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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 ...

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