Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Everywhere the Great Enters the Little….CS Lewis

I remember very distinctly, when I was young (…and stupid), praying for wisdom like Mama Sue. This is where I find God to be quite humorous…guess how you get wisdom??? Yep, the same way you get courage, strength and patience. *sigh*

Perhaps this prayer is why I go very much OCD when I read or hear something that strikes a chord in me about the nature of God. I must read or listen to it over and over and over again. Perhaps I’m trying to convince myself that it’s real or maybe I have to let it sink into every atom of my being, so that I know, that I know, that I KNOW. I very much wish I could be one of those people that can read it, accept it, remember it and move on to the next thing - this I think is true wisdom. Wisdom or philosophical nonsense…something drives me on.

So, the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. Yep, I’ve read this over and over and over. I recall the analogy in The Shack about the blue bird and its limitations. That it was created to fly, but you clip his wings and he must live within the limitations of the purpose for which he was created. Or perhaps when you humor a child in conversation…you get on their level.

Today I read an excerpt from CS Lewis’ book Miracles…

"Everywhere the Great Enters the Little. We cannot conceive how the Divine Spirit dwelled within the created and human spirit of Jesus: but neither can we conceive how His human spirit, or that of any man, dwells within his natural organism. What we can understand, if the Christian doctrine is true, is that our own composite existence is not the sheer anomaly it might seem to be, but a faint image of the Divine Incarnation itself – the same theme in a very minor key. We can understand that if God so descends into Nature, and our thoughts into our senses and passions, and if adult minds (but only the best of them) can
descend into sympathy with children, and men into sympathy with beasts, then everything hangs together and the total reality, both Natural and Supernatural, in which we are living is more multifariously and subtly harmonious than we had suspected.


“…the power of the greater to include the less…Montaigne became kittenish with his kitten, but she never talked philosophy to him. Everywhere the great enters the little – its power to do to so is almost the test of its greatness.”

My mom is teaching my son GREAT things...

We went to Albany the other night to see a spectacular light display put on by a private citizen. It is truly incredible, especially when the fellow does it out of the goodness of his heart. My son was memerized. He kept saying..."This is AWESOME!!!" As we started to drive away, he sat down in the back seat, totally content that he had just witness the 'best christmas ever', let out a sigh and declared with most certainty..."I getting some of those chistmas lights when they go on sale..." Thanks Mamaw!!! You are teaching the boy right!!!

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Trying to balance on a tightrope of dental floss, juggling crystal balls, while a Bichon Frisé is biting at your heels is the best way I can describe what it feels like when you just can’t pray….whether from exhaustion, distraction, distress, oppression, deep hurt, finding it difficult to think, much less pray. Charles Spurgeon cautions… “for it would be dangerous to remain in so unhealthy a condition.” Yes Mr. Spurgeon I concur! Yet…what does one do when in such a dreadful state? Then I found this, humbled by these men, I am moved (relieved, grateful, secured).


…taken from PrayerGear...Pastor Richard Wurmbrand endured 14 years of torture by the former Soviet Communist regime, three of which were in confinement in a cell thirty feet below ground. He writes, "In solitary confinement, we could not pray
as before. We were unimaginably hungry; we had been drugged until we acted like idiots. We were as weak as skeletons. The Lord's Prayer was much too long for us-- we could not concentrate enough to say it. My only prayer repeated again and
again was, 'Jesus, I love You.' " (Tortured for Christ, 1998.)


Wurmbrand, speaking to an assembly, described even greater depths of inability. Wurmbrand explained how he no longer could worship in prayer, being beyond words. He
thought to himself something like, "If I could just stand up, Lord, would that be acceptable worship?" But Wurmbrand couldn't stand. What followed was, "If I could then just raise my arm in your name, would that be enough?" With the
little strength he had left, he struggled to raise his open hand into the darkness of his cell. He couldn't quite get it above his head. But he knew it was acceptable. That was his prayer, more profound and articulate than any I have ever offered.

Romans 8:26-27, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searched our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.”


Carlo Carretto, who joined the Order of the Little Brothers of Jesus during a prominent career as a Catholic activist, retreated into the desert of North Africa. Although a very different place than Wurmbrand's desert in the Communist gulag, Carretto observed a similar progression of prayer: "Every word of
consolation seems like a lie. One believes one has been abandoned by God. In this deeply painful state, prayer becomes true and strong even though it may be as dry as dust.


