one" (1 Corinthians 12:19). Not everyone can be everything. Often we expect one member of the body to fulfill a task that belongs to others. But the hand cannot be asked to see nor the eye to hear.
Together we are Christ's body, each of us with a part to play in the whole (see 1 Corinthians 12:27). Let's be grateful for our limited but real part in the body.
The Weakest in the Center
The most honored parts of the body are not the head or the hands, which lead and control. The most important parts are the least presentable parts. That's the mystery of the Church. As a people called out of oppression to freedom, we must recognize that it is the weakest among us - the elderly, the small children, the handicapped, the mentally ill, the hungry and sick - who form the real center. Paul says, "It is the parts of the body which we consider least dignified, that we surround with the greatest dignity" (1 Corinthians 12:23).
The Church as the people of God can truly embody of the living Christ among us only when the poor remain its most treasured part. Care for the poor, therefore, is much more than Christian charity. It is the essence of being the body of Christ.
One Body with Many Parts
The Church is one body. Paul writes, "We were baptised into one body in a single Spirit" (1 Corinthians 12:13). But this one body has many parts. As Paul says, "If they were all the same part, how could it be a body? As it is, the parts are many but the body is one" (1 Corinthians 12:19). Not everyone can be everything. Often we expect one member of the body to fulfill a task that belongs to others. But the hand cannot be asked to see nor the eye to hear.
Together we are Christ's body, each of us with a part to play in the whole (see 1 Corinthians 12:27). Let's be grateful for our limited but real part in the body.
The Weakest in the Center
The most honored parts of the body are not the head or the hands, which lead and control. The most important parts are the least presentable parts. That's the mystery of the Church. As a people called out of oppression to freedom, we must recognize that it is the weakest among us - the elderly, the small children, the handicapped, the mentally ill, the hungry and sick - who form the real center. Paul says, "It is the parts of the body which we consider least dignified, that we surround with the greatest dignity" (1 Corinthians 12:23).
The Church as the people of God can truly embody of the living Christ among us only when the poor remain its most treasured part. Care for the poor, therefore, is much more than Christian charity. It is the essence of being the body of Christ.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Evening
At the setting of the sun,
to you, unfailing Light, I turn.
I thank you for the day now fading,
and pray you give
an evening of quiet to my spirit.
Let me rest in you that I may know
refreshment of soul, and peace of heart.
Silent and still, attentive to you alone,
let my soul breathe
no other breath than you, O Holy Spirit.
(Sanctifying the Day: Evening, from "Devotions to the Holy Spirit" by Brian Moore, SJ)
to you, unfailing Light, I turn.
I thank you for the day now fading,
and pray you give
an evening of quiet to my spirit.
Let me rest in you that I may know
refreshment of soul, and peace of heart.
Silent and still, attentive to you alone,
let my soul breathe
no other breath than you, O Holy Spirit.
(Sanctifying the Day: Evening, from "Devotions to the Holy Spirit" by Brian Moore, SJ)
Between the Dreaming and the Coming True
I just finished reading an absolutely beautiful book, and it deserves a much longer post than I have time to write at the moment, but I wanted to share the closing lines of the book with you, because they grabbed at me and spoke deeply.
The journey between the dreaming and the coming true is a journey made on holy ground. It is a journey made through silence and longing where, if we will listen, we can hear the whisper of the Dreamer echoing deep within us, calling us to become what the Dreamer sees when our names were first whispered: saints who believe in and pay attention for and recognize the Voice; saints who live our lives in joy and confidence and hope rather than judgement and anxiety and desperation; saints whose hours and days and lives are spent carrying people to the Christ, lending each other a hand when one of us has fallen, slipping along the river that brings joy to to the heart of God, carrying God's peace and love and presence and life to those we meet along the way.
That is what we have been sent here to do. And we will. The Dreamer's dreams will always come true.
The journey between the dreaming and the coming true is a journey made on holy ground. It is a journey made through silence and longing where, if we will listen, we can hear the whisper of the Dreamer echoing deep within us, calling us to become what the Dreamer sees when our names were first whispered: saints who believe in and pay attention for and recognize the Voice; saints who live our lives in joy and confidence and hope rather than judgement and anxiety and desperation; saints whose hours and days and lives are spent carrying people to the Christ, lending each other a hand when one of us has fallen, slipping along the river that brings joy to to the heart of God, carrying God's peace and love and presence and life to those we meet along the way.
That is what we have been sent here to do. And we will. The Dreamer's dreams will always come true.
The book shares the same title as this post, and is by a man named Robert Benson, and you should all go out and pick it up and read it. It's skinny, and an easy read. But so beautifully written and deeply profound. Definitely a new favorite for me.
Praying
This headline caught my attention as soon as I woke and looked at the news this morning:
Scores Dead in Pakistan Quake.
I'm praying again for Pakistan. The quake doesn't seem to be near where my best friend is nursing, but just for a moment, my heart caught as I hurried to the article, hunting for a map. I'll be writing her shortly, to confirm that she's okay, as she's recently moved hospitals for a while, and I'm not sure precisely where the new hospital is located.
And I'm praying for clarity and guidance for some dear friends.
I'm praying for a 2.5 month old infant who's been sick all night, and for his mother, waiting with him in the hospital.
I'm praying for a smooth day at the office.
And I'm letting my heart simply talk with Jesus.
It's morning. Here we go.
Scores Dead in Pakistan Quake.
I'm praying again for Pakistan. The quake doesn't seem to be near where my best friend is nursing, but just for a moment, my heart caught as I hurried to the article, hunting for a map. I'll be writing her shortly, to confirm that she's okay, as she's recently moved hospitals for a while, and I'm not sure precisely where the new hospital is located.
And I'm praying for clarity and guidance for some dear friends.
I'm praying for a 2.5 month old infant who's been sick all night, and for his mother, waiting with him in the hospital.
I'm praying for a smooth day at the office.
And I'm letting my heart simply talk with Jesus.
It's morning. Here we go.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Keep Your Pants On
I found this article about an experience flying and with airport security rather hilariously funny. Read it here.
More on Church
I'm still thinking quite a lot about loving the church, and the various places I find it. I'm thinking too about the fact that, in a season where I am being increasingly drawn to the most formalized expression of church there is, I am surrounded primarily by friends who seem to have either rejected the church, or have allowed church to become a rote activity, rather than a deep expression of life and faith. I'm beginning to suspect that this will be an ongoing topic of thought and conversation for me.
In the meantime, another reflection on church by Henri Nouwen arrived in my inbox this morning...
Our Spiritual Leaders
The Church as the body of Christ has many faces. The Church prays and worships. It speaks words of instruction and healing, cleanses us from our sins, invites us to the table of the Lord, binds us together in a covenant of love, sends us out to minister, anoints us when we are sick or dying, and accompanies us in our search for meaning and our daily need for support. All these faces might not come to us from those we look up to as our leaders. But when we live our lives with a simple trust that Jesus comes to us in our Church, we will see the Church's ministry in places and in faces where we least expect it.
If we truly love Jesus, Jesus will send us the people to give us what we most need. And they are our spiritual leaders.
In the meantime, another reflection on church by Henri Nouwen arrived in my inbox this morning...
Our Spiritual Leaders
The Church as the body of Christ has many faces. The Church prays and worships. It speaks words of instruction and healing, cleanses us from our sins, invites us to the table of the Lord, binds us together in a covenant of love, sends us out to minister, anoints us when we are sick or dying, and accompanies us in our search for meaning and our daily need for support. All these faces might not come to us from those we look up to as our leaders. But when we live our lives with a simple trust that Jesus comes to us in our Church, we will see the Church's ministry in places and in faces where we least expect it.
If we truly love Jesus, Jesus will send us the people to give us what we most need. And they are our spiritual leaders.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Thoughts on Church
Thanks to missing a day and half of work while I was sick last week, I got a bit behind on reading the daily reflections from the Henri Nouwen society, and there were quite a few gems waiting for me in my inbox this morning.
I'm rather passionate about the church. I love the church - the body of Christ expressed on earth. Sometimes I feel like a bit of a minority, even among my Christian friends, because I do still hold the church with great love, rather than contempt. Because of that, it excited and encouraged me to read all of the following reflections on the church from Henri Nouwen. I also love that he acknowledges that the church can at times be a place of wounding, but that we are to look at Christ's model and express love and forgiveness and compassion towards the church.
