listening to the voice of the Lord

"Jesus said: 'Amen, amen, I say to you, 

whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate

but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber.

But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep.

The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice,

as he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.

When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, 

and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice.

But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him,

because they do not recognize the voice of strangers."

Jn 10:1-5

We live in a loud, noisy world - and most of us really lack the concept of silence - sometimes, silence even makes us nervous. (And no, I'm not talking about awkward silences in conversation with friends, although those can definitely make us nervous, too!) 

Why does silence make us nervous? I'm sure in part, it's because we're not used to it. 

But I think it's also because silence leaves an obvious opening for God to speak, and we're often scared of what we're going to hear him say. Certainly, we are his sheep, and as such, we know his voice, but that voice is much harder to ignore when it's the only one we hear. It's much easier to crank up the music, to stay in the noise and loudness of our everyday lives than it is to be in silence, and to listen for the voice of God. Just like it's much easier to listen to the world's message than it is to listen to God's message. It's easier to be affirmed in our worldliness than it is to be challenged to live life in the freedom of the children of God - to be challenged to love, live, and sacrifice like Christ. 

In that spirit of silence, my friends, I'll be absent from the blog for a few days this week - taking some time for recollection and quiet, and God willing, listening to his voice more closely.

So, I'll see you in a few days... in the meantime, peace, and all good to you all... you are in my prayers. 

  

shepherds

"Jesus said: 'I am the good shepherd.

A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.

A hired man, who is not a shepherd and whose sheep are not his own,

sees a wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away,

and the wolf catches and scatters them.

This is because he works for pay and has no concern for the sheep.

I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me,

just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I will lay down my life for the sheep.

I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.

These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice,

and there will be one flock, one shepherd.

This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.

No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own. 

I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again.

This command I have received from my Father.'"

Jn 10:11-18

Most of us have grown up with the idea of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, and probably haven't given the it much additional thought. However, the fact that Jesus uses the terminology of the good shepherd is intriguing. As I understand it, in the time of Christ, shepherds weren't exactly, well... viewed in a positive light. They were viewed among the lowest of the low - right there with tax collectors and Samaritans. Yep. That's right.  

In the context of the time, I think it's safe to say that Jesus was making a statement to his fellow men not only about loving and accepting all people, but also that, as he taught his apostles, in order to lead, the greatest must become the least. It's a statement that holds true for us today. To lead others to Christ, to bear witness to him, we have to be willing to be the least - in a sense, to be shepherds - to be among those held in low esteem. Hmmm. Worth serious thought, but harder than hard to put into action, right? Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know. 

Along the lines of shepherds, though shifting gears a bit... you know, I think we're all called to lead others to Christ, but we're called to do that in different ways. Those different ways are called vocations. The word vocation has its root in the Latin vocare - a verb that means "to call" - so it's no surprise that when we talk about vocations, we often speak of people being "called" to a specific state of life. 

For those of us who are Catholic, the Fourth Sunday of Easter (that would be today!) is known as "Good Shepherd Sunday," and is also the World Day of Prayer for Vocations. 

Every vocation is important - priestly, consecrated, married, single - and we should pray for each other in whatever state of life we're in - but it's vital for us to pray for more vocations to the priesthood and consecrated life. The people of God are in constant need of holy priestly shepherds to guide us along the way of Christ, and although vocations are up, we need more. We also need to dedicate time to praying for those who are already ordained and serve in our parishes - pray for their holiness, their strength, their health, and that they may follow the example of Christ to truly be good shepherds for his people - that they may be willing to make sacrifices, to be servant-shepherd-leaders who lay down their lives for the people, and to be faithful to the promises they have made to live out their vocations in single mindedness, at the service of the Gospel of Christ. 

"Shepherd me, oh God, beyond my hopes, beyond my fears, from death into life." 

conversion

"It is the Spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail.

The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and life.

But there are some of you who do not believe.'

Jesus knew from the beginning the ones who would not believe

and the one who would betray him.

And he said, 'For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me

unless it is granted him by my Father.'

As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life

and no longer walked with him.

Jesus then said to the Twelve, 'Do you also want to leave?'

Simon Peter answered him, 'Master, to whom shall we go?

You have the words of eternal life.

We have come to believe

and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.'"

