Update:
A dear friend let me know that the image I've included with this post is not of the baptism of Jesus as identified below, but is actually of the resurrection. I'd wondered a bit when I posted it, as I'd seen a similar icon that I knew was not the baptism, but decided to go with the information provided with the image. In any case, I am still thinking a lot about baptism, and the image is deeply striking to me as well, for a wide variety of reasons.
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Image via Wikipedia
I have just passed one of the more delightful half-hours or so that I've spent in a while. I spent it sprawled on my bed, reading more of a book by Anne Lamott. I always seem to return to Lamott just in the moments when I most need to be reminded that people who don't have it all together can follow Jesus too. Earthy, fun loving people. Slightly neurotic people with all sorts of varying thoughts and opinions, joined by a love of Jesus and a belief that he deeply loves us.I'm feeling fairly peaceful. A nice change given some of the many things that continue to swirl around me.
It's dusk outside the living room window near where I'm sitting now, and a streetlight is glowing orange.
And even at rest, even in the moments of peace, my thoughts are scattered.
I'm pondering bits and pieces of Lamott's writing - savoring the simple beauty she brings to ordinary life.
I'm thinking a lot about church. And about the fact that I need to at the very least journal, and possibly blog some of those thoughts in the coming days.
I'm letting my heart wind it's way around some thoughts from two separate sermons by Rob Bell that I've listened to recently. Thoughts that in their own way seem to be answering questions I'd only barely voiced.
I'm have an add on to blogger that suggests images based on the words in my posts. The image above came up for some reason tonight. An icon depicting the baptism of Jesus. I've thought a lot about baptism this last year, and encountered some of those thoughts again in passing yesterday.
And I'm thinking about mental illness, and a comment a friend made. About stigma and how it seems to go hand in hand with mental illness. I'm thinking about the fact that I've spoken strongly against this stigma, but also that I fall prey to it. That there is a pattern in myself of being unwilling to acknowledge the areas where I am unwell. A pattern of being unwilling in some ways to admit the struggles, even to myself. I would imagine that these thoughts, too, are ones that will be revisited.
And I'm still letting the words from the weekend, the thoughts about the state of my heart, about chopping versus pointing with the sword of truth wend their way through my life. I am noticing and seeking to be consciously aware of the places where my heart response is anger or hatred. Where I want to chop. I am finding them in the oddest of places and seeking to release even just those little bits of resentment in search of deeper freedom.
And now, now I'm going back to my book, and then to bed. It's a bit cooler tonight, and that will likely help with the sleeping situation.