Being in the Church, Not of It
Often we hear the remark that we have live in the world without being of the world. But it may be more difficult to be in the Church without being of the Church. Being of the Church means being so preoccupied by and involved in the many ecclesial affairs and clerical "ins and outs" that we are no longer focused on Jesus. The Church then blinds us from what we came to see and deafens us to what we came to hear. Still, it is in the Church that Christ dwells, invites us to his table, and speaks to us words of eternal love.
Being in the Church without being of it is a great spiritual challenge.
Loving the Church
Loving the Church often seems close to impossible. Still, we must keep reminding ourselves that all people in the Church - whether powerful or powerless, conservative or progressive, tolerant or fanatic - belong to that long line of witnesses moving through this valley of tears, singing songs of praise and thanksgiving, listening to the voice of their Lord, and eating together from the bread that keeps multiplying as it is shared. When we remember that, we may be able to say, "I love the Church, and I am glad to belong to it."
Loving the Church is our sacred duty. Without a true love for the Church, we cannot live in it in joy and peace. And without a true love for the Church, we cannot call people to it.
Meeting Christ in the Church
Loving the Church does not require romantic emotions. It requires the will to see the living Christ among his people and to love them as we want to love Christ himself. This is true not only for the "little" people - the poor, the oppressed, the forgotten - but also for the "big" people who exercise authority in the Church.
To love the Church means to be willing to meet Jesus wherever we go in the Church. This love doesn't mean agreeing with or approving of everyone's ideas or behavior. On the contrary, it can call us to confront those who hide Christ from us. But whether we confront or affirm, criticize or praise, we can only become fruitful when our words and actions come from hearts that love the Church.
The Authority of Compassion
The Church often wounds us deeply. People with religious authority often wound us by their words, attitudes, and demands. Precisely because our religion brings us in touch with the questions of life and death, our religious sensibilities can get hurt most easily. Ministers and priests seldom fully realize how a critical remark, a gesture of rejection, or an act of impatience can be remembered for life by those to whom it is directed.
There is such an enormous hunger for meaning in life, for comfort and consolation, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for restoration and healing, that anyone who has any authority in the Church should constantly be reminded that the best word to characterize religious authority is compassion. Let's keep looking at Jesus whose authority was expressed in compassion.
Forgiving the Church
When we have been wounded by the Church, our temptation is to reject it. But when we reject the Church it becomes very hard for us to keep in touch with the living Christ. When we say, "I love Jesus, but I hate the Church," we end up losing not only the Church but Jesus too. The challenge is to forgive the Church. This challenge is especially great because the Church seldom asks us for forgiveness, at least not officially. But the Church as an often fallible human organization needs our forgiveness, while the Church as the living Christ among us continues to offer us forgiveness.
It is important to think about the Church not as "over there" but as a community of struggling, weak people of whom we are part and in whom we meet our Lord and Redeemer.
I'm rather passionate about the church. I love the church - the body of Christ expressed on earth. Sometimes I feel like a bit of a minority, even among my Christian friends, because I do still hold the church with great love, rather than contempt. Because of that, it excited and encouraged me to read all of the following reflections on the church from Henri Nouwen. I also love that he acknowledges that the church can at times be a place of wounding, but that we are to look at Christ's model and express love and forgiveness and compassion towards the church.
Being in the Church, Not of It
Often we hear the remark that we have live in the world without being of the world. But it may be more difficult to be in the Church without being of the Church. Being of the Church means being so preoccupied by and involved in the many ecclesial affairs and clerical "ins and outs" that we are no longer focused on Jesus. The Church then blinds us from what we came to see and deafens us to what we came to hear. Still, it is in the Church that Christ dwells, invites us to his table, and speaks to us words of eternal love.
Being in the Church without being of it is a great spiritual challenge.
Loving the Church
Loving the Church often seems close to impossible. Still, we must keep reminding ourselves that all people in the Church - whether powerful or powerless, conservative or progressive, tolerant or fanatic - belong to that long line of witnesses moving through this valley of tears, singing songs of praise and thanksgiving, listening to the voice of their Lord, and eating together from the bread that keeps multiplying as it is shared. When we remember that, we may be able to say, "I love the Church, and I am glad to belong to it."
Loving the Church is our sacred duty. Without a true love for the Church, we cannot live in it in joy and peace. And without a true love for the Church, we cannot call people to it.
Meeting Christ in the Church
Loving the Church does not require romantic emotions. It requires the will to see the living Christ among his people and to love them as we want to love Christ himself. This is true not only for the "little" people - the poor, the oppressed, the forgotten - but also for the "big" people who exercise authority in the Church.
To love the Church means to be willing to meet Jesus wherever we go in the Church. This love doesn't mean agreeing with or approving of everyone's ideas or behavior. On the contrary, it can call us to confront those who hide Christ from us. But whether we confront or affirm, criticize or praise, we can only become fruitful when our words and actions come from hearts that love the Church.
The Authority of Compassion
The Church often wounds us deeply. People with religious authority often wound us by their words, attitudes, and demands. Precisely because our religion brings us in touch with the questions of life and death, our religious sensibilities can get hurt most easily. Ministers and priests seldom fully realize how a critical remark, a gesture of rejection, or an act of impatience can be remembered for life by those to whom it is directed.
There is such an enormous hunger for meaning in life, for comfort and consolation, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for restoration and healing, that anyone who has any authority in the Church should constantly be reminded that the best word to characterize religious authority is compassion. Let's keep looking at Jesus whose authority was expressed in compassion.
Forgiving the Church
When we have been wounded by the Church, our temptation is to reject it. But when we reject the Church it becomes very hard for us to keep in touch with the living Christ. When we say, "I love Jesus, but I hate the Church," we end up losing not only the Church but Jesus too. The challenge is to forgive the Church. This challenge is especially great because the Church seldom asks us for forgiveness, at least not officially. But the Church as an often fallible human organization needs our forgiveness, while the Church as the living Christ among us continues to offer us forgiveness.
It is important to think about the Church not as "over there" but as a community of struggling, weak people of whom we are part and in whom we meet our Lord and Redeemer.
High on the Dislike List
Okay, I actually probably hate this, more than just simply disliking it, but either way, it's high on my list of NOT happy things. What is it you ask? Well, let me tell you. It's waking up cold. Or waking up semi-warm, and knowing that if you move half an inch in any direction in your bed, you'll be cold. And, it's the dreaded moment when you have to pull those covers off your body, and step out onto the cold floor (I generally keep my slippers handy) and start getting ready for the day.
And why, you ask, do I so passionately dislike waking up cold?? Well, it's because if I'm cold in the morning, I generally have a very difficult time getting warm at any point that day. So, waking up cold leads to another one of my great dislikes - being cold in general.
And why am I mentioning this today?? Because I'm laying here in bed, shivering slightly, knowing that the blankets are like ice if I move half an inch in any direction, and that, in about a minute, I need to throw those blankets off, and start another work week. Ick. What a way to start a week.
And why, you ask, do I so passionately dislike waking up cold?? Well, it's because if I'm cold in the morning, I generally have a very difficult time getting warm at any point that day. So, waking up cold leads to another one of my great dislikes - being cold in general.
And why am I mentioning this today?? Because I'm laying here in bed, shivering slightly, knowing that the blankets are like ice if I move half an inch in any direction, and that, in about a minute, I need to throw those blankets off, and start another work week. Ick. What a way to start a week.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Three Words
It was, in some ways, a rough weekend again.
But there are three word statements that are standing out, and speaking hope to my heart.
"I love you." Spoken by a few special people over the course of the weekend, and always precious, but most dearly for me, by a three year old boy, and accompanied by a hug. There's something awfully calming and healing in the love of a child.
"You are lovely." Spoken by a dear friend, one who knows my heart deeply, and words I needed to hear in the midst of the harder spaces I've occupied this last while.
"You are mine." Whispered by Jesus, in the midst of a deep moment in a favorite spot. And again much needed.
But there are three word statements that are standing out, and speaking hope to my heart.
"I love you." Spoken by a few special people over the course of the weekend, and always precious, but most dearly for me, by a three year old boy, and accompanied by a hug. There's something awfully calming and healing in the love of a child.
"You are lovely." Spoken by a dear friend, one who knows my heart deeply, and words I needed to hear in the midst of the harder spaces I've occupied this last while.
"You are mine." Whispered by Jesus, in the midst of a deep moment in a favorite spot. And again much needed.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Away
I'm heading out of town for the weekend again tonight.
To see some friends, hang with their kids, pray for them through the course of some important stuff, and maybe spend some time alone at one of my favorite places to meet with Jesus.
There's lots of potential for intensity and crazyness. Pray for me as I pray for them.
