CowPi
 Journal

Father, I just want to be with you. I’m tired of words. I want the clutter of thoughts in my mind to stop for awhile so that I can just pray, just exist with you. No asking for anything. No talking about things. No conversation. Just being.

I love you Father. I just want to love you. No strings attached.

Why do you love Me?

I don’t know. I just do.

Why do you love your wife?

There are no reasons Lord. I just do.

Why do you love anyone?

I don’t know. I just do. It’s something that is a part of me.

A part of you?

It is part of my essence, part of my being.

A part of your being…only a part?

Is love not a part of my being?

…

Is it my whole being?

…

Is this what Merton means that I am love. I am like you, made in your image? My true self is you?

You are like a drop of water in the ocean. Same but different. Two but one; one but two.

…

I love you Father.

I love you.

In Merton’s Palace of Nowhere, James Finley poses a most illuminating metaphor for explaining our search for a path along a spiritual journey. Although he is specifically describing the search for the true self, it aptly applies for the spiritual journey in general.

Imagine yourself standing in front of a large, freshly snow-covered field where no one has walked on. Now ask yourself, “Where is the path?”

The answer is to walk across it and there will be a path. One cannot find out first how to realize the true self [or spiritual journey] and then set out to reach the clearly visualized goal. Rather, one must walk on in faith and as one goes on, the goal appears—not before, nor within, nor beyond us, but it does appear…and it appears to no-one. It appears no-where. It appears not in revelation of a fact but a transformation of our hearts, in which, without knowing how, God transforms us into himself and we begin to realize obscurely yet deeply that our lives are hidden with Christ in God.

Of all the pitfalls in our paths and the tremendous delays and wanderings off the track I want to say that they are not what they seem to be. I want to say that all that seems like fantastic mistakes are not mistakes, all that seems like error is not error; and it all has to be done. That which seems like a false step is the next step.

— Agnes Martin [via]

The prodigal son must leave home in order to truly find home.

The Lord looks on his servants with pity and not with blame. In God’s sight we do not fall; in our sight, we do not stand. Both of these are true, but the deeper insight belongs to God.

— Julian of Norwich

I love this image with its allusions to a wintery night.

The image is from the cover of guitarist Peter Janson’s CD Somewhere from Here. (By the way, a CD that I most highly recommend.) It is most likely painted by his wife Bernadette Levasseur.

Life is like a pearl: it needs a grain of sand at its center—death—as the irritant, the enemy, to stimulate the production of the mother-of-pearl of life around it. But death remains at its center. At the heart of life there is death. Death is our being. Man is mortal.

— Peter Kreeft, Love is Stronger than Death

Either life has meaning, or it does not. If life has meaning, then death must also have meaning. How you view death is essentially how you view life.

A syllogism:

“Death is our being.”
Death appears as nothing.
Therefore, nothingness is our being.

Hmmm…is the syllogism true? Is it a paradox—a mystery to explore, not solve, not conquer, not resolve, only to make aspects of it more clear.

I ask, “What is being?” What is nothingness?”

It all seems pointless. Maybe that is the point.

“Death is no accident if love is no accident.”

Just heard a beautiful but somewhat sad Christmas song by Gloria Estefan . The refrain is the best line of the song. I want this for next Christmas.

I wanna see Christmas through Your eyes.

As an iHermit, I minimize my time on the internet, but I still visit a couple sites like PostSecret. This postcard was posted last week:

The emailed comment posted underneath this postcard says:

I believe that a new religion could be based on this single postcard.

It is a crying shame that we have distorted religion so much that many people cannot see that this is the very same message of Jesus.

I was listening to “All Things Considered” on NPR the other evening, and this story about atheists came on. One segment of the story described how atheists are deeply offended, especially when used by the media, by the old axiom, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” Apparently atheists find it degrading to expect them to give up their convictions because of extreme peril.
I do not doubt that atheists are offended, and I do not expect most atheists to change their convictions in such situations and suddenly believe in God. But the old axiom does illustrate a deep truth. In situations of danger, there is always some element of hope. It is human nature to hope and wish for assistance out of a perilous situation. And although an atheist would deny it, hope is prayer. Hope, like prayer, looks outward from ones self. It places some kind of trust, confidence, assurance, faith, or whatever you want to call it, in someone or something other than ones self, be it luck, human, or God, to save them from harm.
Hope is grace, and it is a gift from God whether you believe in Him or not. Just like your next breath.

I have been struggling with purpose lately, my purpose. What specifically is my purpose in life? What is my part in the big picture of God’s plan? I know and trust that God has a purpose for all things, including me (see Psalm 139). Either life has meaning or it does not; either everything has meaning or nothing does.

I was looking through a stack of my books this morning to find a particular book to loan someone. In the book, I had left a fortune from a fortune cookie as a bookmark. It read:

Your efforts will be worthwhile.

My experience lately, especially with my students today, does not confirm this statement. I know that my effort, if that is what you call it, with my family, my friends, and my students is worth it. In some ways I think I know how, but in many ways I do not. I trust in God that all is according to His providence. It is just that the discontinuity between my experience at times and what faith tells me is deflating. I have read that times like these strengthen faith. Another reason why to keep hope alive (as Fr. Scott always says).

It seems odd to say, but part of me is happy for this time of desolation. I know that God is with me, transforming me. I just need to stay out of the way. Let go, let God as they say.

(And maybe I should place the fortune in another book for some other day…)

This song by Natalie Grant is really a prayer. It says much about where I am at lately. I can’t do this. I need Your help. I trust in You.

I’ve been silent instead of speaking up
Gave my advice instead of giving love
I have been unfair, faithless and unkind
I have shut my eyes just so I would stay blind
It’s not what I’m meant to do
Cause I wanna honor You

Make me over, make me new
Make me a mirror, a reflection of You
Take me all apart, take me to Your heart
And pull me closer
Oh Jesus, make me over

Take away the pride that whispers in the dark
Take the stone out of the middle of my heart
Hidden underneath my insecurities
Is the servant that You’ve destined me to be
Day after precious day
I get in my own way

So make me over, make me new
Make me a mirror, a reflection of You
Take me all apart, take me to Your heart
And pull me closer
Sweet Savior, make me over

I am only made of Your imagining
I’m dust and clay on the wind
Wash me in the river of Your sacrifice
Until I’m changed, purified

Take me all apart, take me to Your heart
And pull me closer
My Jesus, make me over