Jn 6:63-69

Even those of us who count ourselves among those who believe must realize at some point that life in Christ is a continual process of conversion. We fall, we get up, we keep going, we fall, we get up, we keep going... and we keep growing. We keep getting up and moving forward because we know, like St. Peter did, that Jesus has the words of eternal life, that he is the Holy One of God. 

I want to share a story with you today that was recently shared with me by a priest, about an experience he had in the seminary. He told me, "There was an elderly priest who was a professor at my seminary - he was probably 90 years old - so he'd probably been a priest for 60 years. I ran into him on campus one afternoon, and he greeted me, and said, 'Pray for my conversion!' And I said to him, 'Father, what do you mean? You've been 'converted' for years!' He said to me, 'Well, I have been a priest for many years. And one day, you may be a priest, too. But that doesn't mean we've made it. We should constantly be undergoing conversion in our lives.'"

Wisdom, eh? I think this story is a good reminder, not only of the fact that none of us have "made it," and we won't until we actually make it to eternity - but also of the fact that none of us are perfect, we all screw up, and if we want keep going, to keep growing - if we don't want to return to our former ways of life, but keep moving forward to new life, deepened life in Christ - we have to keep "converting," too. 

+Peace, and all good. 

hope for the blind

"Saul, still breathing murderous threats against the disciples of the Lord,

went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, that,

if he should find any men or women who belonged to the Way,

he might bring them back to Jerusalem in chains. 

On his journey, as he was nearing Damascus, a light from the sky suddenly flashed around him. 

He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him,

'Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?'

He said, 'Who are you, sir?' 

The reply came, 'I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. 

Now get up and go into the city and you will be told what you must do.' 

The men who were traveling with him stood speechless,

for they heard the voice but could see no one.

Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing;

so they led him by the hand and brought him to Damascus.

For three days he was unable to see, and he neither ate nor drank.

There was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias,

and the Lord said to him in a vision, 'Ananias.' 

He answered, 'Here I am, Lord.' 

The Lord said to him, 'Get up and go to the street called Straight

and ask at the house of Judas for a man from Tarsus named Saul.

He is there praying, and in a vision he has seen a man named Ananias

come in and lay his hands on him, that he may regain his sight.'

But Ananias replied, 'Lord, I have heard from many sources about this man,

what evil things he has done to your holy ones in Jerusalem.

And here he has authority from the chief priests to imprison all who call upon your name.' 

But the Lord said to him,'Go, for this man is a chosen instrument of mine

to carry my name before Gentiles, kings, and children of Israel,

and I will show him what he will have to suffer for my name.' 

So Ananias went and entered the house; laying his hands on him, he said,

'Saul, my brother, the Lord has sent me,

Jesus who appeared to you on the way by which you came,

that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.' 

Immediately things like scales fell from his eyes

and he regained his sight. He got up and was baptized,

and when he had eaten, he recovered his strength.

He stayed some days with the disciples in Damascus,

and he began at once to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues,

that he is the Son of God."

Acts, 9:1-20

If today's reading from Acts tells us anything, it should be that God can do anything with anyone. 

Saul - a.k.a. Paul - was an A-1 grade persecutor of the early Church - a young Pharisee who knew the rules and regs of the Jewish faith, and followed them to the letter. 

And then, God knocked Saul off his horse on the road to Damascus - and changed his life forever. 

Has God ever knocked you off your "horse" - shown you that the way you'd been doing things just wasn't going to cut it anymore? That he wanted something new, something better for you? 


We can live in blindness to all kinds of things - we can be blind to what God calls us to, we can be blind to the pain of those around us, blind to injustice, blind to those who need us. Just like Saul, we need the action of the Holy Spirit to make those scales of blindness fall from our eyes so we may see rightly. 


Ultimately, we should have faith and hope that God will clarify our spiritual vision. The story of Saul's conversion should remind us that no matter how far we may feel we've fallen, or how far away from God we are, there is always hope. If God can do great things through one who persecuted his Church so terribly, he can certainly accomplish good things through us, as well, so long as we are willing to cooperate with his plan. 


+Peace, and all good. 

remember who you wanted to be

Remember who you wanted to be.

She read it off the bumper sticker on the car in front of her. Sitting at a stoplight a few minutes later, she googled it from her phone in an attempt to find out who had offered the world this little piece of wisdom. She couldn’t find an attribution for the quote. I suppose it really doesn't matter who said it/wrote it/came up with it/whatever, she thought, that's not really the point.

