"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul,
'therefore I will hope in him.' "
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
"The Beautiful Changes"
"Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and thing's selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder."
I feel like I keep coming up against this piece of a poem (by Richard Wilbur); you know how there are sometimes passages or characters or descriptions you can't get away from? I've written it over and over again in my journal in different contexts, and it seems to answer all these different questions and struggles without really answering them at all.
Like how a good Father can let his children die.
Like paganism, like how the Gospel doesn't seem to have any power over the hardened sin in this world.
Like how people can love God so fiercely in the absense of their hearts.
I couldn't explain logically how it answers those, but bring in the generosity of God, and those questions turn different colors, run together, become silly, laughing, almost tongue-in-cheek.
If God holds roses in a way that says they are not only his...
Then all the breaking in the world must be like that, must be a gift like everything else.
In such kind ways.
For every loss, ever single loss, a second finding.
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and thing's selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder."
I feel like I keep coming up against this piece of a poem (by Richard Wilbur); you know how there are sometimes passages or characters or descriptions you can't get away from? I've written it over and over again in my journal in different contexts, and it seems to answer all these different questions and struggles without really answering them at all.
Like how a good Father can let his children die.
Like paganism, like how the Gospel doesn't seem to have any power over the hardened sin in this world.
Like how people can love God so fiercely in the absense of their hearts.
I couldn't explain logically how it answers those, but bring in the generosity of God, and those questions turn different colors, run together, become silly, laughing, almost tongue-in-cheek.
If God holds roses in a way that says they are not only his...
Then all the breaking in the world must be like that, must be a gift like everything else.
In such kind ways.
For every loss, ever single loss, a second finding.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Strawberry
Tear out the creeping weeds
Tear them out deep down
Where the roots gather and tangle together
To bind themselves to the heart
The core of the world
Rip them up, but gently, gently
Do not kill the strawberries
Do not pull only what you see
Uncover first, uncover the
Naked white vessels
Unravel them
And throw them on the fire
You'll need tools with teeth
You'll sweat and maybe bleed
From swellings on your palms
Your knees will grow old and ache
Sacrifices made for strawberries
Even the pretty little flower weeds
Must come out
Don't you want
To drip the sweet pink juice over ice cream
More and more
Let it collect in the bottom of the bowl
And drink it?
In front of a bonfire?
Tear them out deep down
Where the roots gather and tangle together
To bind themselves to the heart
The core of the world
Rip them up, but gently, gently
Do not kill the strawberries
Do not pull only what you see
Uncover first, uncover the
Naked white vessels
Unravel them
And throw them on the fire
You'll need tools with teeth
You'll sweat and maybe bleed
From swellings on your palms
Your knees will grow old and ache
Sacrifices made for strawberries
Even the pretty little flower weeds
Must come out
Don't you want
To drip the sweet pink juice over ice cream
More and more
Let it collect in the bottom of the bowl
And drink it?
In front of a bonfire?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
End of Lent
"Oh my God, can I complain
You take away my firm belief
And graft my soul upon your grief." --Jars of Clay (I think)
"Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust,
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees . . .
Who hopeless lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day . . .
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!" --from "Snowbound"
You take away my firm belief
And graft my soul upon your grief." --Jars of Clay (I think)
"Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust,
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees . . .
Who hopeless lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day . . .
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!" --from "Snowbound"
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Musing...
Oh my friends...
It is late. I am tired. My mom looks very cozy in her bed, and I'd like to be too...but it takes too long to brush my teeth. Would anyone like to join me in boycotting daylight savings? Just for fun? Doesn't it feel like there should be another day between Sunday and Monday?
And aren't Sundays strange? The more in tune I think I'm getting with resting and community, the harder Sundays seem to be...such a bizarre combination of rest and stress, delight and frustration that goes along with being human and loving other humans.
The terrible clarity of having the heavy burden of loving others thrust on you and realizing that you can carry it.
And I wonder if the first thing we will notice about heaven will be the smell, the smell of good food cooking.
Okay. Goodnight.
It is late. I am tired. My mom looks very cozy in her bed, and I'd like to be too...but it takes too long to brush my teeth. Would anyone like to join me in boycotting daylight savings? Just for fun? Doesn't it feel like there should be another day between Sunday and Monday?
And aren't Sundays strange? The more in tune I think I'm getting with resting and community, the harder Sundays seem to be...such a bizarre combination of rest and stress, delight and frustration that goes along with being human and loving other humans.
The terrible clarity of having the heavy burden of loving others thrust on you and realizing that you can carry it.
And I wonder if the first thing we will notice about heaven will be the smell, the smell of good food cooking.
Okay. Goodnight.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Unhypocrisy?
So every morning I'll prowl around all you guyses blog sites and grumble to myself about how no one ever updates, and I'm finally realizing what a hypocrite I am...
I've been noticing how appropriate the weather has been for Lent. (By the way, I gave up ice cream as kinda a last minute resolution because it wasn't too much of a cop out like "I give up caviar" and also didn't seem too life-altering. But I've been surprised at how much I miss it.) For devotions this year I've been using a system of Bible readings my mom gave me that follows the church year, and I like how it keeps me more in tune with seasons like Advent and Lent--it's having me go though the story of Joseph right now, which is, if you think about it, really appropriate for Lent. But this horrible weather makes everybody so hungry for spring, so hungry for a relief from grayness, so hopeful. Which is great preparation for Easter.
Do you think hope is the opposite of hypocrisy?
I've been noticing how appropriate the weather has been for Lent. (By the way, I gave up ice cream as kinda a last minute resolution because it wasn't too much of a cop out like "I give up caviar" and also didn't seem too life-altering. But I've been surprised at how much I miss it.) For devotions this year I've been using a system of Bible readings my mom gave me that follows the church year, and I like how it keeps me more in tune with seasons like Advent and Lent--it's having me go though the story of Joseph right now, which is, if you think about it, really appropriate for Lent. But this horrible weather makes everybody so hungry for spring, so hungry for a relief from grayness, so hopeful. Which is great preparation for Easter.
Do you think hope is the opposite of hypocrisy?
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