To see some friends, hang with their kids, pray for them through the course of some important stuff, and maybe spend some time alone at one of my favorite places to meet with Jesus.
There's lots of potential for intensity and crazyness. Pray for me as I pray for them.
Headlines
I'm at home again today. Still relatively sick. Staying home for the whole day this time. Resting. Sleeping. Reading. Watching. Listening. Writing.
In the meantime, here are a few headlines that are catching my attention...
Romanian Authorities say Jewish Graves Vandalized
Raped Indian Nun Denounces Police
Rwandans Jailed for Priest Deaths
In the meantime, here are a few headlines that are catching my attention...
Romanian Authorities say Jewish Graves Vandalized
Raped Indian Nun Denounces Police
Rwandans Jailed for Priest Deaths
Laughter Bound
I have been much captivated by a dream I had last week that led me to the story of Isaac bound on the altar. While I can't widely share the dream in a public forum right now, I am captivated by the image of Isaac laying bound on that altar.
By this fulfillment of God's promise bound and ready to die.
Isaac means laughter, or he laughs.
I am caught by the idea of laughter lying bound on an altar.
Of laughter being bound.
Of laughter as the sacrifice.
This is one of those moments when I wish I could draw or paint, so that I could share the things I've seen in the dream, and in my head as I've spent time with this passage this week.
Rembrandt painted his version of the story in the seventeenth century, and of the images I've looked at so far, I like his "The Sacrifice of Isaac" the best.
By this fulfillment of God's promise bound and ready to die.
Isaac means laughter, or he laughs.
I am caught by the idea of laughter lying bound on an altar.
Of laughter being bound.
Of laughter as the sacrifice.
This is one of those moments when I wish I could draw or paint, so that I could share the things I've seen in the dream, and in my head as I've spent time with this passage this week.
Rembrandt painted his version of the story in the seventeenth century, and of the images I've looked at so far, I like his "The Sacrifice of Isaac" the best.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sigh
The day is over.
Grey's Anatomy is on.
I'm wearing pjs and curled up on the couch.
Grey's Anatomy, and then bed. Maybe paint my fingernails somewhere in there.
I have a dear friend who regularly reminds me that I am loved, and that, with her at least, I fit. Funny how that helps, even on the days when it can't quite penetrate fully.
One more day of work.
And then some little things that are helping me believe tonight that I'm going to make it.
Words of hope spoken at an event I attended.
A new book, purchased at the event I attended, that I'm looking forward to curling up with. "Bent Hope" it's called.
The promise of a hug tomorrow night from the friend who reminds me so regularly that I am loved.
A plan to spend some time with some kids I love this weekend. I'm still amazed by just how calming and healing the hugs and laughter of children can be.
Time spent with my "baby" brother tonight - the one member of my immediate family with whom I feel totally safe being myself. (And one who has learned much wisdom in suffering. He made a point tonight that will stick with me as I step into this weekend and these next weeks.)
Lunch plans at work with a friend and coworker tomorrow.
Casual Friday - jeans to work.
Grey's Anatomy is on.
I'm wearing pjs and curled up on the couch.
Grey's Anatomy, and then bed. Maybe paint my fingernails somewhere in there.
I have a dear friend who regularly reminds me that I am loved, and that, with her at least, I fit. Funny how that helps, even on the days when it can't quite penetrate fully.
One more day of work.
And then some little things that are helping me believe tonight that I'm going to make it.
Words of hope spoken at an event I attended.
A new book, purchased at the event I attended, that I'm looking forward to curling up with. "Bent Hope" it's called.
The promise of a hug tomorrow night from the friend who reminds me so regularly that I am loved.
A plan to spend some time with some kids I love this weekend. I'm still amazed by just how calming and healing the hugs and laughter of children can be.
Time spent with my "baby" brother tonight - the one member of my immediate family with whom I feel totally safe being myself. (And one who has learned much wisdom in suffering. He made a point tonight that will stick with me as I step into this weekend and these next weeks.)
Lunch plans at work with a friend and coworker tomorrow.
Casual Friday - jeans to work.
Re-Create
I didn't sleep much again last night.
I stayed home this morning. I'll go in to the office for the afternoon, but I couldn't make it out of bed this morning. I was ill, and exhausted.
I'm still exhausted. I'm beginning to think that it's a state that is never going to go away.
And I'm still only seconds from tears. There's a journaling excercise I'm going to try in a few minutes to alleviate some of that, but who knows...
And worse yet, my house, this morning, with both of roommates off at their jobs, is the best it's been in weeks.
No living with a pair of best friends when yours is distant.
No wedding discussions.
Nothing to underscore how lonely I've felt.
No need to put up a facade of practicality and happiness.
No need to resent them for being so consumed with weddings and ignoring the dozens of little things around the house that need to be done.
Just quiet.
But I'm avoiding the quiet too. Because quiet and stillness is an invitation for Jesus to show up and start talking, and then the surreal nature of life lately tends to intensify.
So I'm going to self-help.
I'm going to write my way through a journalling exercise that has always tended to expose the pains of my heart. And then I'm going to pray.
And then I'm going to shower. In my newly unclogged bathtub (which no one thanked me for fixing by the way.) With mango body scrub from the body shop. And shave my legs, and generally just relax for a little while until I have to leave for work. I'm going to put on clothes that make me feel pretty, and style my hair (since I'm going out to a special event after work with my brother anyhow) and put on makeup.
For the afternoon, I'm going to re-create myself. Just for a little while. And if it works, then I'll do it again and again until I start believing again that I really am someone who fits, who has a home, who is strong, who was created in the image of God, who can be beautiful, and who is loved.
I stayed home this morning. I'll go in to the office for the afternoon, but I couldn't make it out of bed this morning. I was ill, and exhausted.
I'm still exhausted. I'm beginning to think that it's a state that is never going to go away.
And I'm still only seconds from tears. There's a journaling excercise I'm going to try in a few minutes to alleviate some of that, but who knows...
And worse yet, my house, this morning, with both of roommates off at their jobs, is the best it's been in weeks.
No living with a pair of best friends when yours is distant.
No wedding discussions.
Nothing to underscore how lonely I've felt.
No need to put up a facade of practicality and happiness.
No need to resent them for being so consumed with weddings and ignoring the dozens of little things around the house that need to be done.
Just quiet.
But I'm avoiding the quiet too. Because quiet and stillness is an invitation for Jesus to show up and start talking, and then the surreal nature of life lately tends to intensify.
So I'm going to self-help.
I'm going to write my way through a journalling exercise that has always tended to expose the pains of my heart. And then I'm going to pray.
And then I'm going to shower. In my newly unclogged bathtub (which no one thanked me for fixing by the way.) With mango body scrub from the body shop. And shave my legs, and generally just relax for a little while until I have to leave for work. I'm going to put on clothes that make me feel pretty, and style my hair (since I'm going out to a special event after work with my brother anyhow) and put on makeup.
For the afternoon, I'm going to re-create myself. Just for a little while. And if it works, then I'll do it again and again until I start believing again that I really am someone who fits, who has a home, who is strong, who was created in the image of God, who can be beautiful, and who is loved.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Surreal Becomes Overwhelming
At about 6:30 tonight I hit overload.
Some combination of loneliness, lack of sleep, lack of a place to belong, work and personal stress, laundry, and a clogged bathtub.
I've been in tears, or near tears ever since.
I've unclogged a bathtub (and can I just say that I could kiss whoever invented drano).
I've driven to do an errand, and had a desperate conversation with God while driving.
I've talked (briefly) with a dear friend.
And now, now I'm going to attempt sleep. I'm going to fall asleep with a video of my favorite television show playing, and I'm going to pray that, just for one night, surreal will take a break.
Because I can deal with surreal, or I can deal with practical. But just at this moment I can't deal with both at once. I can't deal with dreams and relational stuff and God things, and still have energy left for laundry and making dinner and a clogged bathtub.
On nights like this I would normally call my best friend and laugh. I'd let intensity, and all that is surreal be put aside for an hour or two in favor of laughter (and possibly triple chocolate freezer cake), and her painting little tiny flowers on my toenails with a toothpick or a bobby pin. Because in a way that few others can, M. would understand why a clogged bathtub was just absolutely the last straw, and brought me to tears, and I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure it wasn't clogged anymore by the end of the night. (It isn't.)
But M. is in Pakistan, bringing babies into the world, and other than a few emails, I haven't talked with her since the beginning of September. So I settled for taking out my latent agression on a bathtub that was totally scummy after a week of slow draining. And then I took a shower. In a clean, unclogged bathtub.
