A Quiet View

Sometimes it's wise to step back from the noise and ponder quietly a peaceful scene. Here are a few to soothe your soul.

Who is Just?

From all their distress, the Lord rescues the just.

Over the past couple of years, my thoughts on “justice” and “the just” have been shaken. Life is like that sometimes, teasing us with absolutes only to remind with cold, hard intensity that humans are human, and humans are flawed. 

So as I read today’s response, something in my gut tightens a bit. Who is this just that God will rescue? One thing I have come to believe, it is not for me to claim righteousness. And frankly, I’ve become quite leery of those who profess their own. Justice is not spoken from a pulpit or pounded from a podium. It is not elected, ordained, or professed.

Justice is quiet. It falls in the tears of those who weep while comforting a friend. It is wiped from the brow of those who feed and clothe the weary and lost. The just are young and old, men and women. They do not seek reward or feel compelled to have their labors recognized or their merits counted.

A thought to leave you with as you contemplate justice and righteousness this Lenten season. . .

From Corrie Ten Boom, a Dutch woman who was imprisoned in a concentration camp at the height of Nazi power, come some powerful words for anyone who has contemplated whether or not they were worthy enough for God’s call.

Jesus called, “Come.” He didn’t say it softly, so that only the people close to Him could hear it. He said it loudly so that they all could hear it, and He is saying it to you too, through the radio, “Come.” 

“Oh,” you may say, “that could be something for others, for my respectable neighbor, who goes to church so regularly and is so decent, but it’s not for me, because I am too sinful. No, I wouldn’t dare to. Oh, no, becoming religious is not for me; I am much too bad for that.” Look, if you say that now, Jesus is precisely what is needed. 

There was only one sort of person whom the Lord Jesus did not accept when He said, “Come.” They are the ones who said to Him, “Yes, here I am, Jesus, and I’m very good and very virtuous.” Some of them were called Pharisees. To them the Lord Jesus said, “Are you very virtuous? Then I am sorry, but I can’t help you.” 

If such a Pharisee were to say, “In other people’s eyes I am virtuous, but there is sin in my heart,” then the Lord Jesus would say, “Then come to me, I’m going to help you.” If you now say, “I am too bad to come to Jesus,” then you are exactly the person he wants to help and is able to help. So just come!       

~Corrie Ten Boom  I Stand at the Door and Knock

From all their distress, the Lord rescues the just.

Reading Spiritually

Your words, Lord, are spirit and life.

I love the written word. A perfectly crafted phrase can evoke laughter, tears, anger, and heartbreak. Throughout history, writing has sparked debate, started wars, ended feuds, mended fences, built bridges, united hearts, and quieted children. Words open our minds and hearts to the truth of who we are and the possibility of whom we might become.

This is especially true when we read the Word of God. Lent is a great opportunity to explore the Bible. Try reading a Psalm a day, or dig into an unfamiliar book of the Old Testament. Don’t feel overwhelmed. Just read a few verses and sit with them awhile. You don’t need to explain them to anyone. This is just between you and God.

Henry Nouwen explains,

Spiritual reading is a discipline to keep us reflecting on our lives as we live them . . . We have to keep asking ourselves: ‘What does it all mean? What is God trying to tell us? How are we called to live in the midst of all this?’ Without such questions our lives become numb and flat.

One other note on reading during Lent…look for God’s word everywhere. He speaks through each of us. It’s just a matter of whether you are able to hear.

A bit more wisdom from Nouwen on this idea

Spiritual reading is not only reading about spiritual people or spiritual things. It is also reading spiritually, that is, in a spiritual way! Reading in a spiritual way is reading with a desire to let God come closer to us.
The great value of spiritual reading is that it helps us to give meaning to our lives…The human person not only wants to live, but also wants to know why to live. 

 ~Henri Nouwen, Here and Now: Living in the Spirit

Be inspired by words.

Your words, Lord are spirit and life.

Turning to God

A heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

How many times have I been less than sincere when making amends for my wrongs or somewhat flip in the way I ask forgiveness? Certainly there are times I can recall going through the prescribed "motions" to just get beyond an argument or debate. Admit defeat, say I am wrong, and move on. Anything to avoid prolonging an uncomfortable situation.

But Psalm 51:19 reads,

"My sacrifice, God, is a broken spirit;
God, do not spurn a broken, humbled heart."

