speech is a gift ...a treasured gift .... one only has to meet someone who cannot hear and thus cannot speak well to understand the enormity of the gift of speech ..
and yet, we are so careless with this gift ...
we hurt the heart, mind and soul of another with careless hard words ...
we change lives by telling lies ...
we refuse to speak and torture another with hard silence .....
or
we can speak words of kindness and love ...
we can speak truth ... even a truth that might be difficult to hear can be heard well if the words are spoken well ....
we can speak very few words of softness and gentleness no matter the situation ...
and yes,
sometimes it is better to say nothing, not say one single word,
when the silence is not to punish or damage
but simply to create space for Jesus ....
I know I have not always used this gift of speech well
and I am saddened about sullying this amazing gift ...
Jesus, be Lord of my tongue........
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Monday, September 3, 2018
in between
We have to be candles,
burning between hope and despair,
faith and doubt,
faith and doubt,
life and death,
all the opposites.
all the opposites.
to be a light means to burn
to use myself up
a candle uses itself completely up
and slowly extinguishes
no great fanfare
just a silent ending of the light
and so I burn
hopefully brightly
during this inbetween time
this not knowing whether Jeff will live
or die
and I cry for mercy .....
and yet if he dies
does that mean God is not merciful?
not good?
in this desert
my mouth is full of the sands of fear
making it hard to sing
God is so good
God is so good
God is so good to me
and He says
My ways are not your ways
My thoughts not your thoughts
God Who never changes
IS
Friday, August 31, 2018
oil or lack of
part of my reading this morning was from another familiar story
Matthew 25. .... the ten "virgins", their lamps, the invitation to the wedding, and the oil, or lack of ..
I learned this morning that their lamps were actually poles with an oil soaked rag on top ...
these "lamps" used up the oil quickly and thus one needed a good supply ...
in the dark, these lamps when lit allowed the person to see where they were going, but
also reflected the person's presence to other people ...
the application today, is what I am reflecting? if anything?
in the darkness of this world,do I reflect light?
are my private times with the Lord plantiful enough that my lamp will always be well lit ....
that I will be light so others can find their way in the darkness of these times ....
that I will be ready ?
so my take away is
what do I reflect
what do I give off
what do others see
do I have enough oil ........
I never want to find the door shut and hear those soul shaking words "I do not know you"
Matthew 25. .... the ten "virgins", their lamps, the invitation to the wedding, and the oil, or lack of ..
I learned this morning that their lamps were actually poles with an oil soaked rag on top ...
these "lamps" used up the oil quickly and thus one needed a good supply ...
in the dark, these lamps when lit allowed the person to see where they were going, but
also reflected the person's presence to other people ...
the application today, is what I am reflecting? if anything?
in the darkness of this world,do I reflect light?
are my private times with the Lord plantiful enough that my lamp will always be well lit ....
that I will be light so others can find their way in the darkness of these times ....
that I will be ready ?
so my take away is
what do I reflect
what do I give off
what do others see
do I have enough oil ........
I never want to find the door shut and hear those soul shaking words "I do not know you"
Monday, August 27, 2018
my neighbour, myself
recently, during a conversation, I felt deeply betrayed and dismissed ... I tried to address how I
was feeling but again was dismissed and so I left it ... feeling “what’s the use” ... “this is the way
it always has been and always will be” .... and so I parked my feelings, my pain, my hurt and
shut the door on them ....I tossed myself into the ditch at the edge of the road.....
the very next day I was reading “Loving God, Loving Myself” and suddenly started pondering the scriptural story we refer to as “the good Samaritan” ..... the story that asks the quesion “who is my neighbour?”
there was a man, in a ditch, by the roadside, obviously beaten up, hurting ....
he was visible to all who passed by ... one who saw and did not stop was a priest ... he had places to go, things to do, people to help and did not have time to stop and stoop down and perhaps get a tad dirty ... another who saw and kept going was a Levite .... a church official, who decided not to take a chance in soiling his official robes, nor disrupting his important schedule ....
there was one who stopped ... a man from Samaria, one who was looked down upon by priests and Levites as being of lesser importance .... this one saw, and stopped and brought the beaten one to a place of safety and quiet where he could heal ... he provided the means of healing ...
and I saw myself in this story ... in all the characters of this story ...
yesterday I was beaten up, hurt and tossed aside at the edge of the road ....
I was also the priest .... too busy with life and others to care for to pay attention to the wounded one ....
I too was the Levite .... dressed respectfully, living well, serving .....
I needed to find the “good Samaritan” within myself ... the one who does not mind a mess, the one who interrupts the agenda, the one who is fully present and so stops to hear and listen and bring to a place of healing ...
and so, who is my neighbour ... ? the broken, beaten up one? or the one who will stop ?
and I think it is not only me, but perhaps all of us live with a “neighbour” walking alongside us ... part of ourselves .....wounded parts and helper parts ..
we simply need to be willing to stop when we see .....we need to love ourselves ... I need to love myself enough to care for myself when beaten up, I need to take the time to heal myself out of the ditch ....
the very next day I was reading “Loving God, Loving Myself” and suddenly started pondering the scriptural story we refer to as “the good Samaritan” ..... the story that asks the quesion “who is my neighbour?”
there was a man, in a ditch, by the roadside, obviously beaten up, hurting ....
he was visible to all who passed by ... one who saw and did not stop was a priest ... he had places to go, things to do, people to help and did not have time to stop and stoop down and perhaps get a tad dirty ... another who saw and kept going was a Levite .... a church official, who decided not to take a chance in soiling his official robes, nor disrupting his important schedule ....
there was one who stopped ... a man from Samaria, one who was looked down upon by priests and Levites as being of lesser importance .... this one saw, and stopped and brought the beaten one to a place of safety and quiet where he could heal ... he provided the means of healing ...
and I saw myself in this story ... in all the characters of this story ...
yesterday I was beaten up, hurt and tossed aside at the edge of the road ....
