They think in their heart, ‘We shall not be moved; throughout all generations we shall not meet adversity’. Psalm 10:6
We really are not in control of everything in life. We would like to think we can put up a force field around our lives that makes it impossible for bad things to push their way in and thwart the regular, routine patterns and peace of life, but it is only arrogance that makes us think we have that kind of power. Yet, in our hearts we can still hear that tickling voice telling us that we are invincible, that we can beat the odds, that we can manipulate circumstances and not be brought low by the ugly vagaries that life can deal out.
Just when we think we are safe from misfortune something happens that reminds us how little control we really have. The world begins to crash in around us. Our breath shortens to a pant, our body shakes and trembles, our throat feels as dry as sand, and our mind races to make sense of what is happening. While we are surprised and stunned that our power is so limited that it could not prevent the adversity, if we quiet ourselves and move through the difficulty as faithfully as we move through the glory of life, we will find an even greater surprise. We will come to see that both the bad and the good have their place in creating and sustaining our human life. When we recognize this truth, we can drop our arrogance, and open like a flower to the immensity of life and find ourselves thrilled by the adventure.
O God, when understanding eludes me, and trouble overwhelms me, give me the grace to move forward with faith.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
We give thanks to you, O God, we give thanks; your name is near. People tell of your wondrous deeds. Psalm 75:1
We are often most thankful for that which we don’t expect, that which we don’t deserve, that which shocks us out of our complacency and robotic lives. It might be in the instant when we feel cool wet rain shuttling through the air, falling like salve on our thirsty skin. It might be waking in the deep darkness of a winter morning to find the ground blanketed with snow so soft it melts under the warmth of our breath. It might be sinking our toes into the ocean’s sand; so wet, thick, and heavy every step demands effort. It might be the diamonds in the sky that glimmer only in the blackest darkness. It might be the howl of a coyote on a night when the moon is swollen with the desire to light up the earth. Each day, indeed each moment, the works of God are interrupting our lives, and every time we are awake to the movement of God’s hand in creation, our hearts inflate with thanksgiving. It is not that we set out to pray a prayer of thanksgiving. It is that the very surprise catches our breath, and what escapes from our heart are words of thanks. The prayer may be little more than, “Wow!” or “Ah!” Or, there may be no words at all – we may only notice the quickened beat of our heart that calls out our gratitude with each thump.
We cannot really plan for such prayers of thanks for the wondrous words of God in creation. We can only attempt to keep our eyes and ears open, our heart enlarged, our soul awake. And even if we are unable to do that, God will still surprise us, and we will inevitably give thanks.
O God, let my soul be attentive to the mysteries of the universe that will fill me with humility and gratitude.
We are often most thankful for that which we don’t expect, that which we don’t deserve, that which shocks us out of our complacency and robotic lives. It might be in the instant when we feel cool wet rain shuttling through the air, falling like salve on our thirsty skin. It might be waking in the deep darkness of a winter morning to find the ground blanketed with snow so soft it melts under the warmth of our breath. It might be sinking our toes into the ocean’s sand; so wet, thick, and heavy every step demands effort. It might be the diamonds in the sky that glimmer only in the blackest darkness. It might be the howl of a coyote on a night when the moon is swollen with the desire to light up the earth. Each day, indeed each moment, the works of God are interrupting our lives, and every time we are awake to the movement of God’s hand in creation, our hearts inflate with thanksgiving. It is not that we set out to pray a prayer of thanksgiving. It is that the very surprise catches our breath, and what escapes from our heart are words of thanks. The prayer may be little more than, “Wow!” or “Ah!” Or, there may be no words at all – we may only notice the quickened beat of our heart that calls out our gratitude with each thump.
We cannot really plan for such prayers of thanks for the wondrous words of God in creation. We can only attempt to keep our eyes and ears open, our heart enlarged, our soul awake. And even if we are unable to do that, God will still surprise us, and we will inevitably give thanks.
O God, let my soul be attentive to the mysteries of the universe that will fill me with humility and gratitude.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
E-residency- Week 2
It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart.
Philippians 1:7a
When we carry others in our hearts, we actually feel differently about them, respond differently to them, hope for different things from them. Carrying others in our hearts, however, can be a daunting task. It is not terribly difficult to feel tenderness toward others, or enjoy their company, or desire their best. In fact, we can readily do these things, hardly without thinking about them. It is quite another thing entirely to carry others in our heart.
