| Subtle Sacrament |
[Jan. 23rd, 2010|11:32 am] |
Brief fencing in of terms: a sacrament is a physical act that enacts a greater spiritual truth, gift, or blessing. By enacts, I mean it does more than symbolize. The physical action itself is indicative of the spiritual action occurring. Baptism involves water because it is a time of cleansing. Some people do full-immersion for the beautiful representation of dying to self and rising again in Christ. So on and so forth with the other Six (or less if you happen to be a protesting Protestant).
The physical presence of other Christians is a blessing we, I, often overlook. And when I, we, do appreciate it we do so in thankfulness alone. But there is something more there. As Bonhoeffer writes, we "receive each other's benedictions as the benediction of the Lord Jesus Christ." The face of the Christian next to you in church, is truly a "physical sign of the gracious presence of the triune God." We allow the phrase "Body of Christ" to roll off our tongues with little thought. We are the very Body of Christ. How is this Body different than the Body given in conjunction with the Blood? The physical presence of other believers enacts the presence of our Creator. That is the miracle of every Sunday morning. That is the miracle of every day, every moment we are blessed by the Grace of Christ to spend in the presence, physically, of our brethren.
Love life together. A twofold command. First love life, that is this life itself, in community. Secondly, love the fact that you may spend life together. Love community. Love each other. Love this Body.
May the Holy Spirit minister to anything I have written in error, and bless your days now and to come. |
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| Unworthy lips to convey such Words |
[Sep. 14th, 2009|10:28 pm] |
I read the Gospel reading tonight in our Nightly Prayer. I don't want to qualify this as normal, but it is, at worst, habitual. Tonight I read this passage (Matthew 4:1-11):
"Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And after He had fasted forty days and forty nights, He then became hungry. And the tempter came and said to HIm, 'If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread.' But He answered and said, 'It is written, "Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God."'"
And here I stopped. It was only for a moment, the time it takes to pause, swallow, and continue. But that moment was so pregnant with joy that I almost cried while reading the remaining 7 verses. I don't write this to tote how emotional Scripture made me, forgive me if it seems that way. I'm writing this because I can't contain my awe. Because for that time, the words that proceeded "out of the mouth of God" was every word proceeding from my mouth. And those verses I was reading are more crucial than food for the nourishment of man. For that time, I was the mouthpiece of God. An appointed prophet. For prophets never create their speech; it is a repetition of the words of God. And that's what I was doing. That's what each of us does when we read these Holy, old Words aloud.
So do we realize the power of what we have? That iPhone app you have, do you realize how powerful that is? The little paper with that little verse on your mirror, do you realize that the might of our Creator resides on that paper? Your doormat with the little pledge of your house belonging to the Lord, you realize where those words come from , right? From the very mouth of the living God. The living God. The God who is a consuming fire. The God whose very name is an unknowable, unspeakable holiness. And when you read those words, make those sounds with your mouth, you realize what you are doing, right? Or rather, what's being done to you? You are transformed. Your lips, those lips which spew venom and hate, vomit forth gossip, and speak basely for entertainment, those lips now speak the very Word of God. They are made holy for a moment. I'm overwhelmed that such Words are allowed to pass through my lips. Grace, grace, grace abounds beyond my comprehension. Alleluia, amen. |
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| Keep a Light Burning |
[Jan. 19th, 2009|04:53 pm] |
Is there anyone out there who does not have this uncanny feeling of terror towards dreams? It's not some sort of irrational phobia; it's a fearful fascination buried deep, deep within us. They excite us, but their pseudo-reality haunts us. Their pleasantry is surreal terror, not unbearable - willingly and gladly born - but with the dreadful excitement that comes when you stand a step closer than you like to the edge. The excitement in knowing the terrible truth that if you wanted to, you could fly off.
Dreams scare me because I don't control them. The "good dreams" the "bad dreams"; I don't have power over them. But we want to, we feel justified that we should. They are in us, they are part of us, they fill us, and we fill them. But our dreams seem to spin more towards chaos than our realities. Dreams scare me because they may come true. That this fantastic vision might be real. That the desires I see I will receive. That the fears I feel I will fulfill. We don't posess them. They are wildfires. Glorious wildfires that, with Grace, will make us all want to rise a little higher and be a little more.
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| My younger audience should stop reading now |
[Dec. 2nd, 2008|06:35 pm] |
Actually, scratch that. Keep reading, kids.
I've had an extremely blessed childhood. The hardships of my life, in light of eternity and in the struggles of the world, are nothing. I realize this. So what i'm about to do is not whining or complaining, i think. And if i am, don't worry, i'll disagree with myself a little further down.
I find this disturbing: http://www.santamail.org/
It has all the elements that should bother us.
Not only is it abhorrently commercialized (lights dancing around $9.95? countdown clock? really?) but it supports and propagates a lie. Do we think our children incapable of learning any virtuous behavior without a mystical reward system? I have spent years reversing my conceived atmosphere of this coming time. What have i prepared for? What coming have i longed each year to see? Santa's. When i (somewhat angrily, i might add) expressed my distress and disappointment to my parents (why couldn't they be forward? why couldn't i feel gratitude towards them and not some piece of fiction? why did my love go off wasted, not received?) they were a bit indignant. Their excuse was that they tried to create a sense of magic for my childhood. You want magic? You want miraculous? You want special? Look. Seek. You can find it, but it isn't going to arrive post-makred "North Pole" embossed on heirloom-quality acid-free linen paper.
