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Book of the Month: Schola Caritatis: Learning the Rhythms of God's Amazing Love

  Starting a new feature for the next several months called Book of the Month.  I will present one of my books and tell you a little of the ...

Tuesday, October 8, 2024

mercy

hang on to the scar
the hurt you have caused
let it teach and guide you
into deep humility
and acute awareness
of your immense need
for divine mercy

but let go of the guilt and shame
or it will eat you up inside
it will leave you consumed
with yourself rather than
consumed with your God

you can’t fix this mess
because you’re not
supposed to be able to fix it
that is the work of hands
much bigger than yours

so the scar remains
as a reminder of the hurt
that is still being healed
but will one day make all
stronger than ever before
but with a different
kind of strength

welcome to this new land
the world of weakness
where living from your flaws
and failures and frailties
opens you up to His strength
and His divine mercy

Sunday, October 6, 2024

shepherd and sheep

The Lord is my shepherd; I am his sheep.  He will take full and complete care of me; I do not need to worry.  In a barren land, he finds me green pastures and makes me lie down.  In a dry and arid place, he leads me to still waters where I can drink and be refreshed and renewed.  He guides me in the good way, so I don’t get lost or confused, all for his name’s sake. 

Even when the stench of death surrounds me and darkness overwhelms me, I will not fear for he is right in the middle of it with me, protecting me and directing me with his staff and his rod.  His love and his power bring me so much peace and comfort. 

He sets a table for the two of us to share an elaborate and intimate meal together.  He pours fragrant and healing oil on my head to show me that I am loved and valued.  My heart, just like my cup at his table, is always filled to overflowing with abundance and delight.  He pursues me unceasingly with his goodness and his unfailing love, so that I may live in his house, with him, forever.

Thursday, September 19, 2024

little lamb arise

 I went out looking for Jesus one day.  My twelve-year-old daughter, the light of my life and the joy of my heart, was on the verge of death.  Jesus was our last hope.  I didn’t want to leave her side, but I was desperate.  So, after I heard that he was returning from the region of the Gerasenes, I went out to meet him. 

Unfortunately, I was not alone.  Thousands of people were waiting on the shore that day for his boat to return.  Word had spread; people were everywhere!  I’d never seen such crowds.  But I was determined.  If he could help my little girl, I would walk through hot coals to make that happen.  She was everything to me, the apple of my eye, and she was dying.  There are no lengths a desperate father will not go to in order to help his beloved child.

Luckily, I was able to make my way to him.  It doesn’t hurt, I suppose, to be a synagogue ruler after all.  Thus, the crowds parted and before I knew it, I found myself face down on the ground before him, pleading for the healing of my little lamb.  And when he agreed to come with me, I was overjoyed.  A glimmer of hope began to grow in my heart.

But before we had gone twenty feet, he stopped and started looking around.  He said someone had “touched his clothes.”  Of course someone had touched his clothes, there were people crowding all around him.  His disciples even reminded him of that.  But he insisted on finding who it was.

Then a woman fell down before him on the road and admitted that she was the one who had touched him.  She went on to tell him that she had been bleeding for twelve years and had tried everything to be healed of her affliction, but instead of getting better, she had just gotten worse.  He waited patiently as she told him the whole story—twelve long years’ worth.  The same amount of time my little girl had been alive. 

I was starting to get a little panicky and frustrated over the delay, until I heard what he said to her: “Daughter, your faith has healed you.  Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”  He called her daughter.  This woman was someone’s little girl too.  In fact, he wanted her to know that she was his little girl.  She was God’s daughter.  You see, he was not just healing her body but also healing her soul.  She needed to know that she mattered.  She needed to know that she was valuable.  She needed to know that she was loved.  And now she did. 

From that moment on, I knew everything would be okay.  I knew my little girl was in good hands.  Even after some of my friends met us on the road telling us that my daughter was dead, Jesus was not deterred.  He never flinched.  He just kept walking. 

To make a long story short, he came into our house and brought peace to our chaos, joy to our sorrow, and life to our death.  He took our daughter by the hand and whispered in her ear, “Little lamb, arise!”  How could he have known that’s what I called her?  Absolutely amazing!  And as soon as he took her hand, our little lamb stood up.  She was alive again!  Jesus had entered into our desperation and brought celebration, taken away death and brought about life.  Only God could do something like that.  

