CowPi Journal

From Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs:

There’s no answer, no problem-solving, simply awareness. You cannot not live in the presence of God. You are totally surrounded by God as you read this. St. Patrick said,

God beneath you,
God in front of you,
God behind you,
God above you,
God within you.

You cannot earn this God. You cannot prove yourself worthy of this God. Feeling God’s presence is simply a matter of awareness. Of enjoying the now. Deepening one’s presence. There are moments when it happens. Then life makes sense. Once I can see the Mystery here, and trust the Mystery even in this piece of clay that I am, in this moment of time that I am—then I can also see it in you. I am able to see the divine image in myself, in you, and eventually in all things. Finally, the seeing is one. How you see anything is how you will see everything.

Either we see the divine image in all created things, or we don’t see it at all.

I want to see the face of God. God is already here, around me, in everything and in everyone. All I have to do is be aware. But how? How do I learn to “see”? One answer: prayer and living in the now. But how on the now?

Some days I think I can see Christ in the eyes of everyone I encounter. Some days I can’t. Some days everything seems to sparkle with life and energy. Some days my vision is dull, clouded and blurred. Some days anxiety and fear engulf me. Some days I simply trust and I be. Some days prayer comes easy—easy in words, easy in silence. I drink from the eternal spring and I’m refreshed. Some days, well, it’s forced and dry. Some days I feel like Martha, some days like Mary.

Every day is a dance between the real me and the worldly me—the real me connected intimately with God, who trusts, who lets go and never controls, who never hurts, and the created-ego me connected to the ways of the world, who hides behind a fragile facade, who is fearful and demands control, who hurts. The real me is aware. The ego-me only thinks he is aware.

And so I pray often, especially when I wash my hands:

Lord Jesus Christ,
purify my heart
so that I may see you,
so that I may see you in others,
and others may see you in me.

Sorry. 🙂 To see the answers, use your computer mouse to highlight the area between the arrows.

What is the Pontiff’s favorite snack food?
    >> Pope-corn <<

What does the Pontiff like on his pizza?
    >> Pope-eroni <<

What do you call a cold Pontiff?
    >> a Pope-sicle <<

What does the Pontiff like to drink?
    >> Soda pope <<

What is the Pontiff’s favoirte children’s song?
    >> Pope Goes the Weasel <<

What frustrates the Pontiff the most about the Internet?
    >> Pope-up windows <<

Here are some corny pope jokes. To see the answers, use your computer mouse to highlight the area between the arrows.

What does the Pontiff have for breakfast?
    >> Pope-tarts <<

What is the Pontiff’s favorite spice?
    >> Pope-rika <<

What is the Pontiff’s favorite air freshener?
    >> Pope-pourri <<

What do you call the photographers who hound the Pontiff?
    >> Pope-arazzi <<

Sorry. I told you they were corny.

I found this quote by Matthew Lickona, author of Swimming with Scapulars, posted at Godspy:

“To submit themselves to Christ.” Everyone must bend his or her will, but this desire to clean up one’s own spiritual mess seems a more masculine failing. From a distance, the danger is easy to see: “It’s my problem, I’ll deal with it,” leading to, “It’s my soul, I’ll sanctify it.” No, you won’t.

The problem is maintaining enough distance to keep that in mind. While in college, I read about a vision St. Jerome had of the child Jesus. Jesus asked Jerome why he hadn’t given Him everything. Jerome was mystified. “Lord,” he protested, “I have devoted my life to your service. I have given you all my works, all my love, all my praise, everything.” “No,” Jesus replied, “You haven’t given me your sins.” Give it over, offer it up. Be clay. Submit.

I am not sure if it is a “masculine failing”. I am tempted to say that it is more the failing of our false sense of perfectionism, especially when we try to apply it towards ourselves with God.

I am reminded of something I read that questioned how we pray. Do you pray in the front or back room of the house in your heart? The front room of most houses is the room where most guests are received, the living room or parlor as it was called in the old days. The front room is where the best furniture is placed. This room is kept clean, neat, and presentable. On the other hand, the back room, like my bedroom, is messy. There are clothes lying on a chair if not on the floor. The bed is not always made. A pile of small boxes sit in the corner. Books lay around here and there, unshelved. Outsiders never see the back room.

The same goes with our prayer. Do we try to meet God on our terms in the front room of our heart, where we have things all tidy and neat? Do we try to only show God our best side? OR, do we pray in the back room of our heart, where life is messy and untidy? Broken pieces of our life are laying about here and there, raw, naked, and exposed. Do you show God your perfect side, your good side, the side you are proud of? Or do you let God see your imperfections, your dark side, the side you’re a shamed of?

Which room allows God to transform us? In which room do we relinquish control and hand it over to God? Which room are you afraid to be in yourself? Which room requires you to trust God?

So, which room of your heart do you find yourself praying in, the front room or back room? Be honest with yourself. Be honest with God.