by Liz | Jul 23, 2008 | main
While praying morning prayers this morning (I use the Magnificat book), I found myself being prayed for:
free those who conceal their hearts in falsehood and betray the trust of others…
That slammed me. I do keep many things closed in. I hide myself and my heart so often. Sometimes out of embarrassment; sometimes out of fear that were it known what I really felt that others would be hurt more than by my concealment.
There are times when I’m not sure of the way out of this — part of me says – “Go for it! Get it out and let it be known” and part of me says “It’s wrong, the way you feel, so heal it internally, and don’t hurt anyone else.” I’m still struggling with it. Ouch!
Today I have no answers — just a lot more questions.
by Liz | Jul 21, 2008 | main
Some seasons are easy to enjoy – they are joyful segments of life. Others, not so much. And, the seasons don’t always line up one after the other. It seems they get all jumbled up. They overlap. Friends and family members might be experiencing different “seasons” all at the same time.
Now, just where did that jumble of thoughts come from? A few weeks ago, my niece got married. A season of joy and excitement. Family was be in town for the event. It was a lovely celebration at a lovely place. As I said – joy, happiness, looking forward.
At the same time, there were so many situations that felt like the wheels were falling off. One segment of the family didn’t make it because of illness and oral surgery. Another friend’s 15 year old son started intensive chemotherapy. Another friend had to go in for a transfusion – again. A season of distress, of uncertainty, of prayer.
All at the same time. Just as it always has been. In the midst of the pain and uncertainty there appears joy and hope. In the midst of joyful celebration, there will be upsets.
Sunday’s gospel included the parable of the farmer who sowed good seed. In the dark, the evil one sowed weeds. The farmer said not to go in and weed, because it was too difficult to be sure which were weeds and which plants were wheat until it came time for the harvest. Ah! That’s life everyday — wheat and weeds and it’s not always clear which is which.
It’s a relief, at least, that I don’t have to sort it out right now. It always happens that I would have gotten it wrong. How many times do I look back and realize that what seems so sad and wrong was the very thing that was required for later joy and hope? I’ll just have to leave the judgement about these things in the hands of the Lord.
Thank goodness!
by Liz | May 27, 2008 | main
It’s stuck with me for over a week now: Mercy. And more than that, the definition of Mercy as something like “womb-love.” (Thanks Jack for that). Mercy is that kind of love and relationship that most mothers have for their off-spring. It’s what makes Mama always believe in you. It’s why, despite all evidence to the contrary, Mama believes you to be worth a second, or third or thirtieth chance. It that way of acting that Hosea speaks of: “Come back to me, with all your heart, don’t let fear keep us apart.”
I often cantor repsonsorial psalms at mass, and so I remember many of them. Phrases like “The Lord is kind and merciful” or “Be merciful oh Lord for we have sinned.” Mercy is all over the scriptures.
Am I merciful? I’d like to think so. And at times, I’m pretty sure I am. But today I had to ask myself once again, “Am I merciful? Can I be merciful in this situation?” It sometimes seems easier to have mercy when I am the one harmed directly than when either my child, or my friend has been hurt. I had to sit and listen as my friend worked through a rough spot. I had to not jump on someone who jumped on my friend. I’m now at the place of beginning to pray for the whole situation. Praying for healing. Praying for honesty. Praying for folks to be able to see in the mirror clearly and work out the difficulty. Praying for the ability to be merciful, let my frustration and anger turn to mercy and compassion.
It’s just not as easy as it would seem.
by Liz | May 19, 2008 | main
Today’s gospel was a story I had almost forgotten from Mark – Jesus comes down from the mountain with Peter, James and John and comes across a crowd. A man in the crowd has brought his son who has been possessed by a “mute demon” since childhood. The other disciples had failed to cast out the demon and the father says “…if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.†I can just see Jesus’ frustration in his response of “‘If you can!’ Everything is possible to one who has faith.â€
Then the boy’s father cried out, “I do believe, help my unbelief!†Jesus casts out the demon. The boy goes limp and folks start to say “He’s dead!” Then Jesus reaches out and helps him up and he’s fine. When asked by the disciples why they couldn’t cast out the demon he replies “This kind can only come out through prayer.”