That day I learned a valuable lesson: When it comes to life in the kingdom, desperation creates some of the very best soil for God to do his work.

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

a prayer of transformation

“Dear Lord, it does not take much for me to forget you. The world, my world, has so many ways of demanding my attention that I quickly allow myself to be turned away from you. You are present in this world, in my life, in all that happens. But your presence is quiet, gentle, and unspectacular. Silence, solitude, quiet prayer, a peaceful conversation, and reflective reading help me to recognize that you are with me, that you call me, that you challenge me and, most of all, that you invite me into your house of peace and joy. Yet the loud voices of the world, the endless variety of “musts” and “oughts” and the illusion that everything has the quality of an emergency, all these things pull me away from the place where you dwell and make me live as if I and not you have to save the world.

A few days away from this house of prayer has made it very clear how easily I am seduced into thinking that everything except you is worth time, attention, and effort. Lord, I pray tonight that you deepen and strengthen my awareness of your presence, so that I can live in the world without being of it. Let the last two months of my stay in this monastery make my encounter with you as strong and deep and lasting as that of Saul on the road to Damascus, so that I can see the world with the new sight you are giving me. Amen.” ~from A Cry for Mercy by Henri Nouwen

Friday, August 30, 2024

desperation and dependence

What is Jesus trying to teach you during this season of your journey?

For me it comes down to two words that are intimately connected: desperation and dependence.  Desperation is that “end of your rope” feeling that Peterson talks about in his interpretation of the Beatitudes: “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope.  With less of you there is more of God and his rule.” (Mt. 5:3, MSG) It is a feeling that comes from a deep sense of despair, an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and powerlessness.  And it leaves us with a very deep realization of our complete and total dependence upon something, or Someone, outside ourselves to come to our aid. 

Thus, desperation creates some of the very best soil for God to do his work in and through you because you are totally out of the way.  A stripping away of strength, adequacy, competence, pride, self-importance, and self-sufficiency has taken place and left us nothing to rely on except the grace and power and love of God.  Which makes us cry out, like so many in the Scriptures and beyond: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.”  Because mercy is where our desperation meets God’s unfailing love.  It is the stuff of genuine transformation.

So, what’s Jesus teaching you lately?  I would really love to hear.

Wednesday, August 28, 2024

sanctification

a stripping away
a peeling back of the layers
of strength and adequacy 
of self-importance 
and self-sufficiency 
until nothing is left

i stand naked 
and alone
before you

and you say
finally
i see you
the real you
and it’s the most
beautiful thing
I’ve ever seen

Thursday, August 15, 2024

God's mercy is greater than my sin

Henri Nouwen once wrote: “God’s mercy is greater than our sins.”  Unfortunately, we don’t always live that way.  “There is an awareness of sin,” he continues, “that does not lead to God but to self-preoccupation.”  We get so focused on our sin that we take our eyes off our God.  “Our temptation,” Nouwen concludes, “is to be so impressed by our own sins and failings and so overwhelmed by our lack of generosity that we get stuck in a paralyzing guilt.  It is the guilt that says, ‘I am too sinful to deserve God’s mercy.’  It is the guilt that leads to introspection instead of directing our eyes to God.”  Ever been there before?  I know I have.

I get so preoccupied with my sin that I fail to even acknowledge (much less experience) God’s mercy.  I get stuck inside myself and can’t seem to get out, wallowing around in my guilt and shame to the point where I never allow God to come and bathe me in his mercy and love.  Instead, I get caught in a decaying orbit of gloom, despair, and hopelessness rather than claiming the love and life and forgiveness God offers.

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love,” say the words of the ancient prayer.  “According to your great compassion blot out my transgressions, wash away all my iniquities, and cleanse me of my sin.  For I know my transgressions and my sin is ever before me.” (Ps. 51:1-3) But I also know the depths of your mercy, and that makes all the difference.  Your mercy really is greater than my sin.  It is enough to cleanse me so that I will be clean, to wash me so that I will be whiter than snow.  Help me to truly believe that, O God.  Help me to believe that your mercy is, indeed, greater than all my sin.  For only then will I be free.