And now, I'm going to try desperately to sleep. (Dreamlessly if I'm lucky.)
Some combination of loneliness, lack of sleep, lack of a place to belong, work and personal stress, laundry, and a clogged bathtub.
I've been in tears, or near tears ever since.
I've unclogged a bathtub (and can I just say that I could kiss whoever invented drano).
I've driven to do an errand, and had a desperate conversation with God while driving.
I've talked (briefly) with a dear friend.
And now, now I'm going to attempt sleep. I'm going to fall asleep with a video of my favorite television show playing, and I'm going to pray that, just for one night, surreal will take a break.
Because I can deal with surreal, or I can deal with practical. But just at this moment I can't deal with both at once. I can't deal with dreams and relational stuff and God things, and still have energy left for laundry and making dinner and a clogged bathtub.
On nights like this I would normally call my best friend and laugh. I'd let intensity, and all that is surreal be put aside for an hour or two in favor of laughter (and possibly triple chocolate freezer cake), and her painting little tiny flowers on my toenails with a toothpick or a bobby pin. Because in a way that few others can, M. would understand why a clogged bathtub was just absolutely the last straw, and brought me to tears, and I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure it wasn't clogged anymore by the end of the night. (It isn't.)
But M. is in Pakistan, bringing babies into the world, and other than a few emails, I haven't talked with her since the beginning of September. So I settled for taking out my latent agression on a bathtub that was totally scummy after a week of slow draining. And then I took a shower. In a clean, unclogged bathtub.
And now, I'm going to try desperately to sleep. (Dreamlessly if I'm lucky.)
Wedding Central
One of my roommates is getting married next summer.
And I suddenly find myself living in wedding central. It is driving me CRAZY!
I would swear to you that since she became engaged, every conversation we've had has revolved around dresses and cocktail receptions, and do the guys wear vests or not, and flowers and colors.
Right now in the background the conversation is how many chairs, and when will the cake be cut, and how long will people stay at the reception. We've already discussed flowers, and bridesmaid dress styles ad infinitum.
She's already bought a dress and found a venue. The most significant details are taken care of. And yet, I live in 24/7 wedding central.
And the kicker is this: The wedding is still nine months away.
I'm not sure I'm going to survive the next nine months.
Right now, the two weeks at Christmas when both of my roommates will be out of the country are looking better and better.
In the meantime, I'm trying to do laundry, and waiting for a long enough pause in the conversation to enlist one of my roommates to help me attempt a new method of unclogging our clogged bathtub drain. (If I can get the drain unclogged, at least I can retreat to the quiet of the bathroom and soak in a long, hot, bubble bath.)
And I suddenly find myself living in wedding central. It is driving me CRAZY!
I would swear to you that since she became engaged, every conversation we've had has revolved around dresses and cocktail receptions, and do the guys wear vests or not, and flowers and colors.
Right now in the background the conversation is how many chairs, and when will the cake be cut, and how long will people stay at the reception. We've already discussed flowers, and bridesmaid dress styles ad infinitum.
She's already bought a dress and found a venue. The most significant details are taken care of. And yet, I live in 24/7 wedding central.
And the kicker is this: The wedding is still nine months away.
I'm not sure I'm going to survive the next nine months.
Right now, the two weeks at Christmas when both of my roommates will be out of the country are looking better and better.
In the meantime, I'm trying to do laundry, and waiting for a long enough pause in the conversation to enlist one of my roommates to help me attempt a new method of unclogging our clogged bathtub drain. (If I can get the drain unclogged, at least I can retreat to the quiet of the bathroom and soak in a long, hot, bubble bath.)
The Garden of the Saints
another great thought from Henri Nouwen...
The Garden of the Saints
The Church is a very human organization but also the garden of God's grace. It is a place where great sanctity keeps blooming. It is a place where great sanctity keeps blooming. Saints are people who make the living Christ visible to us in a special way. Some saints have given their lives in the service of Christ and his Church; others have spoken and written words that keep nurturing us; some have lived heroically in difficult situations; others have remained hidden in quiet lives of prayer and meditation; some were prophetic voices calling for renewal; others were spiritual strategists setting up large organizations or networks of people; some were healthy and strong; others were quite sick, and often anxious and insecure.
But all of them in their own ways lived in the Church as in a garden where they heard the voice calling them the Beloved and where they found the courage to make Jesus the center of their lives.
The Garden of the Saints
The Church is a very human organization but also the garden of God's grace. It is a place where great sanctity keeps blooming. It is a place where great sanctity keeps blooming. Saints are people who make the living Christ visible to us in a special way. Some saints have given their lives in the service of Christ and his Church; others have spoken and written words that keep nurturing us; some have lived heroically in difficult situations; others have remained hidden in quiet lives of prayer and meditation; some were prophetic voices calling for renewal; others were spiritual strategists setting up large organizations or networks of people; some were healthy and strong; others were quite sick, and often anxious and insecure.
But all of them in their own ways lived in the Church as in a garden where they heard the voice calling them the Beloved and where they found the courage to make Jesus the center of their lives.
Live Inside Hope
The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope.
- Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
- Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Juxtaposed
My life, just at this moment, seems to be a bizarre juxtaposition of the completely surreal and the completely practical.
It seems my life has yet again been hijacked by Jesus. And that hijacking is resulting in some completely surreal experiences. (And a serious lack of sleep.)
On the other hand, there are some completely practical things consuming me as well.
Like the desperate need to do laundry (especially since I may be going away for the weekend again.)
Like the 125 dollars poorer I am after my laptop cable needed to be replaced tonight.
Like the library books that need to either be renewed or returned this week.
Like the recycling that needs to go to the bottle depot and is sitting in George's trunk just presently.
And a clogged bathtub drain. Does anyone know how to rectify a clogged bathtub drain without calling a plumber? Or, more practically yet, does anyone out there want to come over and fix my clogged bathtub drain for me (without calling a plumber??).
This is my juxtaposed, surreal, practical life (and despite the dozens of frustrations and wrestles in both of those categories, tonight I don't think I'd trade it.)
It seems my life has yet again been hijacked by Jesus. And that hijacking is resulting in some completely surreal experiences. (And a serious lack of sleep.)
On the other hand, there are some completely practical things consuming me as well.
Like the desperate need to do laundry (especially since I may be going away for the weekend again.)
Like the 125 dollars poorer I am after my laptop cable needed to be replaced tonight.
Like the library books that need to either be renewed or returned this week.
Like the recycling that needs to go to the bottle depot and is sitting in George's trunk just presently.
And a clogged bathtub drain. Does anyone know how to rectify a clogged bathtub drain without calling a plumber? Or, more practically yet, does anyone out there want to come over and fix my clogged bathtub drain for me (without calling a plumber??).
This is my juxtaposed, surreal, practical life (and despite the dozens of frustrations and wrestles in both of those categories, tonight I don't think I'd trade it.)
Headlines
I'm in the midst of scrambling to get some projects finished, and to take some time to simply quiet myself and write. (all of which were complicated by the sudden failure of my laptop power cord tonight, and the subsequent rush to the only store still open with a prayer that they would have a replacement. they thankfully did, but my wallet is significantly skinnier than it was an hour ago. ah well...)
Anyway... in the midst of everything else, here are a couple of headlines that caught my attention today...
Crackdown Vowed After Tanzanian Albino Girl Killed, Mutilated
Human Heads Sent to Mexico Police
Anyway... in the midst of everything else, here are a couple of headlines that caught my attention today...
Crackdown Vowed After Tanzanian Albino Girl Killed, Mutilated
Human Heads Sent to Mexico Police
Monday, October 20, 2008
Henri Nouwen on Church
more thoughts from Henri Nouwen...
Called out of Slavery
The Church is the people of God. The Latin word for "church," ecclesia, comes from the Greek ek, which means "out," and kaleo, which means "to call." The Church is the people of God called out of slavery to freedom, sin to salvation, despair to hope, darkness to light, an existence centered on death to an existence focused on life.
When we think of Church we have to think of a body of people, travelling together. We have to envision women, men, and children of all ages, races, and societies supporting one another on their long and often tiresome journeys to their final home.
The Church, Spotless and Tainted
The Church is holy and sinful, spotless and tainted. The Church is the bride of Christ, who washed her in cleansing water and took her to himself "with no speck or wrinkle or anything like that, but holy and faultless" (Ephesians 5:26-27). The Church too is a group of sinful, confused, anguished people constantly tempted by the powers of lust and greed and always entangled in rivalry and competition.