Phoning it in is not enough.

While man despises what is broken, God does not. God is not surprised by our weakness. From Him, we have nothing to hide. How can you open yourself to God this Lent? Have you built walls of insincerity, pretending to be what you are not? Are there problem areas in your life that you have avoided? How might your life be different if you turned these over to God?

A heart contrite and humbled, O God, you will not spurn.

The Courage to Hope

Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

 

   “Mig, for her part, continued to stare. Looking at the royal family had awakened some deep and slumbering need in her; it was as if a small candle had been lit in her interior, sparked to life by the brilliance of the king and the queen and the princess.
   For the first time in her life, reader, Mig hoped.
   And hope is like love . . . a ridiculous, wonderful, powerful thing.”

Indeed hope is one of the enduring virtues, the perfect gift for us on earth. In times of trial, the mere idea of hope has carried the underdog to victory against insurmountable odds. Through life-threatening illness, hope has lifted the spirits and healed the cells of patients given up to lost cause. Hope is a champion of the tragic and a companion for the depressed. It is the light in the tunnel toward which the dying soul travels and the magnetic pull by which the revived escape back to the living.

Hope is both a noun and a verb, active and passive. It is immeasurably private yet communal by nature. Unique to each heart that swells with it, hope is defined by every person who dares to imagine it.

            “Reader, do you think that it is a terrible thing to hope when there is no reason to hope at all? Or is it (as the soldier said about happiness) something that you might just as well do, since, in the end, it really makes no difference to anyone but you?”
                                                ~excerpts from The Tale of Despereux by Kate DiCamillo

Have courage.  Never give up hope, reader. The Lord will provide, and you will be blessed.

Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

The First Step

Be merciful, O Lord for we have sinned.

It’s humbling to ask forgiveness. When sincere, you come to that moment only through a heart broken over the pain you have caused another. From that deep place, you truly acknowledge your sin but also come to know God’s love and the many sweet graces that await you.

On Ash Wednesday, we begin an unfolding. This is not always an easy process. In doing so, we expose the hardened places in our hearts along with those that are tender.

Today is the first step.

In a quiet moment, ask for God’s mercy.

There is nothing for which you cannot be forgiven.

Trust that He will comfort your sorrow and tend to your needs.

The first step is yours . . . He is waiting.

Be merciful, O Lord for we have sinned. 

**A Note

When I was a kid, the Responsorial Psalm at Mass always felt like a kind of time out. It was the nice singing part between the readings and before the Gospel and homily. I must admit, in the years since, I've focused on writing reflections for the Gospels and done research to explain historical and archaeological details of both Old and New Testament readings. Yet I still seem to overlook the poetic beauty of the Psalms. For this reason, the inspiration for some of the blogs this Lent will come from the response to the daily Psalm in the Lectionary.

Letting Go of Your Nets

Last Sunday's Gospel ended with the calling of the first disciples. Dropping their nets, Simon (soon to be Peter), James, and John made the choice to start a new life with Christ.

When they brought their boats to the shore
they left everything and followed him. ~ Lk. 5: 11

Many times I've heard this passage associated with the message of sacrifice. How difficult a decision to leave behind one's entire life and all its trappings to follow a simple man who preached an uncommon message. This story does invite us to face our attachments and question the priorities we place upon them. However, what if we consider this scene in a different light?

What if this were not a story of sacrifice, but of freedom? Consider for a moment the life of a fisherman. It is a physically demanding work over which one has very little control. There is no certainty to the size or timing of the catch. In ancient times, the most popular method of fishing was by net. Daily these nets required tending to insure they did not tear. When not on the water, the fishermen spent endless hours meticulously mending and knotting together sections strained by the burden of the catch. The nets became an extension of themselves, holding their hopes, dreams, worries, and burdens while heavily weighted and worn by the unpredictable waters of life. Now imagine those fishermen after their encounter with Jesus. His impact on their hearts was so intense that they were able to let go of those nets and all that was carried inside them. Talk about freedom!

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Instead of looking toward this season as one of only sacrifice, think about how it might be an invitation to freedom. Like the disciples, we too are standing on the shore holding tightly to our carefully woven nets. What have we knotted into their fiber? Are they bound tightly to anger, hurt, worry, guilt, pride? How might our lives be forever changed if we had the courage to leave them behind and follow Christ?