I was also the priest .... too busy with life and others to care for to pay attention to the wounded one ....
I too was the Levite .... dressed respectfully, living well, serving .....
I needed to find the “good Samaritan” within myself ... the one who does not mind a mess, the one who interrupts the agenda, the one who is fully present and so stops to hear and listen and bring to a place of healing ...
and so, who is my neighbour ... ? the broken, beaten up one? or the one who will stop ?
and I think it is not only me, but perhaps all of us live with a “neighbour” walking alongside us ... part of ourselves .....wounded parts and helper parts ..
we simply need to be willing to stop when we see .....we need to love ourselves ... I need to love myself enough to care for myself when beaten up, I need to take the time to heal myself out of the ditch ....
today
today
may I be aware
of the silent God
Who stands by me
every moment
in every breath
in the words that come from my mouth
in the thoughts that roll around in my mind
in the seen
and the unseen
in the pain
and in the joy
may I be aware
of the silent God
who stands by me .....
may I be aware
of the silent God
Who stands by me
every moment
in every breath
in the words that come from my mouth
in the thoughts that roll around in my mind
in the seen
and the unseen
in the pain
and in the joy
may I be aware
of the silent God
who stands by me .....
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
there came a moment .....
Father, Son, Spirit ...
complete
perfect circle
perfect unity
all in one
and yet
there came a moment when these three in one
took a risk
and invited in a 14 year old girl
in all her littleness
to become pregnant with the plans of God
and there comes a moment
from time to time
when we
each one
in all our littleness
are invited in
to become pregnant with the plans of God
to birth the plans of Father, Son and Spirit
on this earth
in this soil
in the fullness of time
complete
perfect circle
perfect unity
all in one
and yet
there came a moment when these three in one
took a risk
and invited in a 14 year old girl
in all her littleness
to become pregnant with the plans of God
and there comes a moment
from time to time
when we
each one
in all our littleness
are invited in
to become pregnant with the plans of God
to birth the plans of Father, Son and Spirit
on this earth
in this soil
in the fullness of time
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
a state of abandonment
In the state of abandonment the only rule is the duty of the present moment. In this the soul is light as a feather, liquid as water, simple as a child, active as a ball in receiving and following all the inspirations of grace. Such souls have no more consistence and rigidity than molten metal. As this takes any form according to the mould into which it is poured, so those souls are pliant and easily receptive of any form that God chooses to give them. In a word, their disposition resembles the atmosphere, which is affected by every breeze; or water which flows into any shaped vessel excatly filling every crevice. They are before God like a perfectly woven fabric with a clear surface; and neither think nor seek to know what God will be pleased to trace thereon; because they have confidence in Him, they abandon themselves to Him and entirely absorbed by their duty they think not of themselves nor of what may be necessary for them nor of how to obtain it. The more assiduously do they apply themselves to their little work, so simple, so hidden, so secret and outwardly contemptible, the more does God embroider and embellish it with brilliat colours. On the surface of this simple canvas of love and obedience His hand traces the most beautiful design, the most delicate and intricate pattern, the most divine figures.
It is true that a canvas simply and blindly given up to the work of the pencil only feels its movement at each moment, Each blow of the hammer on the chisel can only produce one cruel mark at a time, and the stone struck be repeated blows cannot know, nor see the form produced by them. It only feels that it is being diminished, filed, cut, and altered by the chisel. And a stone that is destined to become a crucifix or a statue without knowing it, if it were asked “What is happening to you?” would reply if it could speak, “Do not ask me, I only know one thing and that is to remain immovable in the hands of my master, to love him and to endure all that he inflicts upon me. As for the end for which I am destined it is his business to understand how it is to be accomplished; I am as ignorant of what he is doing as of what I am destined to become; all I know is that his work is the best and the most perfect that could be and I receive each blow of the chisel as the most excellent thing that could happen to me, although truth to tell each blow in my opinion causes the idea of ruin, destruction, disfigurement. But that is not my affair, content with the present moment, I think of nothing but my duty and I endure the work of this clever master without knowing or occupying myself about it.”
It is true that a canvas simply and blindly given up to the work of the pencil only feels its movement at each moment, Each blow of the hammer on the chisel can only produce one cruel mark at a time, and the stone struck be repeated blows cannot know, nor see the form produced by them. It only feels that it is being diminished, filed, cut, and altered by the chisel. And a stone that is destined to become a crucifix or a statue without knowing it, if it were asked “What is happening to you?” would reply if it could speak, “Do not ask me, I only know one thing and that is to remain immovable in the hands of my master, to love him and to endure all that he inflicts upon me. As for the end for which I am destined it is his business to understand how it is to be accomplished; I am as ignorant of what he is doing as of what I am destined to become; all I know is that his work is the best and the most perfect that could be and I receive each blow of the chisel as the most excellent thing that could happen to me, although truth to tell each blow in my opinion causes the idea of ruin, destruction, disfigurement. But that is not my affair, content with the present moment, I think of nothing but my duty and I endure the work of this clever master without knowing or occupying myself about it.”
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