When we say that the Church is a body, we refer not only to the holy and faultless body made Christ-like through baptism and Eucharist but also to the broken bodies of all the people who are its members. Only when we keep both these ways of thinking and speaking together can we live in the Church as true followers of Jesus.
Believing in the Church
The Church is an object of faith. In the Apostles' Creed we pray: "I believe in God, the Father, ... in Jesus Christ, his only Son in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting." We must believe in the Church! The Apostles' Creed does not say that the Church is an organization that helps us to believe in God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. No, we are called to believe in the Church with the same faith we believe in God.
Often it seems harder to believe in the Church than to believe in God. But whenever we separate our belief in God from our belief in the Church, we become unbelievers. God has given us the Church as the place where God becomes God-with-us.
Called out of Slavery
The Church is the people of God. The Latin word for "church," ecclesia, comes from the Greek ek, which means "out," and kaleo, which means "to call." The Church is the people of God called out of slavery to freedom, sin to salvation, despair to hope, darkness to light, an existence centered on death to an existence focused on life.
When we think of Church we have to think of a body of people, travelling together. We have to envision women, men, and children of all ages, races, and societies supporting one another on their long and often tiresome journeys to their final home.
The Church, Spotless and Tainted
The Church is holy and sinful, spotless and tainted. The Church is the bride of Christ, who washed her in cleansing water and took her to himself "with no speck or wrinkle or anything like that, but holy and faultless" (Ephesians 5:26-27). The Church too is a group of sinful, confused, anguished people constantly tempted by the powers of lust and greed and always entangled in rivalry and competition.
When we say that the Church is a body, we refer not only to the holy and faultless body made Christ-like through baptism and Eucharist but also to the broken bodies of all the people who are its members. Only when we keep both these ways of thinking and speaking together can we live in the Church as true followers of Jesus.
Believing in the Church
The Church is an object of faith. In the Apostles' Creed we pray: "I believe in God, the Father, ... in Jesus Christ, his only Son in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting." We must believe in the Church! The Apostles' Creed does not say that the Church is an organization that helps us to believe in God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. No, we are called to believe in the Church with the same faith we believe in God.
Often it seems harder to believe in the Church than to believe in God. But whenever we separate our belief in God from our belief in the Church, we become unbelievers. God has given us the Church as the place where God becomes God-with-us.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Monastery Stays
Liked this article... will definitely have to look into this option the next time I go to Europe.
Praise You In This Storm
I was at the church I grew up in this morning for the first time in a long while, because my brother had asked me to attend. He is now on staff at the church as their worship pastor, but a worship band that he is a part of from his bible college was playing at the church this morning, and T. had asked several times if I would attend.
One of the girls on the worship band sang this song, and oh, it caught at me.
My heart is tender and broken today, wrestling with many things seen and heard, and as she sang, just for a few moments, Jesus drew near.
So needed in the midst of a very hard day.
Hard Sunday
This has been "one of those days."
I'm going grocery shopping in a few minutes. I need to get out of the house and forget for a bit.
I'm haunted by a pair of eyes I saw recently. Not in a good way.
I'm amazed by how much the embrace of a child can soothe and heal.
I'm craving chocolate.
I want cookies, without the work of making cookies.
I'm wondering where I "fit" in the world, and how long it will be until I find that place? Shouldn't I have that place already at 25?
I went to church this morning for the first time in a while.
I'm caught by a song the guest musicians sang, "Praise You in this Storm."
I'm thinking about blood and water and life and death and birth.
And now I'm going grocery shopping for a while.
I'm going grocery shopping in a few minutes. I need to get out of the house and forget for a bit.
I'm haunted by a pair of eyes I saw recently. Not in a good way.
I'm amazed by how much the embrace of a child can soothe and heal.
I'm craving chocolate.
I want cookies, without the work of making cookies.
I'm wondering where I "fit" in the world, and how long it will be until I find that place? Shouldn't I have that place already at 25?
I went to church this morning for the first time in a while.
I'm caught by a song the guest musicians sang, "Praise You in this Storm."
I'm thinking about blood and water and life and death and birth.
And now I'm going grocery shopping for a while.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Article Worth Reading
I received a link to this article in an email from 24-7 Prayer this morning, and was captivated by it. I wasn't surprised, either, when a friend also posted a link to it on facebook, and other friends responded.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Not Knowing What to Say
There are a number of things in my life right now that are frustrating me.
Things that are up in the air.
Things that are confused or damaged.
Things where I just can't find the words to know what to say.
Things where every response seems equally bad.
I'm thinking about mountains and coastlines. About waves and islands and standing on walls. I'm thinking about energy and exhaustion. About roses. About eyes that see and ears that hear, and hearts that understand. About relationships and loneliness, and the things that underscore the loneliness. About the longing for family, and a place to call home. About how different my life is today than what I would have predicted a year ago. About definitions of joy and hope and peace. About Isaac (whose name means laughter) laying bound on an altar, trusting his father, who was also trusting, that a ram would be provided. About Hannah, weeping in deep anguish, crying bitterly, in such distress that she was accused of being drunk. About waiting for her prayer to be answered, and then offering the answer to that prayer back to the Lord for his service. About the line of scripture that speaks of weeping that endures for a night and joy coming in the morning. I'm thinking about the morning not so very long ago when I woke suddenly, startled by some unheard voice, and the words that rolled instinctually from my lips, were those of Hannah's son, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening."
My heart is restless.
I lay with Isaac and wait for the ram.
I weep with Hannah, and wait for morning, crying bitterly.
And I say again with Samuel, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening."
And I pray for the process of birthing. For a birth that is smooth, and happens quickly, and is filled with health.
Things that are up in the air.
Things that are confused or damaged.
Things where I just can't find the words to know what to say.
Things where every response seems equally bad.
I'm thinking about mountains and coastlines. About waves and islands and standing on walls. I'm thinking about energy and exhaustion. About roses. About eyes that see and ears that hear, and hearts that understand. About relationships and loneliness, and the things that underscore the loneliness. About the longing for family, and a place to call home. About how different my life is today than what I would have predicted a year ago. About definitions of joy and hope and peace. About Isaac (whose name means laughter) laying bound on an altar, trusting his father, who was also trusting, that a ram would be provided. About Hannah, weeping in deep anguish, crying bitterly, in such distress that she was accused of being drunk. About waiting for her prayer to be answered, and then offering the answer to that prayer back to the Lord for his service. About the line of scripture that speaks of weeping that endures for a night and joy coming in the morning. I'm thinking about the morning not so very long ago when I woke suddenly, startled by some unheard voice, and the words that rolled instinctually from my lips, were those of Hannah's son, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening."
My heart is restless.
I lay with Isaac and wait for the ram.
I weep with Hannah, and wait for morning, crying bitterly.
And I say again with Samuel, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening."
And I pray for the process of birthing. For a birth that is smooth, and happens quickly, and is filled with health.
When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there's no getting around it. But when the baby is born, there is joy in the birth. This new life in the world wipes out memory of the pain. The sadness you have right now is similar to that pain, but the coming joy is also similar. When I see you again, you'll be full of joy, and it will be a joy no one can rob from you. You'll no longer be so full of questions. (John 16:21-23, The Message)
Baptism and Eucharist: Spiritual Pillars
Another great thought from Henri Nouwen...
The Pillars of the Church
The two main sacraments, baptism and the Eucharist, are the spiritual pillars of the Church. They are not simply instruments by which the Church exercises its ministry. They are not just means by which we become and remain members of the Church but belong to the essence of the Church. Without these sacraments there is no Church. The Church is the body of Christ fashioned by baptism and the Eucharist. When people are baptised in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and when they gather around the table of Christ and receive his Body and Blood, they become the people of God, called the Church.
The Pillars of the Church
The two main sacraments, baptism and the Eucharist, are the spiritual pillars of the Church. They are not simply instruments by which the Church exercises its ministry. They are not just means by which we become and remain members of the Church but belong to the essence of the Church. Without these sacraments there is no Church. The Church is the body of Christ fashioned by baptism and the Eucharist. When people are baptised in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and when they gather around the table of Christ and receive his Body and Blood, they become the people of God, called the Church.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Really Present - Henri Nouwen
Another thought from Henri Nouwen:
Really Present
Where is Jesus today? Jesus is where those who believe in him and express that belief in baptism and the Eucharist become one body. As long as we think about the body of believers as a group of people who share a common faith in Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus remains an inspirational historical figure. But when we realise that the body Jesus fashions in the Eucharist is his body, we can start to see what real presence is. Jesus, who is present in the gifts of his Body and Blood, becomes present in the body of believers that is formed by these gifts. We who receive the Body of Christ become the living Christ.