The word ‘carry’ actually comes from the word ‘chariot’ – which is a small car. To carry someone in your heart is to be in the ‘chariot’ with them, to ride the road of life with them, to be confined in a small space with them, to view the edges and expanses of life with them, to share the dangers of travel with them, to both speak and be silent with them. To be in a chariot with others cures us of our self-absorption because we are consistently reminded that we are not alone in the space. The boundaries are much more porous between them and us. It becomes much more difficult to maintain our own autonomous ideas, plans, and prejudices because our justifications for such ideas, plans and prejudices are open to discussion and even confrontation. While it is a risk to carry others in our hearts, because we are disallowed from being so self-absorbed, curiously it is when we are in the chariot with others that we have the chance to find our true self.
O God, give me the courage to climb into the chariot with others for the ride of my life.
Philippians 1:7a
When we carry others in our hearts, we actually feel differently about them, respond differently to them, hope for different things from them. Carrying others in our hearts, however, can be a daunting task. It is not terribly difficult to feel tenderness toward others, or enjoy their company, or desire their best. In fact, we can readily do these things, hardly without thinking about them. It is quite another thing entirely to carry others in our heart.
The word ‘carry’ actually comes from the word ‘chariot’ – which is a small car. To carry someone in your heart is to be in the ‘chariot’ with them, to ride the road of life with them, to be confined in a small space with them, to view the edges and expanses of life with them, to share the dangers of travel with them, to both speak and be silent with them. To be in a chariot with others cures us of our self-absorption because we are consistently reminded that we are not alone in the space. The boundaries are much more porous between them and us. It becomes much more difficult to maintain our own autonomous ideas, plans, and prejudices because our justifications for such ideas, plans and prejudices are open to discussion and even confrontation. While it is a risk to carry others in our hearts, because we are disallowed from being so self-absorbed, curiously it is when we are in the chariot with others that we have the chance to find our true self.
O God, give me the courage to climb into the chariot with others for the ride of my life.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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We encourage your comments. If you are posting a comments you must be a registered user of any of the following: Google(gmail.com), Livejournal, Wordpress, TypePA, AIM, OpenID. If you are not currently it is easy and free to to so. Visit any of their sites and register an account.
When ready to post a comment, click on "comment" at end of a posted blog. A dialogue box will appear. Please identify yourself and write your comment in the box. You will be prompted by clicking on the drop down menu at bottom of dialogue box to choose which platform(gmail, Livejournal, etc.) you are registered with. It will prompt you to sign in, etc. Click Post.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror. Psalm 6:2
Sometimes we can hardly speak or lift our heads, for the trouble and sorrow that overwhelm our lives. We are in a wasteland – an empty, vast plain where nothing grows, where nothing is useful, where nothing flourishes. We seem to have been abandoned and shoved, against our will, into an exile where the ground beneath us, the sky above us, and the crashing wind that blows through us are the only things that hear our voices. We stand in that start wilderness in fear – fear that we will always be left alone. Fear that the very emptiness around us will swallow us up and no will ever know or ever care. Our eyes feel wet with salty tears, our energy is depleted, meaningful life seems to be slipping from us, and even the organs and bones within our body shake.
Oh, how we would avoid this wasteland – this wilderness. Yet, it is there, in that place of utter despair, that we are most able to recognize and accept the touch of the Holy One. Our prayer becomes so pure and simple that even demons flee in fear. Without the slightest doubt, we freely fall, like a drape of heavy cloth, into the hands of the Holy One who cradles us until the time of trouble and sorrow are past.
O God, let my heart stand so still and sure in your presence that no wasteland can ever overcome me.
From, Daily Vitamins for the Soul, Volume 6
By Renee Miller
Sometimes we can hardly speak or lift our heads, for the trouble and sorrow that overwhelm our lives. We are in a wasteland – an empty, vast plain where nothing grows, where nothing is useful, where nothing flourishes. We seem to have been abandoned and shoved, against our will, into an exile where the ground beneath us, the sky above us, and the crashing wind that blows through us are the only things that hear our voices. We stand in that start wilderness in fear – fear that we will always be left alone. Fear that the very emptiness around us will swallow us up and no will ever know or ever care. Our eyes feel wet with salty tears, our energy is depleted, meaningful life seems to be slipping from us, and even the organs and bones within our body shake.
Oh, how we would avoid this wasteland – this wilderness. Yet, it is there, in that place of utter despair, that we are most able to recognize and accept the touch of the Holy One. Our prayer becomes so pure and simple that even demons flee in fear. Without the slightest doubt, we freely fall, like a drape of heavy cloth, into the hands of the Holy One who cradles us until the time of trouble and sorrow are past.
O God, let my heart stand so still and sure in your presence that no wasteland can ever overcome me.
From, Daily Vitamins for the Soul, Volume 6
By Renee Miller
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