This post will probably degenerate into a pity party.
Hmm.
Well, here goes, anyway.
I feel alone. I feel like I don't belong. I feel like I am not capable.
Even though I have friends, I still can't shake this haunting and oppressive feeling of loneliness.
Sometimes I'm afraid that God has abandoned me; He has given up on me.
But I know this isn't true.
And I'm learning to reject a lot of other things that aren't true.
Yes; my relationship with God needs fixing.
Is not my heart broken and contrite enough? How much more does it have to be broken until I am finally, at least in part, healed? Am I not desperate enough? Am I not weary enough?
Am I not trying hard enough? Am I not truly seeking You?
Yes, I have friends. Friends that care deeply. Yet I have no one I belong to, at some level, as a best friend. Shouldn't all of these friends be enough to get me through?
Yes, I am Your child. Yet I am a very useless and weak child.
When will my life make sense again? At all?
When will I find the courage to speak to my father again?
When will Pat get better?
When will I get over how much I miss London?
How do I deal with other, internal stirrings?
How do I make it through the day when I don't really even want to be here anymore, or, rather, know why I'm here? yet don't know where else I want to be? or what I want to be doing?
How do I complete these mounds of reading when my heart and mind are not in sync with each other?
How do I do anything? When I feel incapable of moving in any direction?
When will I know I am loved, and live as if I am?
When?
How?
For what purpose?
I'm bruised and broken, and my soul is very frail.
I do not sense Your presence or care in my tears.
Is this because I am not allowing You in? Or is it part of the refining process?
I don't understand!
Yet somehow, You are my hope. I know You are good.
I want to know You as good.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
The butterfly emerges...
from the cocoon, its wings,
wet with rebirth, slowly opening
and then this creature of fragile loveliness
flies across the blue vault of sky.
--Madeleine L'Engle
The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Romans 8:16
From Abba's Child, by Brennan Manning
The sorrow of God lies in our fear of Him, our fear of life, and our fear of ourselves.
God weeps over us when shame and self-hatred immobilize us.
It is uncomfortable and intolerable to confront our true selves.
The impostor tells us to stop being our real selves because nobody likes me as I am.
In Love's service, only wounded soldiers can serve.
We stand in the Truth that sets us free and live out of the Reality that makes us whole.
It is sin to, in our cowardly refusal, to, out of fear of rejection, to think, feel, act, respond, and live from my authentic self.
The deepest desire of our hearts if for union with God.
Prayer is death to every identity that does not come from God.
He is the Savior who saves us from ourselves. His Word is freedom.
I am the Son of Compassion. You belong to Me and no one will tear you from My hand.
We are often tempted to stuff our feelings, shut down our memories, withhold our opinions, and develop social graces.
Sanctity is essentially the nobility of the soul.
Our true self is unself-conscious, unpretentious, immersed in life, absorbed in the present moment, breathing in God as naturally as a fish swimming in water.
Thomas Merton:
"God is asking me, the unworthy, to forget my unworthiness and that of my brothers, and dare to advance in the love which has redeemed and renewed us all in God's likeness and to laugh, after all, at the preposterous ideas of worthiness. ''
Define yourself radically as one beloved of God.
My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being--"You are the Beloved"
But you have been so busy trying to prove to yourself yo uare loved that you have not heard me.
Our souls are suffused with glory.
...the God who grabs scalawags and ragamuffins by the scruff of the neck and raises them up to seat them with the princes and princesses of His people
how we view ourselves at any given moment may have very little to do with who we really are
Is my life a disappointment to You? Are You grieved by the shallowness of my soul?
Tenderness awakens within the security of knowing we are thoroughly and sincerely liked by someone.
Oh yes, my Abba is fond of me.
To open yourself to another person, to stop lying about your loneliness and your fears, to be honest about your affections, and to tell others how much they mean to you--this openness is the triumph of the child over the pharisee, and a sign of the dynamic presence of the Holy Spirit.
We have spread so many ashes over the historical Jesus that we scarcely feel the glow of His presence anymore.
The risen One is more intimate to me than I am to myself.
The heart of Jesus beats the same yesterday, today, and forever.
Sloth is our refusal to go on the inward journey--a paralysis that results from choosing to protect ourselves from passion.
The love of Jesus Christ alone establishes status and confers dignity.
Infatuation derives from the Latin in-fatuus--'to make foolish'
I sank down into the center of my soul, grew still, and listened to the Rabbi's heartbeat.
Intelligence without courage is bankrupt.
Anthony of Padua-
Of what value is learning that does not turn to love?
Our love is a need; His is a gift. Thomas Merton
He is not a refuge from reality but the Way into its depths.
The sorrow of God lies in our fear of Him, our fear of life, and our fear of ourselves.
God weeps over us when shame and self-hatred immobilize us.
It is uncomfortable and intolerable to confront our true selves.
The impostor tells us to stop being our real selves because nobody likes me as I am.
In Love's service, only wounded soldiers can serve.
We stand in the Truth that sets us free and live out of the Reality that makes us whole.
It is sin to, in our cowardly refusal, to, out of fear of rejection, to think, feel, act, respond, and live from my authentic self.
The deepest desire of our hearts if for union with God.
Prayer is death to every identity that does not come from God.
He is the Savior who saves us from ourselves. His Word is freedom.
I am the Son of Compassion. You belong to Me and no one will tear you from My hand.
We are often tempted to stuff our feelings, shut down our memories, withhold our opinions, and develop social graces.
Sanctity is essentially the nobility of the soul.