Really Present
Where is Jesus today? Jesus is where those who believe in him and express that belief in baptism and the Eucharist become one body. As long as we think about the body of believers as a group of people who share a common faith in Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus remains an inspirational historical figure. But when we realise that the body Jesus fashions in the Eucharist is his body, we can start to see what real presence is. Jesus, who is present in the gifts of his Body and Blood, becomes present in the body of believers that is formed by these gifts. We who receive the Body of Christ become the living Christ.
Deepening the Passage of Baptism - Henri Nouwen
Deepening the Passage of Baptism
In and through the celebration of the Eucharist, Jesus' death and resurrection become a reality for us here and now. As we eat and drink from the Body and Blood of Christ, our mortal bodies become united with the risen Christ. Thus our deaths, like Jesus' death, means not destruction but passage to new life.
In this way the Eucharist deepens and strengthens in us the passage that we first made through baptism. The Eucharist is the sacrament that allows us to appropriate fully our baptismal grace.
In and through the celebration of the Eucharist, Jesus' death and resurrection become a reality for us here and now. As we eat and drink from the Body and Blood of Christ, our mortal bodies become united with the risen Christ. Thus our deaths, like Jesus' death, means not destruction but passage to new life.
In this way the Eucharist deepens and strengthens in us the passage that we first made through baptism. The Eucharist is the sacrament that allows us to appropriate fully our baptismal grace.
Today
Last night was again a "weird" night of sleep. Good to be in my own bed, but odd and interrupted. And yet, my heart is quiet this morning. It's at rest, and yet wandering the globe.
Today my heart is praying:
Today my heart is praying:
- for a dear friend whom "the water knows"
- for someone celebrating a birthday
- for my uncle and his family as they grieve the death of a loved one
- for a long-time friend who is waiting for some changes to finally happen
- for two sets of friends starting out on the journey of married life
- for a new friend who works with broken young people
- for a much loved and missed friend on the other side of the world (and her fiancee who is waiting for her here)
- for a little boy who often greets me with "I ike you"
- for a number of dear friends facing uncertainty
- for one who is walking the other way
- for the healing and restoration of relationships
- that arms that long for children would be filled
- that hands and a voice that were filled with music would no longer be silenced
- for the "coming joy"
- for sabbatical, rest, and the shift into the things that make our hearts come alive
- for Canada, as we vote today, and select those who will govern for the next season
- for a gentler winter
- for eyes and ears and hearts
- for friends scattered and relationships broken
- for a soldier and his family
Monday, October 13, 2008
Waiting for Home
I'm sitting in the Toronto airport.
It's 6:15 am in my home time zone. I've been up since 11:00 pm yesterday in my home time zone. I slept two hours before that. And I slept for two hours or so on the plane from Newfoundland to Toronto.
It was a good weekend. Filled with friends (family, really), laughter, love, prayer and hugs. Some harder things too. But good.
And now, now I'm ready to be home for a while. To settle into life. To rest. To pray and think and write. To sort out several major decisions that need to be made. To begin the process of seeking a community of believers in my own city to call home for a while.
I'm looking forward to my own bed, my own house, my own car (assuming we can get George started after the non-starting debacle that immediately proceeded my weekend away.)
I'm near tears, the good kind and the not so good kind.
I spent a lot of time this weekend in the arms of a dear friend, one of the few people in the world with whom I feel totally safe, and free to be myself. It's always hard to say goodbye to her, and this morning was no exception. But it was such a treat to be with her and be held by her and to hold her even for a few days.
It was great to watch two friends get married. It was great to sit in a tiny cafe by the Atlantic Ocean and laugh and talk over a shared breakfast with friends. It was great to sit in a pub, and a house, and various other locations and share laughter and food. It was good to hike by the ocean.
But now, sitting here in Toronto, half-way through a 2.5 hour layover, I'm waiting for home. I'm looking forward to seeing whichever family member greets me at the airport. I'm looking forward to hopefully getting George jump-started, and then taking him for a drive towards the mountains to charge his battery. I'm looking forward to cooking my own dinner, and then a nice early arrival in bed - in my own bed and bedroom.
One hour to go until my flight boards. Then (hopefully) a couple hours of sleep on the plane. Then Home. A safe place.
Home is a good thing to have locationally. Home is a good thing to have in general.
I have a locational home in Calgary. I have a spiritual home in Jesus, and in the company of some of the friends with whom I shared the weekend. I have an emotional home in the arms of a friend.
Places of safety all.
It will be good to be home.
(And to those of you who are Canadian, Happy Thanksgiving!)
It's 6:15 am in my home time zone. I've been up since 11:00 pm yesterday in my home time zone. I slept two hours before that. And I slept for two hours or so on the plane from Newfoundland to Toronto.
It was a good weekend. Filled with friends (family, really), laughter, love, prayer and hugs. Some harder things too. But good.
And now, now I'm ready to be home for a while. To settle into life. To rest. To pray and think and write. To sort out several major decisions that need to be made. To begin the process of seeking a community of believers in my own city to call home for a while.
I'm looking forward to my own bed, my own house, my own car (assuming we can get George started after the non-starting debacle that immediately proceeded my weekend away.)
I'm near tears, the good kind and the not so good kind.
I spent a lot of time this weekend in the arms of a dear friend, one of the few people in the world with whom I feel totally safe, and free to be myself. It's always hard to say goodbye to her, and this morning was no exception. But it was such a treat to be with her and be held by her and to hold her even for a few days.
It was great to watch two friends get married. It was great to sit in a tiny cafe by the Atlantic Ocean and laugh and talk over a shared breakfast with friends. It was great to sit in a pub, and a house, and various other locations and share laughter and food. It was good to hike by the ocean.
But now, sitting here in Toronto, half-way through a 2.5 hour layover, I'm waiting for home. I'm looking forward to seeing whichever family member greets me at the airport. I'm looking forward to hopefully getting George jump-started, and then taking him for a drive towards the mountains to charge his battery. I'm looking forward to cooking my own dinner, and then a nice early arrival in bed - in my own bed and bedroom.
One hour to go until my flight boards. Then (hopefully) a couple hours of sleep on the plane. Then Home. A safe place.
Home is a good thing to have locationally. Home is a good thing to have in general.
I have a locational home in Calgary. I have a spiritual home in Jesus, and in the company of some of the friends with whom I shared the weekend. I have an emotional home in the arms of a friend.
Places of safety all.
It will be good to be home.
(And to those of you who are Canadian, Happy Thanksgiving!)
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Wednesday afternoon
Not much time left in what has been a very busy workday.
I get on an airplane headed east at just before midnight tonight.
I'm heading for the Easternmost parts of Canada to connect with friends, and celebrate the wedding of some other friends.
Lots of little things that still need to come together tonight before I get on the plane.
Unexpected things are slowing me down. (George wouldn't start this morning, meaning I had to take the train to work, and will have to take it home.)
But the workday is nearly over, and for that I'm grateful.
Blogging will likely be scarce through the weekend.
I'll be back in Calgary on Monday.
See you then.
I get on an airplane headed east at just before midnight tonight.
I'm heading for the Easternmost parts of Canada to connect with friends, and celebrate the wedding of some other friends.
Lots of little things that still need to come together tonight before I get on the plane.
Unexpected things are slowing me down. (George wouldn't start this morning, meaning I had to take the train to work, and will have to take it home.)
But the workday is nearly over, and for that I'm grateful.
Blogging will likely be scarce through the weekend.
I'll be back in Calgary on Monday.
See you then.
Jesus Living Among Us - Henri Nouwen
Jesus Living Among Us
The Eucharist is the place where Jesus becomes most present to us because he becomes not only the Christ living within us but also the Christ living among us. Just as the disciples at Emmaus who had recognised Jesus in the breaking of the bread discovered a new intimacy between themselves and found the courage to return to their friends, we who have received the Body and Blood of Jesus will find a new unity among ourselves. As we realise that Christ lives within us, we also come to realise that Christ lives among us and makes us into a body of people witnessing together to the presence of Christ in the world.
The Eucharist is the place where Jesus becomes most present to us because he becomes not only the Christ living within us but also the Christ living among us. Just as the disciples at Emmaus who had recognised Jesus in the breaking of the bread discovered a new intimacy between themselves and found the courage to return to their friends, we who have received the Body and Blood of Jesus will find a new unity among ourselves. As we realise that Christ lives within us, we also come to realise that Christ lives among us and makes us into a body of people witnessing together to the presence of Christ in the world.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Missing Her
It's in the little things.
