In the interests of clearing out my "to be followed up" email folder, here are two more reflections from Henri Nouwen that I had flagged to share with all of you.
Our Lives, Sowing Times
Our short lives on earth are sowing time. If there were no resurrection of the dead, everything we live on earth would come to nothing. How can we believe in a God who loves us unconditionally if all the joys and pains of our lives are in vain, vanishing in the earth with our mortal flesh and bones? Because God loves us unconditionally, from eternity to eternity, God cannot allow our bodies - the same as that in which Jesus, his Son and our savior, appeared to us - to be lost in final destruction.
No, life on earth is the time when the seeds of the risen body are planted. Paul says: "What is sown is perishable, but what is raised is imperishable; what is sown is contemptible but what is raised is glorious; what is sown is weak, but what is raised is powerful; what is sown is a natural body, and what is raised is a spiritual body" (1 Corinthians 15:42-44). This wonderful knowledge that nothing we live in our bodies is lived in vain holds a call for us to live every moment as a seed of eternity.
The wonderful knowledge, that nothing we live in our body is lived in vain, holds a call for us to live every moment as a seed of eternity.
The Dilemma of Life
Do we desire to be with Christ in the resurrection? It seems that most of us are not waiting for this new life but instead are doing everything possible to prolong our mortal lives. Still, as we grow more deeply into the spiritual life - the life in communion with our risen Lord - we gradually get in touch with our desire to move through the gate of death into the eternal life with Christ. This is no death wish but a desire for the fulfillment of all desires. Paul strongly experienced that desire. He writes: "Life to me, of course, is Christ, but then death would be a positive gain. ... I am caught in this dilemma: I want to be gone and to be with Christ, and this is by far the stronger desire - and yet for your sake to stay alive in this body is a more urgent need" (Philippians 1:21-24). This is a dilemma that few of us have, but it lays bare the core of the spiritual struggle.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Curled Up...
I wish you could see my house through my eyes tonight.
The tracklights that light our living room are dimmed, and there are candles lit on my coffee table - 6 tea lights and two pillars.
The tracklights are casting just the right glow on the photos of Paris hanging on the main wall of our living room.
My favorite throw blanket is strewn across the couch, where I can easily curl up in it.
On my tv, the movie "The Holiday" is playing. A feel-good, love story, Christmassy movie.
My kitchen smells great, because my roommate made brownies this afternoon, and I am cooking a favorite dinner - potatoes and sausages. The sausages are "turkey mango" homemade by a local butcher and purchased at the farmer's market last weekend, and they taste fantastic.
There are some books within arms reach of the spot on the couch where I am curled up (while not in the kitchen cooking).
I can hear the dryer tumbling in the background. I'll have warm, clean smelling pj's to crawl into later tonight.
My Bible is nearby, because I want to spend some time with it and a journal later, talking with Jesus about the upcoming week.
I'm planning for a long, hot bath later.
My Christmas tree is lit.
I wish you could see it all through my eyes, because I see home, and peace, and rest, and joy and deep beauty in all of these simple things.
The tracklights that light our living room are dimmed, and there are candles lit on my coffee table - 6 tea lights and two pillars.
The tracklights are casting just the right glow on the photos of Paris hanging on the main wall of our living room.
My favorite throw blanket is strewn across the couch, where I can easily curl up in it.
On my tv, the movie "The Holiday" is playing. A feel-good, love story, Christmassy movie.
My kitchen smells great, because my roommate made brownies this afternoon, and I am cooking a favorite dinner - potatoes and sausages. The sausages are "turkey mango" homemade by a local butcher and purchased at the farmer's market last weekend, and they taste fantastic.
There are some books within arms reach of the spot on the couch where I am curled up (while not in the kitchen cooking).
I can hear the dryer tumbling in the background. I'll have warm, clean smelling pj's to crawl into later tonight.
My Bible is nearby, because I want to spend some time with it and a journal later, talking with Jesus about the upcoming week.
I'm planning for a long, hot bath later.
My Christmas tree is lit.
I wish you could see it all through my eyes, because I see home, and peace, and rest, and joy and deep beauty in all of these simple things.
Africa Wounded
I read a beautiful blog post, by a woman who seems to have spent much of her adult life as a missionary in Africa today. I've stolen her title, and I'll telling you that you need to go here and read her post.
Survived!
This is me, looking oddly puzzled about my topic for some reason, talking in church this morning. I gave my camera to one of my youth kids, and asked him to take a bunch of photos. I wanted proof that I actually got up there and did this!
Gathering my nerve
I'm speaking for a few minutes at church this morning.
Sharing a bit about my upcoming trip to Malta.
Trying to figure out how to share the things on my heart with these people, many of whom have known me since I was an infant.
Figuring out how to be the person I am, and speak from that place, instead of being the person they expect me to be, and speaking from that place.
I'm frightened, I'll admit it. But I'm going anyway.
I didn't sleep much last night, and what sleep I got was tense. I can barely move my neck from that tenseness this morning. I nearly passed out in the shower from light-headedness. But I'm going to do this. (And I think I'm going to be all right.)
I have a pretty good idea of what I want to say, just hoping it comes out of my mouth in a way that the understanding in my head is clearly communicated.
I'm gathering my nerve.
Sharing a bit about my upcoming trip to Malta.
Trying to figure out how to share the things on my heart with these people, many of whom have known me since I was an infant.
Figuring out how to be the person I am, and speak from that place, instead of being the person they expect me to be, and speaking from that place.
I'm frightened, I'll admit it. But I'm going anyway.
I didn't sleep much last night, and what sleep I got was tense. I can barely move my neck from that tenseness this morning. I nearly passed out in the shower from light-headedness. But I'm going to do this. (And I think I'm going to be all right.)
I have a pretty good idea of what I want to say, just hoping it comes out of my mouth in a way that the understanding in my head is clearly communicated.
I'm gathering my nerve.
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