I’ve been walking through this story all day. How many times have I felt like the father – “I do believe, help my unbelief!” I’m sure I believe… I think I’m sure I believe. Help me believe!
But the boy is the one that I seem to have entered into. The description of the spirit causing the boy to try to kill himself. Being trapped with this spirit hanging around. Maybe it just seemed that death was better than living with that blasted spirit. I’ve been to a place where I could at least understand that dying didn’t seem like the worst possibility. Fortunately, I was led to understand that it wasn’t me that I wanted to kill, but there were parts of my life that had to die or be cast out if I were to live. And, when these demons were cast out, I was empty. Something it was dead – not me, but maybe some things that showed on the outside.
And then Jesus took him by the hand and helped him up. I’m not sure I’ve felt that touch that graphically. I do remember sitting in a confessional, not even knowing what to confess, but just saying that I needed to move to a different place, to be more open to life. I felt dead inside. I could only see one other person in the room, but I knew that there was a third person in the room. I’m sure of it. Inside of 30 minutes, so much of my life seemed to go topsy-turvy and I made a hard left turn. As the demons began to flee, I surely need a hand to reach out and help me up. It’s been a long and winding road, but I really believe that Jesus took me by the hand, helped me up and set me on my way.
Afterward, in private, the disciples wanted to know why they couldn’t cast out the spirit. If it’s true that this kind can only come out through prayer – then I must also believe that the night when Jesus sat in the room with us, it must have been the result of prayer. Not only my prayer, but surely others had been praying as well.
It’s a scary prayer to ask for God to widen the parameters, to step in and heal, to bring life to the fullest. It’s also good to be able to say “I believe, help my unbelief!” I still have to repeat the sequence from time to time, but slowly I begin to trust and allow myself to be helped up.
by Liz | May 18, 2008 | main
This morning’s second reading reminds me of the past week:
Brothers and sisters, rejoice.
Mend your ways, encourage one another,
agree with one another, live in peace,
and the God of love and peace will be with you.
Greet one another with a holy kiss.
It seems that I was called to be encouragement this week. I was called to step outside my own little world, which is often difficult for me to make myself do. I have a fantastic interior landscape and often forget to come out and actually act on what I think and feel and know. But this past week I actually picked up the cell phone and called my friends. I shared with them, I listened, I offered prayers. And, they returned the favor. The Spirit moved all over this land.
This is Trinity Sunday. I remember struggling with the Trinity when I was in class to “join the church” as a young teen. “Joining the church” would be Presbyterian of the 1960’s for Confirmation, as best I can tell. One went through classes and then became a member who could go to communion. In my case, as I was not baptized as an infant I was also baptized as a part of the process.
Even then, I wrestled with a lot of the theological concepts presented to us. I remember the teacher using the image of 3 candles placed so that they burned with one flame. Not such a bad image for the Trinity. My understanding has changed from those 3 candles to one much more alive and personal: The Trinity is God as community. That is a much more personal and alive understanding to me. I can see glimpses of that Trinity in action when I have coffee with my group sisters on Wednesday morning, or when I call my friend down in Monroe County and we share. The Spirit is both the driving force and the resulting force of those communal interactions — the result of communication with each other.
It seems to me that as I journey, if I listen, I find the life and love behind those abstract ideas I was taught as a child. They were rather impersonal then, but over the journey, they have taken on form and life.
As an 8th grader (not long after I joined the church), I had a couple as Sunday School teachers, who had an impact on me that they will probably never know. It was the first time I had a sense of Sunday School teachers who were teaching from the heart, teaching from a deep, personal belief, teaching from a place of faith. I’m not saying that other’s weren’t, but I didn’t pick up on it if it was there. I knew that they were different somehow and that this faith was somehow more real in them than I had even been aware of. I can’t explain how in words, but somehow God was able to get through to me, just a little bit by their example. The Spirit was at work, calling to me, and for a moment, I could hear Her and try to follow a couple of steps.
And, somehow, that is a glimpse of the Trinity.