The moments of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.
The little neuroses and the teasing about each other's little neuroses.
Freezer cake and a Grey's Anatomy marathon after a really bad day.
Apparently Santa doesn't wear clothing in the off-season. He doesn't sleep in a bed either.
Road trips, and stopping to buy special chocolate milk for a wedding toast.
"squeeky" cheese curds.
Sweet chili chicken, skinny fries, diva salads, and club-med sandwiches at Joey's.
Hanging out for an hour or two before she works a night shift.
Prayers together in a dark car.
Dinner once a week or so, and the occasional girly movie.
Stories about the slightly insane old people on the unit she works on. (I'll never forget the one where she was chased by an old man with a cane, who didn't speak a word of English, and who had previously barricaded the door to his room... or the one about the woman who wandered off so often that they pinned a note to the back of her hospital gown that read "if found, return to unit so and so"... or the one about mashing the sedatives into the filling of the patient's sandwich to get her to sleep...)
Shopping together. Not many can survive a shopping trip with her. She hates shopping, but seems to do it on a regular basis.
Packing for a road trip in a laundry basket, and packing to move houses (again) in exactly the same fashion.
Driving across the city on a whim to hit a particular store or restaurant.
Laughing in the greeting card aisle while on a quest to find the "perfect" sentiments for the people we love.
Teasing and laughing while shopping for lingerie showers for friends.
The everyday stuff of life.
The stuff that isn't intense. Not talking about the dreams or all the harder things, unless I really need to.
I hadn't realized how much sanity those little things brought to my life.
She's on the other side of the globe, working in a tiny hospital, trying to learn an impossibly difficult language, desperately missing the guy she'll marry next summer when she returns from Asia.
I miss her tonight. And I miss all the fun and sanity she brings to my life.
Praying for her, for the things she's asked, and for Jesus to meet with her in the midst of the things she's doing, and the things she's struggling with.
She's on my heart tonight, this best friend of mine. And I miss her.
The moments of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.
The little neuroses and the teasing about each other's little neuroses.
Freezer cake and a Grey's Anatomy marathon after a really bad day.
Apparently Santa doesn't wear clothing in the off-season. He doesn't sleep in a bed either.
Road trips, and stopping to buy special chocolate milk for a wedding toast.
"squeeky" cheese curds.
Sweet chili chicken, skinny fries, diva salads, and club-med sandwiches at Joey's.
Hanging out for an hour or two before she works a night shift.
Prayers together in a dark car.
Dinner once a week or so, and the occasional girly movie.
Stories about the slightly insane old people on the unit she works on. (I'll never forget the one where she was chased by an old man with a cane, who didn't speak a word of English, and who had previously barricaded the door to his room... or the one about the woman who wandered off so often that they pinned a note to the back of her hospital gown that read "if found, return to unit so and so"... or the one about mashing the sedatives into the filling of the patient's sandwich to get her to sleep...)
Shopping together. Not many can survive a shopping trip with her. She hates shopping, but seems to do it on a regular basis.
Packing for a road trip in a laundry basket, and packing to move houses (again) in exactly the same fashion.
Driving across the city on a whim to hit a particular store or restaurant.
Laughing in the greeting card aisle while on a quest to find the "perfect" sentiments for the people we love.
Teasing and laughing while shopping for lingerie showers for friends.
The everyday stuff of life.
The stuff that isn't intense. Not talking about the dreams or all the harder things, unless I really need to.
I hadn't realized how much sanity those little things brought to my life.
She's on the other side of the globe, working in a tiny hospital, trying to learn an impossibly difficult language, desperately missing the guy she'll marry next summer when she returns from Asia.
I miss her tonight. And I miss all the fun and sanity she brings to my life.
Praying for her, for the things she's asked, and for Jesus to meet with her in the midst of the things she's doing, and the things she's struggling with.
She's on my heart tonight, this best friend of mine. And I miss her.
Not the American Dream
I'm reading a book entitled "Between the Dreaming and the Coming True" by a man named Robert Benson. I highly recommend it. He speaks of God as the great Dreamer, and life as the space lived between the initial dreaming, and the full realization of that dream.
In it, in a chapter on work and vocation and cathedral building, he wrote the following, which caught me this morning as I settled in at a desk for another day at a job I don't hate, but certainly don't love.
It may well be that the business of America is business, but the business of the Dreamer has always been and always will be something else altogether. And the business of selling our lives by the hour, doing work that we do not want to do or being people that we do not want to be - in the name of piling up treasures that have more to do with what we want or think we ought to have than with what we need, treasures that have more to do with what shines rather than what sustains - is hardly what the Dreamer envisioned. (pg. 91)
In it, in a chapter on work and vocation and cathedral building, he wrote the following, which caught me this morning as I settled in at a desk for another day at a job I don't hate, but certainly don't love.
It may well be that the business of America is business, but the business of the Dreamer has always been and always will be something else altogether. And the business of selling our lives by the hour, doing work that we do not want to do or being people that we do not want to be - in the name of piling up treasures that have more to do with what we want or think we ought to have than with what we need, treasures that have more to do with what shines rather than what sustains - is hardly what the Dreamer envisioned. (pg. 91)
Tired
The dreams were thick, and disturbing again last night.
The self-conversation as I drove to work this morning, still distracted by the night of dreams went something like, "Snap out of it Lisa, and pay attention to where you're going." At one point I realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was, on a route that I travel twice a day, five days a week. I found myself frantically looking for signs, wondering if I'd actually managed to be so out of it that I'd driven past my exit. (I hadn't.)
Two days of work left for me this week.
I'm not going to think about the headache that's back for the forth day running.
Or about how badly I would rather be getting some sleep than sitting at my desk.
It's all in the doing of the thing. And right now, there's too much to do to be at home. There are deadlines coming, and I'm grateful for the little bit of time off I managed to secure to attend this next wedding.
Two days left.
The self-conversation as I drove to work this morning, still distracted by the night of dreams went something like, "Snap out of it Lisa, and pay attention to where you're going." At one point I realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was, on a route that I travel twice a day, five days a week. I found myself frantically looking for signs, wondering if I'd actually managed to be so out of it that I'd driven past my exit. (I hadn't.)
Two days of work left for me this week.
I'm not going to think about the headache that's back for the forth day running.
Or about how badly I would rather be getting some sleep than sitting at my desk.
It's all in the doing of the thing. And right now, there's too much to do to be at home. There are deadlines coming, and I'm grateful for the little bit of time off I managed to secure to attend this next wedding.
Two days left.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Tonight
Tonight...
- I'm missing my best friend, who is currently across the world in East Asia, and will be for the next 6 months
- I'm thinking about how life and conversation in our house has become consumed by the topic of weddings
- I'm grateful for freshly laundered, still warm from the dryer pj's to curl up in
- I'm thinking about what needs to be done and packed before my next flight leaves on Wednesday night
- I'm praying for friends scattered across the country and around the globe
- I'm thinking about breath
- I'm close to tears
- I'm thankful for a small, unexpected sum of money that arrived today
- I'm lighting candles
- I'm smelling the scent of rose oil
- I'm feeling oddly uncertain about many things
- I'm also feeling deeply reflective
- I'm hoping that passage that talks about the Spirit praying when we don't have words is true, for my heart just doesn't have words.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Sci-Fi Geeks - the Photos
This one was posed. L. was quite amused by this guy's antics, and asked him if he'd pose for a photo with her. This "lovely" costumed character was waiting just around a corner, sort of "sneaking" up on hapless concert-goers as they came around the corner to enter the building.
In this case, L. was so amused by the costumes that she pulled the "take a photo of me when you're really taking one of them" trick. So, notice L., but mostly, notice the costumed symphony goers in the background.
Sci-Fi Geeks
Can I just say that I always forget just exactly how into a theme some sci-fi geeks can get?
I attended the "Lord of the Rings Symphony" with my brother, roommate and a friend tonight.
There were people - audience members - in costume. To attend a symphony. And not just one or two in costume, but dozens.
We took pictures - the sneaky kind where you stand in front and off to the side of what you're actually trying to photograph. My roommate even asked one particularly elaborately costumed person to pose with her. He obliged, in between skulking around corners to startle people arrived to attend the symphony.
I'll upload the pictures when I get a chance. But for the moment, I'm finding infinite amusement in remembering the rather goofy looking people scattered amidst those dressed up to attend the symphony.
