A friend reminded me recently that God does in fact give good gifts to his children. I usually find that statement a little too tainted with Prosperity Gospel to see its truth, but you know what - once in a while life provides so many examples of God's work that it is hard to say otherwise.
Here's some proof of this summer's good gifts [not to mention that God has at last provided direction and peace about the future]:
as a tiny seed you sleep
Friday, June 27, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
easter feasting // sunshine on rooftops
“Lord of the waters, you have set us adrift in a trackless ocean, in a leaky boat
with no oars or rudder. “Rudderless” nicely describes our situation, but
matters are worse. Even if we had a rudder, we would not know which direction
to go. We are not even sure if there are any directions—or if there are any
directions, we so distrust our wants that we do not know which way we really
want to go. In short, we feel lost and, so feeling, think it is probably your
fault. Yet you refuse to let us drown in self-pity and blame. Instead you drown
us in your good kingdom, the death and resurrection of Jesus our Lord, making
us part of that great ark, your church. The winds of your love blow that ark
out to sea, away from the shores we think might provide safety, so that we
might take on board the drowning. How wonderful it is that the more that are
taken on board, the less your ark is crowded and the safer we are. Thank you
for making us steady sailors who have no reason to fear the unknown, having
learned you would have us be at sea. Amen.”
-Stanley
Hauerwas, from Prayers Plainly Spoken
the easter roll - film from this year's paschal celebrations:
[april 20, 2014]
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Lord, we will go because you call us
The
Love of Morning
It
is hard sometimes to drag ourselves
back
to the love of morning
after
we've lain in the dark crying out
O
God, save us from the horror . . .
God
has saved the world
one more day
even
with its leaden burden of human evil;
we
wake to birdsong.
And
if sunlight's gossamer lifts in its net
the
weight of all that is solid,
our
hearts, too, are lifted,
swung
like laughing infants;
but
on gray mornings,
all
incident — our own hunger,
the
dear tasks of continuance,
the
footsteps before us in the earth's
beloved
dust, leading the way — all,
is
hard to love again
for
we resent a summons
that
disregards our sloth, and this
calls
us, calls us.
-Denise
Levertov, "The Love of Morning"
Reposted from this dear friend's blog
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
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