But maybe i'm wrong. Maybe it takes the destruction of a fiction to throw a clearer light on the reality. In fact, i needed to overthrow it. Because in the effort made to take a unique journey, from wherever i am now to wherever that Star comes to rest, i'll find something. And when i arrive, i'll find something better. And now that i've prepared for the past eighteen years, i will (by Grace) make that pilgrimage every year. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 23rd, 2008|07:08 pm] |
There's something about the transitional seasons that always moves me. I always have a feeling of great potential, of great opportunities where people are more than themselves, and great risks can be taken without the proportional amount of fear. I'm not sure why. I think it may be that Nature is so busy transforming itself and preparing itself that we're given a little chance to sneak up on it and gain something. Spring and Fall are unique from each other, but there's still that smoldering inside that makes you feel like you can do more than you are.
But every time the season ends, i feel like i've wasted it. Last Spring being the only exception i can think of though. I don't want to waste it now, maybe more than ever. I'm surrounded by clay. There's so much that can be shaped and formed from what's around me. So much may be gained from this Fall. |
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| Lililililililili! |
[Aug. 17th, 2008|01:21 am] |
They're more right than they'll ever know... |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 13th, 2008|01:56 am] |
It's ridiculous (not quite to the point of ridicule, though) how overwhelming five senses can be. i was sitting by a lake today and was asked by my companion "Are you listening?" - in reference to the forest around us. "No," i replied, "i forgot to."
i wonder - if we were deprived of the complete overflow that nearly drives us (or at least me) mad, wouldn't we go mad from our own thoughts? it's as if the very nature of our senses is to prevent us from being utterly self centered. i think that's all i want to say on that today.
It's moments like these that make me think i could walk on water - it wouldn't be such a miracle because everything is miraculous now. |
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| A house where a tree was, a man where a cloud will be |
[Mar. 1st, 2008|06:51 pm] |
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A man saw a lizard climbing on a second story window. "Be careful little lizard," said the man, "it is dangerous for you to be so high." A bird saw a man in an airplane in the sky. "Be careful man," said the bird, "it is dangerous for you to be so high." |
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| A dream of old and hope of new? |
[Feb. 16th, 2008|09:20 pm] |
Should dreams be allowed to justify actions in reality?
Without physical evidence, aren't memories just a sort of vivid dream?
So if you and I had a tiff in a dream, would I be justified in being peeved with you? Or apologizing?
I had a double dream the other night. I dreamt that I dreamt of the death of a good friend. Or close there to. In the dream dream she had fallen into a coma of sorts. There was a legitimate chance of her waking up, but as time passed most people lost hope. It was one of those fates that was worse than death in a way. I knew in the dream dream in that odd omniscience we have in dreams the circumstances of her accident, and felt as though I could prevent it. After some time the church members stopped visiting in the hospital, even the parents got weary. But everyday I would go and pray with some of the utmost passion and sincerity that I have ever prayed. Then one day I felt that in that moment she had truly passed from this earth, though the mechanism of her body still lived. Then I "woke up" in my dream. I began to pray, in both reality as we know it and the "reality" of my dream, with that same passion that I could use what I had learnt or seen to prevent this tragedy. But I couldn't. I watched, helplessly, as a series of events led to the same accident. Now the pain of loss was coupled with the grief of knowledge. When I woke up "for real" I realized I had been crying.
And now we come full circle to that initial question. I came so close that morning to dashing up to my friend, hugging her, and thanking her for still being alive. But I didn't. Maybe for fear, maybe because she wouldn't have understood in the way some would and would've been uncomfortable and a little weirded out. I think I regret that.
But what's the difference? We base so much off of what we remember, what we experience. I experience my dreams. Dreams are just memories that don't affect others.
So much. It's refreshing to be cluttered again, to feel that hope of similarity, to resound once more. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 27th, 2008|10:39 pm] |
We seem to do a lot in life out of obligation. For instance, I feel obligated to reflect or come up with some revelation or synopsis or something. Even emotions at times seem to be more obligatory than induced. Dear me, how weak we are.
After a touching song and surprise, I was (in half-jest, I believe) asked by my youth group for a speech, for three life lessons I had learned. I, in the surprise of the moment and unsureness of how serious we were being, copped out with a couple less than witty jokes. I wished I hadn't. Now I feel obligated (thank goodness it is an internal obligation rather than an external one) to right that wrong. Not yet though, and not here. I owe it to a handful of other people.
What a blessing it is to be reminded of how temporary we are. Dealing in the semi-hypothetical, what if every thirty seconds or so you had a wave of extreme self-awareness, so resounding that it could never be ignored or brushed aside. So rattling that any thoughts clouding your mind would be pushed aside and be replaced with amazement at your own mortality. I don't mean to be morbid. We just assume too much sometimes. "See you later." "I think I'll go out for dinner tonight." "I'll be there in a minute." Says who?
death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.
Please. Please. Abandon the anger, embrace the love.
And let me do the same. |
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