The point was remembering who she'd wanted to be. Who she'd wanted to be when? Yesterday? Last year? Five years ago? Longer? 

To some extent, she realized, she was that person, but in other respects, she wasn't. But more importantly, she certainly couldn't have anticipated the path she'd taken to get to there - no one but God could have anticipated that. The road she'd taken was different than what she'd expected. Just because it was different didn't mean it was bad, though - and she wasn't the one who'd been in control of it. The path had been less linear than the one she'd hoped for, but so far, the outcome had been just fine. She found herself realizing that indeed, though she wasn't precisely the person she'd wanted to be, that was okay. She was who she needed to be, and that was more important. 

Yeah, she thought, I remember who I wanted to be, and how I thought I'd get there. For better or for worse, I had it wrong. I told God my plans, and he laughed at them. 

Then he gave me something better. 

Sometimes we have to take unanticipated paths - and sometimes even very hard ones - to find the destinations along our way. 

+Peace, and all good. 

taking the Word to the world

"We cannot become saints merely by trying to run away from material things. 

To have a spiritual life is to have a life that is spiritual in all its wholeness - 

a life in which the actions of the body are holy because of the soul, 

and the soul is holy because of God dwelling and acting in it... 

The saint, therefore, is sanctified not only by fasting when he should fast 

but also by eating when he should eat. 

He is not only sanctified by his prayers in the darkness of the night, 

but by the sleep that he takes in obedience to God, Who made us what we are."

- Thomas Merton, in No Man is an Island

Thomas Merton is a recent favorite of mine. I know some people are a little bothered by Merton for various reasons, and to be honest, that always made me a bit uneasy about reading his works - but curiosity finally got the better of me, and I started reading No Man is an Island. It's a great book (admittedly, I'm not done with it yet), and I think Merton's spiritual wisdom shines in its pages. Hope, prayer, conscience, intention, suffering, sacrifice, vocation... he covers it all.

The passage above holds great meaning for me, and I would think, for most of us living in the world today. To some extent, our view of sainthood and holiness is bound up to some extent in the idea that, to achieve such a goal, we have to strip ourselves of absolutely everything, and become perfectly ascetic. And of course, there are plenty of saints who speak to this example - and I am not trying to say we should not follow their example - but I think Merton makes excellent points here, too.

"We cannot become saints merely by trying to run away from material things." Though we should work to be unattached to material things, there is more to our spiritual lives than just that - ultimately, as Merton says, we learn holiness by obedience to God - eating and sleeping as he created us to do. And, since the majority of us are not called to be hermits, or to live in a cloister, we also do all these things in the world - where others can see us. The best witness we can give to others is the way we live our lives in obedience to God. In living our lives in this obedience, we are sanctified... and in observing the way we live, others may come to believe and be sanctified, as well.

We don't live in a vacuum. We can't live in a vacuum if we are to "proclaim the Gospel to every creature," as was read from St. Mark's gospel at Mass today. We have to be willing to be "out there," in the world - after all, God made us social creatures for a reason. ;-)  Something worth considering a bit more today - the feast of St. Mark the evangelist, author of the first gospel - a man who was obviously of saint-grade holiness, but who also took the Word out to the world.

Besides, life in a vacuum would suck.


+Peace, and all good!

reasons to believe

"The crowd said to Jesus:

'What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you?

What can you do?

Our ancestors ate manna in the desert, as it is written:

He gave them bread from heaven to eat.'

So Jesus said to them,

'Amen, amen, I say to you,

it was not Moses who gave the bread from heaven;

my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. 

For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven

and gives life to the world.'

So they said to Jesus,

'Sir, give us this bread always.' 

Jesus said to them, 'I am the bread of life;

whoever comes to me will never hunger,

and whoever believes in me will never thirst.'"

(Jn 6:30-35)

Reasons to believe. I think we've all looked for them, at one time or another - or at least, I know I have. We live in a world that is driven by facts, by quick information, that wants proof of everything. We don't easily accept invisible things. A healthy dose of skepticism never hurt anyone - but that's not quite the same thing as what I'm talking about. Skepticism is a good thing, when it leads us to question, to think for ourselves, and ultimately, to come to a conclusion about the truth. But if we are so caught up in the need for physical, seeing-it, touching-it, proof, we end up denying part of our very selves in the process - the invisible part - our souls. The part that wants to believe without seeing, that doesn't need physical proof to know the truth. 