Our true self is unself-conscious, unpretentious, immersed in life, absorbed in the present moment, breathing in God as naturally as a fish swimming in water.
Thomas Merton:
"God is asking me, the unworthy, to forget my unworthiness and that of my brothers, and dare to advance in the love which has redeemed and renewed us all in God's likeness and to laugh, after all, at the preposterous ideas of worthiness. ''
Define yourself radically as one beloved of God.
My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being--"You are the Beloved"
But you have been so busy trying to prove to yourself yo uare loved that you have not heard me.
Our souls are suffused with glory.
...the God who grabs scalawags and ragamuffins by the scruff of the neck and raises them up to seat them with the princes and princesses of His people
how we view ourselves at any given moment may have very little to do with who we really are
Is my life a disappointment to You? Are You grieved by the shallowness of my soul?
Tenderness awakens within the security of knowing we are thoroughly and sincerely liked by someone.
Oh yes, my Abba is fond of me.
To open yourself to another person, to stop lying about your loneliness and your fears, to be honest about your affections, and to tell others how much they mean to you--this openness is the triumph of the child over the pharisee, and a sign of the dynamic presence of the Holy Spirit.
We have spread so many ashes over the historical Jesus that we scarcely feel the glow of His presence anymore.
The risen One is more intimate to me than I am to myself.
The heart of Jesus beats the same yesterday, today, and forever.
Sloth is our refusal to go on the inward journey--a paralysis that results from choosing to protect ourselves from passion.
The love of Jesus Christ alone establishes status and confers dignity.
Infatuation derives from the Latin in-fatuus--'to make foolish'
I sank down into the center of my soul, grew still, and listened to the Rabbi's heartbeat.
Intelligence without courage is bankrupt.
Anthony of Padua-
Of what value is learning that does not turn to love?
Our love is a need; His is a gift. Thomas Merton
He is not a refuge from reality but the Way into its depths.
He sends the snow like white wool; he scatters frost upon the ground like ashes.
Psalm 147:16
I reach out for You. I thirst for You as parched land thirsts for rain.
May Your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing.
Psalm 143:10b
Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.
Psalm 126:5
I long for the Lord more than sentries long for the dawn, yes, more than sentries long for the dawn.
Psalm 130:6
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Snow as a gift
The sadness of not being perfect, the discovery that you really are sinful, is a feeling much too human, even borders on idolatry. Focus your vision outside yourself on the beauty, graciousness, and compassion of Jesus Christ. ... A heart like that is stripped and filled stripped of self and filled with the fullness of God.
But holiness is not a personal achievement. It's an emptiness you discover in yourself. Instead of resenting it, you accept it and it becomes the free space where the Lord can create anew.
You are no longer aware of yourself, like the sparrow aloft and free in the azure sky.
~Francis of Assisi
----------------
Be prepared for a good dose of nostalgia/sentimentality:
The snow enchants me.
...walking absentmindedly across the quad, kicking the snow as if were an empty coke can or as if I were dragging my toes through the freshly damp sand
...unable to will myself to move inside, into the warmth, away from the frostbite grabbing hold of my finger, wrapped around an empty teacup...snowflakes coating the inside, infusing the Earl Grey leaves with a touch of white water
...walking over puddles of ice, stomping on them carelessly, without reverence
...staring straight up at the snowflakes hitting my glasses lenses like the rain drops feel on the day when the old man was snoring
In pure wonder. Suddenly, at least for a moment, my sorrow was lifted; released into the torrential down fall of unexpressed, unfulfilled deep-seated dreams and desires.
It was a gift; a grace. Given unexpectedly, un-asked for--like all gifts should be, if they possibly can.
...snow freezing upon each hair follicle
...the lamplight and purple Houghton college logos dusted, as if an afterthought...by glittering, suspended-in-gravity flakes
...as God's angels faithfully pelt snow down from the stores of the heavens, perhaps sprinkling it upon the earth as we venture to drench Christmas-tree shaped cookies with red and green
As I think on these things,
I feel courage.
I feel Love.
But holiness is not a personal achievement. It's an emptiness you discover in yourself. Instead of resenting it, you accept it and it becomes the free space where the Lord can create anew.
You are no longer aware of yourself, like the sparrow aloft and free in the azure sky.
~Francis of Assisi
----------------
Be prepared for a good dose of nostalgia/sentimentality:
The snow enchants me.
...walking absentmindedly across the quad, kicking the snow as if were an empty coke can or as if I were dragging my toes through the freshly damp sand
...unable to will myself to move inside, into the warmth, away from the frostbite grabbing hold of my finger, wrapped around an empty teacup...snowflakes coating the inside, infusing the Earl Grey leaves with a touch of white water
...walking over puddles of ice, stomping on them carelessly, without reverence
...staring straight up at the snowflakes hitting my glasses lenses like the rain drops feel on the day when the old man was snoring
In pure wonder. Suddenly, at least for a moment, my sorrow was lifted; released into the torrential down fall of unexpressed, unfulfilled deep-seated dreams and desires.
It was a gift; a grace. Given unexpectedly, un-asked for--like all gifts should be, if they possibly can.
...snow freezing upon each hair follicle
...the lamplight and purple Houghton college logos dusted, as if an afterthought...by glittering, suspended-in-gravity flakes
...as God's angels faithfully pelt snow down from the stores of the heavens, perhaps sprinkling it upon the earth as we venture to drench Christmas-tree shaped cookies with red and green
As I think on these things,
I feel courage.
I feel Love.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die
Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
lies silent in the grave.
William Cowper
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
lies silent in the grave.
William Cowper
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