“Be still, then, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth. Psalm 46:11
“Before you speak of peace, you must first have it in your heart.” —St. Francis of Assisi
Richard Rohr spoke of imagining myself sitting on the shore of a river with boats floating past, boats piled high with thoughts and feelings. And while acknowledging them with a nod, yes, this is indeed one of my thoughts, I allow them to continue to float on down the river without jumping on the boat. Just let it float away. This is a practice in un-possessing, detaching, letting go. With every idea, with every image that comes into your head, say, “No, I’m not that; I don’t need that; that’s not me.”
As I walked down to the Benedictine Monastery this morning to spend some time remembering my crucified Savior, the one who chose to become what you fear: nakedness, exposure, vulnerability, and failure. . . . He became the crucified so we would stop crucifying, another image came into my heart, that of a rolling sea.
Waves are indeed real. And they have force and strength, but if I don’t fight them, if I duck down under them, they dissipate into a quiet soothing surf. And a peace surged through me. A profound peace, perhaps that same profound humility that I have been asking for.
It’s not about me.
It’s the we, the beloved sheep stumbling through life.
The ones He came to seek.
Jesus became the sinned-against one to reveal the hidden nature of scapegoating. Jesus says from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing.”
I sure don't know what I am doing.
But at the end of it all, He will be exalted.
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases. His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning. New every morning.
Great is His faithfulness.