A meditation I wrote for today sent out via the Living Church Daily Devotional: CLICK HERE.
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“How long, O Lord, how long?”
I wonder how long it is that my mind will be in this space, that my refrain will be from the second part of the third verse of psalm 6, “low long, O Lord, how long?” It feels like every day is the last one I can stand. Sometimes, I ask my husband to drive me home or I sit and stare at the wall, paralyzed. Psalm 6 gives voice to my frustration. I roll my eyes and pound at my pillow, I complain and cry about this disease that leaves me dumb, disorganized, addled. But I’m asking the wrong question. Continue reading
Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in a lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we are saved by love.
Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith.
– Reinhold Niebuhr
Have you noticed the way that babies easily fold up their legs in a combination cross-ankled, knees-to-chest “fetal” position? As I’ve been practicing yoga and especially hip-opening positions this spring, I’ve become more and more amazed by babies’ effortless flexibility. Continue reading
Over coffee this morning, shop-talking with my colleague, Dane, I thought of this ole post. May the 26 y.o. Emily speak to you as she’s spoken to me–demanding courage to speak the truth at all times and in all places.
Often, while sermon-writing, words come slowly, and when they come, they seem like little clods of dirt that break apart into dust the moment you try to grasp them. This exercise sends me running through my cycle of google reader-facebook-twitter. Having just completed the circuit a few minutes before, there was nothing new on my reader, but when i typed in “fac” in my browser bar (the fewest letters necessary to bring up my worn “facebook.com” link) and arrived at the top of my newsfeed, a new photo had been posted by my sister:
She wore a white sundress, her blonde hair was down, and the big white posterboard she held up read, “Shh… just go back to sleep.” It was a photo taken for Project Unbreakable, a website dedicated to survivors of sexual assault. I’d known about the event she referred to for a few months, but seeing…
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hope of things not seen 