Saturday, November 14, 2015

And I just happen to be reading another book about the burning of Paris, All the Light We Cannot See.

November 13, 2015

Hallelujah! Give thanks to the LORD for He is good, for His mercy endures for ever. Psalm 106:1

I woke up in a Slough yet again this morning. So I read Chapter 4 of 1000 Gifts and added to my eucharisteo list after that. Then clicked to the fixed prayers list and gave thanks for each and every one. And His Spirit reminded me of His goodness. May I see His mercy for ever.

To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul; my God, I put my trust in you; let me not be humiliated, nor let my enemies triumph over me. Let none who look to you be put to shame. Psalm 25:1-2

And people are not my enemies. The Accuser and his lies and his cohorts are the enemy. May they not triumph over me.

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. Ephesians 6:12

November 14, 2015

Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Psalm 85:10

Jesus taught us, saying: “Be compassionate just as your Father is compassionate. Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and there will be gifts for you: a full measure, pressed down, shaken together, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap; because the standard you use will be the standard used for you.” Luke 6:36-38

And when it is very dark, light shines ever so clearly. And as bombs explode and lives are razed and goodwill is smashed to the ground and trampled, what is true and from the heart of our Father who is compassionate rises up, is lifted up, in a flame of hope and restoration.

And every day each of us light bearers heads out into a world darkened by lies and brokenness and pain and loss and anger and fear. Let us not hide it under a bushel basket. Let me not crouch under a bushel basket that blocks my vision from anything but me and mine, just keeping my head low and looking down and kind of cramped and pretty grumpy.

A bushel basket, no.

Rather let me fix my eyes on Him, who sent not His only beloved Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world, through Him, might be saved. And to follow His gaze outward to the harvest, stretching out to every horizon, to the people who are harassed and helpless.

Matthew 9 is full of Pharisees, Accusing and judging and questioning and name-calling and labeling.

And He? Jesus answered their questions with word and deed. He went through all the towns and villages, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, He had compassion on them.

And each dusk I return bone-ground weary. Outwardly bedraggled and inwardly squeezed and twisted like an old cleaning rag. It is getting darker earlier now. And I have to turn on my blinking red and white lights to ride home.  And I have to watch out for distracted drivers and deep fissures in the asphalt. But at least the breeze and arching sky sort of brushes off some of the soul dust from the day.

And if He, innocent and only good, pleads for mercy for the stone-throwers, who am I to do less?

And so once again in the morning, while it is still dark, I seek sustenance. Today’s manna. What is it?

Give me today my daily bread. Mercy anew. And perhaps part of the Cry of the Church, “Lord have mercy on us” is a plea for His mercy on us, His mercy to pour down over my soul like a healing balm.

New every morning. Great is Thy faithfulness, O God.