Besides, one sign is never enough, because there are some things for which some of us will never be able to find enough proof - or perhaps not spectacular enough proof. One sign wasn't enough for the crowds who flocked to Jesus. At this point in St. John's gospel, Jesus had already multiplied the loaves and fishes, feeding the five thousand - yet the people want to see another sign. When he offered himself to them as that sign, many walked away, or resorted to arguing about what he meant. Perhaps they thought he would give them some obvious, great, cosmic sign. Instead, he gives them something greater - himself - but that required the eyes of faith to see. 

May the eyes of our faith be open... that the words of Christ Jesus may be our "reasons to believe."

+Peace, and all good. 

roses from St. Therese

I started a novena to St. Therese of Lisieux (another of my most beloved saints) this morning. I won't share the novena intention, but for those who are unfamiliar, it's somewhat "traditional" to ask St. Therese to send you a rose in acknowledgement of her intercession for your intentions. And yes, she does send roses, seriously! I can attest to this.

OK. Wait a minute. Maybe I should back up here. For the non-Catholics who may be reading this: let's get this whole "praying to saints" thing cleared up.

Yes, we pray to the saints.

No, we do not worship them. We honor them as people of great holiness, who have gone before us, and now reside in heaven. We also believe that since they are in heaven, they are in a particularly good place to pray for us, and offer our intentions to God.

Think about it this way: when you are in a sticky situation, or just need some extra help with the Almighty, for whatever reason, what do you do, besides saying your own prayers? You probably ask your friends and family to pray for you - to intercede to God on your behalf. Right? When Catholics talk about praying to the saints, that's the same way we approach things. The saints are our friends, our family - the difference is that they're in heaven - and I don't know about you, but the having someone in heaven praying to God for my intentions doesn't sound too bad!

Hopefully that clears up any of those nasty rumors about Catholics supposedly worshipping saints. Those nasty rumors are false, okay? If you have any other questions about this, or want more clarification, shoot me an email and let me know.

OK - back to the story. So, I started a novena to St. Therese this morning, and I asked her to send me a rose (or two, heh heh). She's sent me roses before - most often, pink ones.

I made it through the rest of the day at work (side note: I am so grateful that ash pollen is lower this week than last!), picked up cat food on the way home - an average Monday afternoon. After I got home and settled in, I walked out to check the mail. This is the first spring we've lived in this house, and we have a nice little gated courtyard area in the front that has a couple of trees and a few bushes. One of them is holly, which the bees adore, and as I walked out of the courtyard to check the mail, I was mostly trying not to irritate them. A few minutes later, coming back with the mail, I walked through the gate, and looked right at the rosebush in the courtyard that I'd walked past on my way to the mailbox without even noticing.

It was covered with pink roses.

Okay, you're thinking, seriously? You knew that pink rosebush was there, you live in this house!!!

Well, okay, yeah, I did know that rosebush was there. I had even noticed a few days ago that it had some early buds on it. But... (there's always a but...) I didn't know it was pink (or that it was that close to blooming - believe me, this was not one of those intentional, self-fulfilling kind of things!).

When we moved in last July, the rosebush was blooming - and its flowers were yellow. No sign of pink anywhere. I looked more closely at the rosebush this evening, and it appears to be two different varieties that were planted so close together, they became intertwined. Their leaves are actually different, something I'd never noticed before.

In any case, I have a bush full of perfect pink roses in my courtyard.
Thank you, St. Therese... please pray for us!

And... some photographic evidence (because you knew I'd have it):

something new

"Remember not the events of the past, 

the things of long ago consider not;

See, I am doing something new!

Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?

In the wilderness I make a way, 

in the wasteland, rivers."

Isaiah 43:18-19

How hard it can be for us to let go of our past - to let go of the things we have not done in Christ - to let go of the sins we have since received forgiveness for. Why do we hold on to them sometimes, even when God is telling us let them go? When God speaks through the prophet Isaiah in the above passage, I don't think he's so much telling us to completely forget about all the bad things we've done (because we often need that reminder to keep from doing the same things again!), as he is telling us that once those things have been forgiven, we shouldn't continue to beat ourselves up over them. 


