CowPi Journal

Addendum: I should have titled this post, “Imperfections”. (Pun not intended.)

I stepped into a chapel on Sunday. On the sloped ceiling above the sanctuary hung a large, round icon of Jesus. The colors were bright and vibrant, painted in a modern version of a Byzantine style icon of his face and shoulders. He had his right hand up with his thumb touching the third finger. From the icon, Jesus stared downward in an emotionless gaze at those present in the chapel. I looked up to the icon a second time. It must have been a hold over from my dark mood the night before, but it appeared as if Jesus was judging me. And it felt like He was not exactly happy with me.

I tried to shake the feeling off. Why would my friend be judging me like that? The feeling haunted me. It still haunts me.

Then I noticed two ideas come across my radar screen. Later that night, as I was eating dinner with a friend, she made the comment that God loves us through our imperfections. Last night, I read a line in a book that said that God unconditionally loves us completely, and that love includes our good side as well as our dark side. Hmmm… How many times do I try to turn my best side toward God in prayer?

I am seriously tempted to wonder how, or even why, God would love me, especially with my dark side. How can He love me through my imperfections? How can He love me in all my brokenness? I know that such wondering to such questions are fruitless. No deeply satisfying answer on this side of heaven exists. The answer is a matter of faith. The question itself is a matter of faith. I know what scripture says. I know what the church says. I even know what I would say to one of my students with the same questions. But still…

I asked another friend what he thought. On imperfections, he wondered if we were perfect, would we need God? Good point. He then said that through our imperfections, we come to know God. In our imperfections, God can heal us, save us, make us perfect, and bring us closer to Him. In a way, it is our imperfections that make us unique and who we are as different persons. I thought of the image of the mosaic of the Body of Christ. Our imperfections identify us as different colored stones in the mosaic—each piece is different, none is more important than another, and if one piece is missing then the whole image looks incomplete.

My friend also reminded me of what someone once said. The devil really did us a favor in the beginning. We have been blessed by the Fall because now we can learn how to truly appreciate the goodness and greatness of God through our separation and returning to Him. You cannot really appreciate something until it has been lost and found again. Reminds me of the three parables about lost items in Luke 15, a sheep, a coin, and a son.

On the feeling I had of Jesus judging me, my friend said that it was probably a gift. Without justice, there can no mercy, and that maybe I will be able to begin to understand and really appreciate what God’s mercy is all about.

I then thought about the Jesus Prayer. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. This simple prayer gets deeper and deeper the longer I travel on the journey home.

There is much to think and pray about. God uses what He can, and He has asked you and me to participate with Him in this world and in His love. I am in awe.

Please Lord, send your Holy Spirit to guide the new pope, Pope Benedict XVI, age 78, formally known as German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger.
Deepen our faith and hope in you, Lord.

We remember the 168 victims (149 adults and 19 children), the survivors (30 children were orphaned), and their families of the Oklahoma City Bombing at 9:02 am on April 19, 1995. Our prayers go out for you.

We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever. May all who leave here know the impact of violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity.

Each of the 168 chairs, representing the victims of the bombing, are lit at night to remind us of the light within each and every soul. From across the reflecting pool, you can see how that light, even though the person it represents is not visible, still affects, and reflects, in us today.

If you are ever passing through town, please stop and visit the Oklahoma City National Memorial. It will be well worth your time.

Just got back from co-directing a four day retreat for high school junior and senior girls. It was an awesome weekend, a great privilege and honor to serve others. I still need some time to process some of the powerful experiences I was graced to witness and be a part of. I hope to post something someday on them.

Checking up on all the email in my inbox today, this quote from Daily Dig was at the top:

A seeker challenged Imam Sadiq, “Convince me of the existence of God.” Knowing that the man had traveled the seas, the Imam asked him, “Have you ever been caught in a fierce storm in the middle of a voyage, your rudder gone, your sails torn, your vessel in danger of capsizing, and no land in sight?”

The man replied, “Yes.”

The Imam then asked him, “Yet was not there always, despite your black despair, a glimmer of hope in your heart that someone, somewhere—some unnamed and unknown power—could still save you?”

“Yes,” the man answered again.

To which the Imam replied, “That power is God.”

I’ve seen this recently, more than once. On this retreat, I had some time to reflect on the depression I had endured from late January to early March. I still get a day here and there that scares the hell out of me because these moments feel like I could so easy slide right back into that valley of utter darkness of ache, despair, emptiness, and loneliness.

Saturday night on the retreat was one of those moments. I could sense those feelings slowly raising like flood waters. Fear gripped me at the hopeless in stopping the advance. How deep was the water going to get this time? If it’s over my head again, how long will I be able to tread water? I’m not ready for another period of desolation so soon.

I thank God that I was there at this retreat for this little flood of negative emotions and feelings. God had placed the right people at just the right time to be there to provide me a sacramental moment for healing. Thank you Lord. This little flood washed away some of the mud and grime that was covering up some broken pieces of my heart. And many of these pieces had (have?) some ugly, jagged, and painfully sharp edges.

With grace and hope and love of Jesus, of friends, of students, and of family, the healing is beginning once again. Thank you all…