I attended the "Lord of the Rings Symphony" with my brother, roommate and a friend tonight.
There were people - audience members - in costume. To attend a symphony. And not just one or two in costume, but dozens.
We took pictures - the sneaky kind where you stand in front and off to the side of what you're actually trying to photograph. My roommate even asked one particularly elaborately costumed person to pose with her. He obliged, in between skulking around corners to startle people arrived to attend the symphony.
I'll upload the pictures when I get a chance. But for the moment, I'm finding infinite amusement in remembering the rather goofy looking people scattered amidst those dressed up to attend the symphony.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Articles Catching My Attention
Emily Stauffer's Faith Remembered
And CBC presents "On This Day"... I don't think I'll ever forget sitting in a social studies classroom, with the memorial for Pierre Elliot Trudeau playing quietly as we studied. I won't forget the moment when his son, Justin Trudeau stepped to the microphone to deliver a eulogy to his father, and I'll forget the moment etched in my memory, as he ended his eulogy with a simple and poignant "je'taime papa."
And CBC presents "On This Day"... I don't think I'll ever forget sitting in a social studies classroom, with the memorial for Pierre Elliot Trudeau playing quietly as we studied. I won't forget the moment when his son, Justin Trudeau stepped to the microphone to deliver a eulogy to his father, and I'll forget the moment etched in my memory, as he ended his eulogy with a simple and poignant "je'taime papa."
This is the day (the prayers of my heart)
As I was opening the blinds in my bedroom this morning, I glanced out the window and saw the faintest beginnings of the sunrise, and slowly, like a mantra, these words began repeating themselves across my heart.
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and give thanks in it.
I am not, by nature an easily optimistic or joyful person. And yet, this morning, my heart is seeking to find joy, to speak with my Abba, in the midst of many things. I am being drawn unwittingly into deep places, and am so thankful for a dear friend who has often reminded me that a heart can pray with or without words.
As I drove to work this morning, and watched the sunrise, and then, the spattering of raindrops across my windshield, my heart was drawn deeper and began to pray.
Today (among other things) I am praying for:
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and give thanks in it.
I am not, by nature an easily optimistic or joyful person. And yet, this morning, my heart is seeking to find joy, to speak with my Abba, in the midst of many things. I am being drawn unwittingly into deep places, and am so thankful for a dear friend who has often reminded me that a heart can pray with or without words.
As I drove to work this morning, and watched the sunrise, and then, the spattering of raindrops across my windshield, my heart was drawn deeper and began to pray.
Today (among other things) I am praying for:
- a friend who recently visited our home from New Zealand, and is currently undiagnosed and not responding to treatment, in an induced coma in a New Zealand hospital.
- two precious little girls
- dear friends interconnected, and scattered across four provinces
- some people I love who are grieving
- the family and friends who will gather today in Edson to both mourn and celebrate the life of a young woman who was killed late last week
- other friends scattered across the globe - in Europe and Asia, and other parts abroad
- deep and difficult lessons being learned by a friend who finds herself quite isolated in a foreign part of the world, filling roles that are foreign and less than satisfying
- the healing and restoration of some I love deeply
- two friends recently engaged, and two more enjoying the first days of married life
- restoration of relationships that have borne much strain
- airplane flights scheduled
And so, as I turn my attention to the days' work, I will let my heart continue to pray. I am seeking to rest, to give thanks, to live in a space occupied by peace and joy.
This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and give thanks in it.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Weekend Coming
Tomorrow is Friday. 8 hours of work to go (and one of those is lunch!).
Then the weekend.
Here's a sampling of what's on my agenda for this weekend:
Then the weekend.
Here's a sampling of what's on my agenda for this weekend:
- tickets to the "Lord of the Rings" symphony with my baby brother, my roommate, and one of T's friends.
- a visit to AMA to pick up maps for an upcoming trip
- the bank, to pay a couple of bills and deposit a couple of cheques
- uploading pictures from last weekend
- updating my ipod, which is finally back from being repaired (8.5 weeks seems a bit excessive, no?)
- wedding dress shopping with my recently engaged roommate
- baking cookies
- some girly time painting my toe and finger nails
- I'm going to attempt to finish reading at least one book, and start another
- I'm going to make time to go to my favorite park for a walk and enjoy warm autumn weather (I may also go to the zoo... but it's hard to say)
- I'm going to write a nice long email to my best friend who is currently in Pakistan
- I'm going to take a long bath
- I may make time to sit in a coffee shop, or to visit my favorite tea shop, and do some reading and writing
Making Me Smile
An early October afternoon smile list:
- mango body scrub from The Body Shop
- girly nights once a week
- the sunrise as I drove to work this morning
- that today is "Name Your Car" Day - (have I mentioned how much I like George??)
- high heels
- mini croissants
- the psalms playing as I work
- that my camera broke with a month left on it's warranty
- plans for a quiet evening
- five reminder stones and a rosary resting on my desk
- passion tea
- bottled water
- knowing that I'm very good at my job (even if it's rarely noticed)
- a short walk in the sunshine at lunch
- a work day that's nearly over
- thoughts stemming from the book I'm currently reading
- knowing that I get to take a break from the fast for a few days and read a novel again in just over a week
- John 16:21-23
- Genesis 15:1
- poetry occasionally spilling from my pen again
- Grey's Anatomy tonight!
- chocolate chip cookies my roommate baked
- plans full of fun for the coming weekend
simple things, but today, I'm mostly resting in them, and letting them bring me joy.
The Most Human and the Most Divine - Henri Nouwen
another thought from Henri Nouwen...
The Most Human and Most Divine Gesture
The two disciples whom Jesus joined on the road to Emmaus recognised him in the breaking of the bread. What is a more common, ordinary gesture than breaking bread? It may be the most human of all human gestures: a gesture of hospitality, friendship, care, and the desire to be together. Taking a loaf of bread, blessing it, breaking it, and giving it to those seated around the table signifies unity, community, and peace. When Jesus does this he does the most ordinary as well as the most extraordinary. It is the most human as well as the most divine gesture.
The great mystery is that this daily and most human gesture is the way we recognise the presence of Christ among us. God becomes most present when we are most human.
The Most Human and Most Divine Gesture
The two disciples whom Jesus joined on the road to Emmaus recognised him in the breaking of the bread. What is a more common, ordinary gesture than breaking bread? It may be the most human of all human gestures: a gesture of hospitality, friendship, care, and the desire to be together. Taking a loaf of bread, blessing it, breaking it, and giving it to those seated around the table signifies unity, community, and peace. When Jesus does this he does the most ordinary as well as the most extraordinary. It is the most human as well as the most divine gesture.
The great mystery is that this daily and most human gesture is the way we recognise the presence of Christ among us. God becomes most present when we are most human.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Headlines
A few more headlines catching my attention...
Malta Bird Slaughter Condemned
Colonial Clue to the Rise of HIV
Malta Bird Slaughter Condemned
Colonial Clue to the Rise of HIV
The Sadness You Have Right Now...
It's a new month. A new season.
October is a month that for the last few years has been full of days to be marked and remembered. Moments to be recalled as I move towards the anniversary of my healing from depression.
As I sat on a plane, waiting for take-off early Monday morning, I pulled from my bag a pocket sized copy of Eugene Peterson's The Message New Testament and turned to John. Paging through, I began reading at chapter 16.
I am caught by this translation of the words of Jesus. Caught by the parts of my life and story that they are touching.
And so, I sit here, and sip tea. I eat oranges, and taste salt on my lips, and I pray and wait and ache for that moment when all memory of pain is wiped out. I pray for the expedient coming of joy, for restoration, and birth, and peace.
October is a month that for the last few years has been full of days to be marked and remembered. Moments to be recalled as I move towards the anniversary of my healing from depression.
As I sat on a plane, waiting for take-off early Monday morning, I pulled from my bag a pocket sized copy of Eugene Peterson's The Message New Testament and turned to John. Paging through, I began reading at chapter 16.
I am caught by this translation of the words of Jesus. Caught by the parts of my life and story that they are touching.
And so, I sit here, and sip tea. I eat oranges, and taste salt on my lips, and I pray and wait and ache for that moment when all memory of pain is wiped out. I pray for the expedient coming of joy, for restoration, and birth, and peace.
When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there's no getting around it. But when the baby is born, there is joy in the birth. This new life in the world wipes out memory of the pain. The sadness you have right now is similar to that pain, but the coming joy is also similar. When I see you again, you'll be full of joy, and it will be a joy no one can rob from you. You'll no longer be so full of questions. (John 16:21-23, The Message)
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