"The soul speaks to its God out of its poverty and pain;
still more out of its impotence and abjection. Words become even fewer and barer. One is reduced to silence, but this is a step forward in prayer! It is limitless, whereas every word has a limit. And spiritual greed? Oh, that's always there! It hides under the ashes, but it is less violent, more prudent.


"God now again intervenes with his consolation, since it would be impossible to live in that state of abandonment. He returns to encourage the soul with the touch of his gentleness. The soul accepts that touch with gratitude. But it has become so timid through the blows it has received that it dare not ask anything
more...Left to myself, with my own strength, I have felt the painful reality that without God's help we cannot say even 'Abba, Father.'


"Deep down the soul has understood that it must let itself be carried, that it must abandon itself to its Savior, that alone it can do nothing, that God can do everything. And if it remains still and motionless, as though bound in the faithfulness of
God, it will quickly realize that things have changed, and that its progress, though still painful, is in the right direction.


"It is the direction of love! This realization will come like light after darkness, the midday sun after the dawn. What matters is to let God get on with it." (Letters from the Desert, 2002.)

Words do not come easy sometimes or just simply aren’t enough. John says, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."

Abba, thank you that your Word is in me. “Let the Word become flesh in us, flesh of a man who accepts the kiss of Judas and calls him friend, even when he comes at the head of an armed gang to arrest you.” (With God in Solitary Confinement). Oh..., God, please go ahead and get on with it.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Homesick

So, I've had an "Aha..." moment. In my last post, I said that I felt homesick. At lunch today, I went into the local bookstore across the street - this will make only the 2nd time since its existence that I've crossed the threshold of the business. I was in the market for a journal, and it was convenient, so there you go. The journals were on the bottom shelf, and as I was hunched down a stole a glance to the next shelf. Right before my eyes was the title "HOMESICK..." Hum, what's this about? It was the gift book of Mercy Me's song entitled "Homesick." Needless to say...this book was going home with me.

For about a year and 4 months, I've been in a funk that I really, until today, couldn't figure out. And I certainly have NOT figured it all out in one lunch hour, but I do think I've been given a launch pad...so to speak. I've been quite weary...on a pilgrim's quest of some kind - information and circumstantial overload. There is just something that hasn't been quite adding up, nor do I think it ever will this side of heaven. But FINALLY an English word that can sort of sum up what I feel…Homesick.

1 Corinthians 13:12 sums it up best. “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I shall know fully just as I also have been fully known.”
This weekend will always be etched in my heart. We said our goodbyes to Joshua’s Pa Hartley. Pa graduated last week. As I write this I wonder what he is doing right now…almost with a hint of jealously. I am a foreigner in this land – this becomes more and more evident to me every day. Don’t get me wrong – of course I want to grow old with my husband and children, but I’m VERY aware that I don’t belong here – maybe the best way to described it is that I feel somewhat homesick. I’ve been told that when I see Him, I won’t ask “Why?” but rather state… “Why, of course…!” Like I’ll get “it” whatever “it” is. Yet, my urgency to get home is not to ask questions, but to continue my love story - I want to see His face CLEARLY, to be tangibly held in His embrace. I want that immediate healing of EVERY place in my fragile, broken heart the nanosecond my eyes meet His…. finally and ultimately free, secure. To have my Cinderella moment with MY Prince Charming *sigh* - I’m a true sappy romantic at heart. Oh I hear you now… “Don’t miss what today holds looking for tomorrow…” I do choose to see the blessings that every day holds, and God reflecting through His people….but oh to be smitten and dazzled by my true love. Yes, it will be a good homecoming.

We saw many old faces - they conjured up memories…good and not so good ones (I’m praying for the Lord’s mercy!). We spent most of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at Mema’s with family. Tears were shed in the beginning, but by Saturday night, I had laughed so hard that I’m my stomach muscles are still sore this morning. It was a very cleansing weekend in a sense. I also noticed how much the younger ones are growing to look like their parents and/or extended family, having the same mannerisms and facial expressions - they were easily recognizable to be "one of us." Which brings me to my next pondering... am I easily recognizable that I'm one of His daughters? Are my mannerisms and expressions reflecting of whom I truely belong...?