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"

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 .... 

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 .....

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

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.”

community and the banquet

Luke speaks about a banquet, and the invitation to the banquet
and how although originally accepting the invitation to attend, when the meal was ready, everyone found an excuse and did not show up …. the excuses were based upon people, position and possessions …….
and I am struck by the similarities between community and the banquet ..
it is the desire of the that Lord we live in community … he invites us to do so …
just as food and drink are served at a banquet, food and drink that feed the body,
there is food and drink that feed the soul to be found in community …
community living can be messy and it can be hard … it certainly necessitates replacing the I with we …
and yet, when there is a need within the community, too often no one shows up …
the invitation to live in community has been accepted …...but the excuses arise when it is time to come together, to sit at the same table, whether it be a table of suffering, or loss, or pain or ……
and the excuses interestingly are the same …
people, position and possessions ……

the art of listening

I have noted over the past few years how few people listen …..
another’s story is precious, part of the fabric of their lives,
and when they choose to share it, the whole or simply some moments,
care must be taken to listen, to be fully present while listening, 
eyes focussed on the story teller, not looking elsewhere, over their shoulder, around the room …
so important not to interject moments of our own story or cast doubt or judgement or attempt to wrap the teller in a cloak of shame ….. why has it become so hard to keep our hearts open and our mouths firmly closed while another speaks …. there is an art to listening that often is missing that we need to rediscover so as to honor one another’s story …...