Those tangled up in the thorns of life.

Jesus taught us, saying: ‘Which one of you with a hundred sheep, if he lost one, would fail to leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after the missing one till he found it? And when he found it, would he not joyfully take it on his shoulders and then, when he got home, call together his friends and neighbors saying to them, “Rejoice with me, I have found my sheep that was lost.” In the same way, I tell you, there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner repenting than over ninety-nine upright people who have no need of repentance.’ Luke 15:4–7

Both Francis and Clare of Assisi lost and let go of all fear of suffering; all need for power, prestige, and possessions; any need for their small self to be important; and they came out the other side knowing something essential—who they really were in God and thus who they really were. Their house was then built on “bedrock,” as Jesus says (Matthew 7:24).

The cross was Jesus’ voluntary acceptance of undeserved pain as an act of total solidarity with all of the pain of the world. Reflection on this mystery of love can change your whole life. –Richard Rohr

Yesterday, like I do almost every day, I made my way to Mary Anne’s prayer room to chat over the day. And for some reason I noticed the painting on the

wall. I don’t know whether it is new or not or where it came from, but it gripped me so much I couldn’t even really concentrate on our conversation. And her painting has much more blue stormy wind and rain tones that this sort of glorious golden hue, but it is the same general idea, The Good Shepherd stopping at nothing to seek and save the one who is lost.

Letting go.

Leaving it all.

Not to do His will, but the will of Him who sent Him.

For the joy set before Him.

And when the grumbling and disputing thoughts enter my head, I have been turning to the St. Francis prayer, Most highest, glorious God Cast Your light into the darkness of my heart Give me right faith, firm hope, perfect charity, and profound humility With wisdom and perception O Lord, so that I may do what is truly Your holy will.

And I know what His perfect will is, every time: not to condemn the world, but to be part of the restoration, the seeking and the saving.

Today’s liturgical refrain echoed this again and again: It is not the healthy who need the doctor, but the sick . . . And indeed I did not come to call the virtuous, but sinners.

Last night we celebrated the three-day weekend with popcorn and the 1982 Jane Seymour and Ian McKellen version of The Scarlet Pimpernel on the living room wall. And yeah, it was the made-for-television version with lots of odd pauses, especially towards the end, for commercial breaks.

But it has also lots of vivid images of seeking and saving. And it’s not that the French aristocrats were so noble and innocent, but it was because they were lost, totally lost in the fetid prison of the world, spinning out its crazy brokenness and injustice.

For the joy set before Him.

Reflection on this mystery of love can change your whole life.

Overwhelmed.

. . . the love of Christ overwhelms us when we consider that if one man died for all, then all have died; his purpose in dying for all humanity was that those who live should live not any more for themselves, but for him who died and was raised to life for them. From now onwards, then, we do not consider anyone by human standards: even if we were once familiar with Christ according to human standards, we do not know him in that way any longer. So for anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation; the old order is gone and a new being is there to see. It is all God’s work, he reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. I mean, God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, not holding anyone’s faults against them, but entrusted to us the message of reconciliation. 2 Corinthians 5:14–19

Dear LORD God, overwhelm me with Your love. Let me live in the place of joy and thanksgiving that You do not hold my faults against me, but have entrusted to me the message of reconciliation.

Almighty God, You have surrounded me with a great cloud of witnesses: Grant that I, encouraged by the good example of Your servants, may persevere in running the race that is set before me, until at last I may attain to Your eternal joy; through Jesus Christ, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Snotty-nosed Babies

O Lord, you have taught us that without love whatever we do is worth nothing: Send your Holy Spirit and pour into my heart your greatest gift, which is love, the true bond of peace and of all virtue, without which whoever lives is accounted dead before you. Grant this for the sake of your only Son Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. 

Things that I believe:

Not one of us earns love.  Each and every one of us is a mess of twisted, inconsistent, selfish, whitewashed, complicated, shortsighted mundanity.

Yet.  For God so loved the world He sent His only beloved Son to die for us while we were yet sinners.  

And yet each and every one of us is so very lovable.  Why is it the uncomplicated and most vulnerable that touch the profound part of our heart?  That does not fit at all with evolutionary survival.  The wife linking arms with the trembling victim of Alzheimer’s.  Curious round eyes of Indian orphans who look for tomorrow.  Poopy, snotty, screaming babies.  Facebook is filled with posted shots of big eyes and parted lips with just a hint of drool. 

 Maybe all the pretense has been stripped away.  Love me because of who you are, and not because of who I am or what I have done.  Love me because of who I am becoming, through the tireless and endless work of the Good Shepherd.  Maybe because that is when we get the clearest glimpse of Abba Father.  Of glory.

For the joy set before Him, Christ endured the cross.  He understood the work in progress and the end of the story.  And that was enough.  

Sure there were teeth-grinding moments of frustration as His disciples bickered about where they were going to sit or who was allowed to touch Him, but still He set His face toward Jerusalem.  Not because He was a nice guy, not because He was a stoic, not because He was enabling, but for the joy set before Him.  

Because He knew what’s what, what makes for peace and joy, He could walk free in the Truth.  He could answer the systems of the world that explicate with big fancy research words what we are owed and how things might appear, taking into account statistical probability.  He lifts a hand to the whisperings of the Liar whose bottom line is our utter unhappy alienation as he twists our thoughts like silk strands in his adept Surely-He-doesn’t-really-mean-that?  And He is not bound, bound by lusts and insecurities and selfishness.  He is not a slave; He is the Son.  And we are His brothers and sisters.  See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!  And how do we know we are truly His children?  By His love that lives through us.

Perhaps I am wrong-headed in this.  To me, the act of love is even more awe-inspiring than that of lifting of my hands in worship.  Even the trees of the field and the rocks by the road worship Him.  But the act of love is Him united with me, pulsing through my flesh and soul.  The tangible, not-of-this-world insistence that there is something outside of the neurons that link our sensations into thought.  Something from outside the box who claims I AM.

And the ying and yang of this Love is the freedom of forgiveness.  Gently He reminds me, “I died for that sin.  And for that one.  And even that one.”  Let go.  Done and gone.  Little by little I am understanding the swelling delight and celebration of release. The judge not lest you be judged.  Forgive and you shall be forgiven.  The be merciful even as you receive mercy. The seventy times seven.  Unforgiveness only chokes me.  Locks me behind the bars of hopelessness and things will never change.   The ironic horror of the servant who could not release his fellow servant.  Really?  None of us deserve nothing.  

And I will make this choice. Over and over.  The context of the mustard seed-sized faith was this: how can I possibly forgive my brother?  Help my unbelief, oh LORD.  Cast the mulberry tree into sea.  The mulberry tree of unforgiveness.  

And really, if none of this is true, (Strum, strum, the Witch’s fingers plucked the strings) I like Puddleglum would prefer to live in this world of hope and dreams and bright skies.  “One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one more thing to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say.”

That is what I believe.