Depression might have chosen you…
· 31 March 2005
Depression might have chosen you, but you don’t have to choose it back. Sometimes happiness comes with bootstraps, but so what? Pull ‘em up. Choose joy.
· 31 March 2005
Depression might have chosen you, but you don’t have to choose it back. Sometimes happiness comes with bootstraps, but so what? Pull ‘em up. Choose joy.
· 30 March 2005
Henceforth, when we feel the hammers of life beating on our heads or on our hearts, we can know—we must know—that he is here with us, taking our blows. Every tear we shed becomes his tear. He may not yet wipe them away, but he makes them his. Would we rather have our own dry eyes, or his tear-filled ones? He came. He is here. That is the salient fact. If he does not heal all our broken bones and loves and lives now, he comes into them and is broken, like bread, and we are nourished. And he shows us that we can henceforth use our very brokenness as nourishment for those we love. Since we are his body, we too are the bread that is broken for others. Our very failures help heal other lives; our very tears help wipe away tears; our being hated helps those we love. When those we love hang up on us, he keeps the lines open.
· 29 March 2005
God’s mercy and forgiveness is radical, extravagant, and very costly indeed. It is also completely beyond our control and understanding, and that can be very, very frightening. In a way, more frightening because it is good than it might be if it were evil, because it is something we know we really must accept, someting we really aren’t supposed to have any defenses against. Frightening the way major surgery is—you really, really need it, you don’t completely understand it, you realize that it is really going to hurt before everything is finished, and you are not sure how things are really going to work out.
« πλ | Fear, Forgiveness »
· 28 March 2005
There is an old legend that after his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent he looked up and saw, way, way up, a tiny glimmer of light. After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards it. The walls of the pit were dank and slimy, and he kept slipping back down. Finally, after great effort, he neared the top, and then he slipped and fell all the way back down. It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb up again. After many more falls and efforts and failures he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around a table. “We’ve been waiting for you, Judas,” Jesus said. “We couldn’t begin till you came.”
« πλ | Forgiveness »
· 27 March 2005
Do you desire security? Here you have it. The Lord says to you, “I will never abandon you, I will always be with you.” If a good man made you such a promise, you would trust him. God makes it, and do you doubt? Do you seek a support more sure than the word of God, which is infallible? Surely, He has made the promise, He has written it, He has pledged His word for it, it is most certain.
· 26 March 2005
For the sacrificed, in the hour of sacrifice, only one thing counts: faith—alone among enemies and skeptics. Faith, in spite of the humiliation which is both the necessary precondition and the consequence of faith, faith without any hope of compensation other than he can find in a faith which reality seems so thoroughly to refute.
· 25 March 2005
I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the one Nietzsche ridiculed as “God on the Cross.” In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us.
· 24 March 2005
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins.”
· 23 March 2005
If God seems slow in responding, it is because He is preparing a better gift. He will not deny us. God withholds what you are not yet ready for. He wants you to have a lively desire for His greatest gifts. All of which is to say, pray always and do not lose heart.
· 22 March 2005
To me, science stands mute at the threshold where my questions begin. These inarticulate questions, and Nature, slip gracefully between the facts—like a wild animal, whose foreknowledge of your presence allows it to melt quietly away without being perceived.
· 21 March 2005
Jesus went into the temple and boldly drove out those that bought and sold. And when all was cleared, there was nobody left but Jesus. Observe this, for it is the same with us: when he is alone he is able to speak in the temple of the soul.
If anyone else is speaking in the temple of your soul, Jesus will keep still, as if he were not at home. And he is not at home wherever there are strange guests—guests with whom the soul holds conversation, guests who are seeking to bargain. If Jesus is to speak and be heard, the soul must be alone and quiet.
« πλ | Silence, Spirituality »
· 20 March 2005
It is our part to seek,
His to grant what we ask;
ours to make a beginning,
His to bring it to completion;
ours to offer what we can,
His to finish what we cannot.
· 19 March 2005
Free will is a gift. It’s an instrument. How you play it is up to you. But it is best when it is played from the heart.
« πλ | Movie, Spirituality »
· 18 March 2005
Thank God for what you have…trust Him for what you need.
« πλ | Faith, Thanksgiving »
· 17 March 2005
One of the quickest ways to meet new people is to pick up the wrong ball on the golf course.
« πλ | Observation »
· 16 March 2005
Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important.
· 15 March 2005
If a man insists on quarreling with you, lend him your ear, but not your voice.
· 14 March 2005
You don’t learn by having faith. You learn by questioning, by challenging, by re-examining everything you’ve ever believed. And yet, all this is a matter of faith—the faith that there is a truth to be found.
It is another paradox: To truly question, you must truly have faith.
· 13 March 2005
Be as careful of what you read as the company you keep.
· 12 March 2005
You make a living by what you get; you make a life by what you give.
« πλ | Compassion, Hospitality »
· 11 March 2005
Of all bad things by which mankind is curst, their own bad tempers surely are the worst.
· 10 March 2005
Remember, most smiles are started by another smile.
« πλ | Compassion »
· 9 March 2005
God gives every bird feed, but He does not put it in the nest.
· 8 March 2005
The more self is indulged, the more it demands.
· 7 March 2005
An ounce of “don’t say it” is worth a pound of “didn’t mean it”.
· 6 March 2005
Even if you are on the right track, you will get run over if you just sit there.
« πλ | Motivation, Observation »
· 5 March 2005
Our temper will get us in trouble, but our pride will keep us there.
· 4 March 2005
Experience is the hardest kind of teacher. It gives you the test first and the lesson later.
· 3 March 2005
The only difference between stepping stones and stumbling blocks is how we use them.
· 2 March 2005
We can read all the books that have ever been written about prayer, but until we actually choose…to pray, we will never learn.