the wonderful Cross

I spend a lot of time thinking.  I like thinking.  I even listen to Catholic radio on my way into work because they usually have really thought provoking discussions about faith and modern society.  (It’s especially thought provoking when I don’t think I agree with the radio host)

I like to think about some of the craziest things and then, having thought about it, end up dismissing it as irrelevant to living a life of faith.  Questions like “In what order did the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit come into being?”  or “to what degree are the elements of the trinity the same and different and does it impact their unity of activity?”

fool for Christ

The question at the end of the day however, is not about Jesus’ or the Father’s or even the Spirit’s love for us – but our love for them.

When I was in High School I was in a toxic relationship with this one girl.  Now when I say toxic, I mean like radioactive asbestos.  Everyone and their mother knew I was in this relationship and everyone knew that it was a dysfunctional and toxic one.  And to be fair, I contributed as much to the mess of that relationship as she did.

living in grace

I’m reading Herman Melville’s great classic Moby Dick, or The Whale, (Don’t ask me WHY I’m reading it I haven’t the slightest idea) and I got through the first chapter before I had to stop.  I had to stop, put the book down and walk away for a few minutes while I let what was being said seep into my soul.  Not because Melville has written a great piece that can stand as an allegory for Christian living, but rather he has written a piece that has hidden within the very wordy and lengthy sentences, a masterpiece not unlike CS Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters.  Melville shows us, probably without even meaning to, the great horror that is American Christianity:

Living in the Law when we profess Grace.

Finding Simplicity

I remember once that I was talking with a young woman about tea.  She was very particular about her tea, it had to be a specific brand of black tea with a specific brand of honey.  To make it, she would pour boiling water over the tea bag into a mug and let it steep for exactly 4 minutes and 30 seconds at which point she would wring the bag out and add precisely 2 teaspoons of honey.  After watching her do this one day I say “clearly you are a woman who loves her comforts.”  She looked at me and my mug of plain green tea with nothing added and said “and clearly you are a very simple person.”

Now she didn’t mean it in any kind of demeaning way, only that I was not a difficult person to understand.

today i mourn

Whenever someone dies, well meaning Christians seem to come out of the woodwork to try and comfort those who are left behind.  This is a good thing.  When someone is hurt and broken and weary in their soul I would hope that Christians would show up to comfort the afflicted.

Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.

Today, I remember the day that Jesus died.  I wasn’t there but I wish I had been.  I wish I could have been there to comfort Him in his pain and suffering even if there wasn’t anything I could actually have done.  I wish I had been there to thank Him for everything He had done until that point.  Would it have made a difference at all?  No not in the least.  Can I thank Him for what He’s done in my present circumstance? Of course I can.