If we cling to our past, if we hold on to our old selves, we will inevitably miss what God wants to do in our lives now. In short, we need to live in the present in order to be present to God - and to see what the "something new" is that he calls us to. Just like yesterday, when we talked about Jesus walking toward us on the water, calling us to do his work, we can also think of him making a path through the wilderness of our souls - forming a river of his grace and love in our own wastelands. 


Our God is dynamic - he is always doing something new - but Easter, in particular, is all about God "doing something new" - offering us new life through Christ's cross and resurrection... offering us the freedom to walk as sons and daughters of God... offering us the forgiveness of our sins through Christ's blood, and the healing of our brokenness through the breaking of his body. 


What is the "something new" Christ is asking me to perceive in my life? What is the "something new" he is asking you to perceive in yours? What does he ask of us? Are we listening? Are we watching? 

stormy seas

"When it was evening, the disciples of Jesus went down to the sea,

embarked in a boat, and went across the sea to Capernaum.

It had already grown dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them.

The sea was stirred up because a strong wind was blowing.

When they had rowed about three or four miles,

they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat,

and they began to be afraid.

But he said to them, 'It is I. Do not be afraid.'

They wanted to take him into the boat,

but the boat immediately arrived at the shore

to which they were heading."

(Jn 6:16-21)

Imagine being in a rowboat on rough seas - and in the dark. I think it's fair to say that most of us haven't had that experience, but we can imagine that it would probably be fairly unnerving. It would be even more unnerving if one of your friends came walking on the water toward your rowboat on that stormy sea. 

So, it's no big surprise that the apostles, maybe a bit shaken by the stormy sea - though likely not terrified, since most of them were fishermen and had spent plenty of time on the water - are scared when they see Jesus walking toward them over the water. Jesus makes no explanation, but identifies himself to them, and then tells them, "Do not be afraid." 

As usual, I think there's an analogy here for us, and for our experiences. We're all cast out on the sea known as life, in our rowboats, trying to stay afloat in the midst of darkness, in the midst of all kinds of storms. Of course, in times when the water is calm, rowing is easy; and when it's light out, it's much easier to find our way. But at night, in the "darkness," it becomes much more difficult to navigate. Add in a storm or two, and uh-oh, Houston, we have a problem.

In the darkness, in the midst of storms, God often asks us to do things that are not easy. In a sense, he walks toward our boat in the darkness - when we recognize that it is him, and he is asking us to do something hard, we become afraid - perhaps in part because we simply wanted him to calm the storm! Here he is, asking something difficult of us, and all the while telling us not to be afraid. Seriously?!?!?

But he also identifies himself... he tells us who he is, that it is indeed him, "It is I," the I AM. That identification is powerful when it spurs recognition on our part. When we recognize Jesus, like the apostles did, we want to take him into our boat with us - in other words, we welcome his presence, and want to do what he is asking of us, however difficult. Sometimes we don't recognize him, or welcome his presence - but that's another post for another time. 

When we do recognize and welcome Jesus, we find that we are exactly where we are supposed to be - which is wherever he wants us. For the apostles, this was at the shore to which they were traveling - disembarking from the boat, and moving forward with Christ in his ministry. For us, maybe it's repairing a broken relationship, or doing something to help someone in need, or taking action to defend the dignity of human life, or even rededicating ourselves to recognizing and welcoming the transforming presence of Jesus in our lives. 

Sometimes, the rowing gets rough. Sometimes it's hard to see Jesus when he walks to us over the water, and sometimes it's hard to recognize his voice. Practice (prayer, and enduring trials) makes perfect - or at least, makes it easier to recognize his voice, and more eager to welcome him - knowing he comes to dispel our fears, and do good for us, even when he asks us to do difficult things. 

+pace, e bene. 

five loaves and two fish

"Jesus went across the Sea of Galilee.

A large crowd followed him,

because they saw the signs he was performing on the sick.

Jesus went up on the mountain,

and there he sat down with his disciples.

The Jewish feast of Passover was near.

When Jesus raised his eyes and saw that a large crowd was coming to him,

he said to Philip, 'Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?'

He said this to test him,

because he himself knew what he was going to do.

Philip answered him,

'Two hundred days' wages worth of food would not be enough

for each of them to have a little.'

One of his disciples,

Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him,

'There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish;

but what good are these for so many?'

Jesus said, 'Have the people recline.'

Now there was a great deal of grass in that place.

So the men reclined, about five thousand in number.

Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks,

and distributed them to those who were reclining,

and also as much of the fish as they wanted.

When they had had their fill, he said to his disciples,

'Gather the fragments left over,

so that nothing will be wasted.'

So they collected them,

and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments

from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat.

When the people saw the sign he had done, they said,

'This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world.'

Since Jesus knew that they were going to come and carry him off

to make him king,

he withdrew again to the mountain alone."

(Jn 6:1-15)

This Gospel passage is a wonderful reflection on nothing less than the amazing generosity of our God. Jesus feeds the five thousand by multiplying a mere five loaves and two fish. 

Not only do all present eat their fill - but there are leftovers!

Now, when I cook, I always think the leftovers are the best part because I can take them for lunch the next day. But when Jesus "cooks," the leftovers are the best part because they can be shared with others - literally, in this case, but also figuratively, in our lives. What is the best part of God's grace and love acting in our lives? That God gives generously, to the point of overflowing, so that we can share his gifts, so that we can share him with others. 

All the boy had were five loaves and two fish, and he offered them to Jesus and the disciples. Five loaves. Two fish. All he had - and he offered them to Jesus - who gave back to him, and gave to the crowd, more than they could consume, more than they needed for themselves. Jesus gave generously, so that his generosity could be shared, directing the disciples to "gather the fragments... so that nothing will be wasted." 

Before Jesus feeds the multitude, Andrew asks the him, referring to the loaves and fish, "but what good are these for so many?" Have you ever asked God something similar, perhaps thinking about yourself - "what good can I possibly do, when the world is so messed up?" And yet, God shows us that we can do much good. We can impact the world - when we accept his generosity, and share his abundant gifts - love, mercy, hope - everything he offers. 

I think we would do well to remember the example of the boy who gave Jesus the five loaves and two fish that were all he had, and endeavor to do the same - to give Jesus everything we have - knowing he is generous beyond all measure.


I think we would also do well to remember those five loaves and two fish. Though small and seemingly insignificant, they provided food for more than five thousand people. When we feel small and seemingly insignificant, perhaps this will buoy our hope, and help remind us that God does great things with small things. 


+peace, and all good, my friends. 

i knew much more then...

"The more you see, the less you know - the less you find out as you go - I knew much more then, than I do now." - U2, City of Blinding Lights

I knew much more five years ago than I do now. Sure, I know more about the world. I know more about my family and my friends. Thanks to grad school, I know much more about science and engineering. 


But at the end of the day, "I knew much more then, than I do now." 


I thought I knew a lot about human nature - both its goodness, and its "badness." I've since found I was clueless about the depths possible in both. 


I thought I really knew and understood truth. In reality, I had bounded it by my own preconceived ideas. 


I thought I understood beauty. Now I know I'd only scratched the surface. 


I thought I knew what was important in life. I now find that what I thought was important, was just the beginning. 


I thought I knew a lot about God. In truth, I'd limited him by putting him in a box that fit what I thought he should be. 


I thought I knew a lot of things. At the end of the day, I've found there's more to learn about everything than I will ever be able to take in. I'll never know or understand all the secrets of the universe, and I can't probe the thoughts of God.


I'll never fully understand God and all his reasons. But even more, I'll never learn all there is to know about his love, his mercy, his unfailing faithfulness. I've learned that mercy has to do with more than confession (which is, of course, a wonderful gift) - it has to do with God never giving up on us, even when we try to give up on him.


I've learned that I know nothing about the love of God, because that love is so deep, so wide, so vast, it is unfathomable. He keeps loving us, even when we leave him for love of the world. He loves us, even when we fail to love him by hurting those around us.


And that faithfulness... that faithfulness of Christ crucified that continues to remind me of the price of redemption - the very life of God. At the end of it all, he remains faithful even unto death, even if I choose to reject his mercy and his love. 


The faithfulness of Christ continues to remind me that Easter is more than a day, more than a season in the liturgical year. It is a way of life - an embracing of everything it encompasses - both in its joy, and in the knowledge that to receive that joy completely, I have to follow Christ through his Passion. It's a way of acknowledging, that before God, I know nothing, understand nothing, because that sacrifice of love and that faithfulness are so far beyond anything I can conceive of. 


Life - truth - faith - beauty - God - unbounded, unboxed, unlimited. May we always find that we know less and less as we go. 


+peace, and all good.