Today I saw an old friend that I stay in touch with, but rarely see. We had planned to visit a nearby place that he found interesting and through a slight miscommunication, we ended up walking there. To tell the truth, this was totally ok with me. I had figured that would be the mode of travel. But of course, the Florida heat took its grueling toll.
Despite the challenges, maybe because of them, walking is a very healing thing for me. I enjoy the rhythms it creates, and the very connected sense of space it creates. We live in such a fast world that distance is a relative thing. How far is a kilometer? How about 2? What does it feel like when you've walked it? Uphill or down? If you don't know, then you too have a distorted sense of distance.
CS Lewis said that cars evaporate distance. It's true. We move at various paces in cars that allow us to see the world passing, but not to experience it. And we can change speed without really feeling it. On foot, the difference between moving 6 kph and 8 kph is quite noticeable. But this effect isn't just in cars. We take trains, we fly, we use the internet...all of which evaporate distance and make it hard for us to tell how far or near something truly is.
Of course, there is true walking, and approximate walking. Many people live in such a way that every day activities for most of the world are special events for them. If they want to walk, they drive to a suitable location, wearing special clothes, with all necessary accoutrements, and walk. Some may even pay to have access to private circles or little belts that let you walk without going anywhere. This is not walking. This is an approximation of walking and while it is physically healthy, it will not lead to the benefits that I describe. By stepping out the door and moving on foot we are far freer than most other modes of transit. We can stop or stay anywhere. We can eat anywhere. We can change our route at any time. And we don't have to return to a parking place.
Then there's the adventure aspect of walking. Tolkien said that stepping out on the road is a dangerous thing. If you don't keep your footing, you could be swept off to anywhere. This is so true, if you walk a lot. Even a regular daily walk has its adventure. There is no end of possibility, and things that would feel very random can occur. For example, my friend was asked by another friend to take a picture of any odd looking fire hydrants. I have no idea why. But sure enough, we found a very odd fire hydrant on a certain point that we randomly came to.
While walking we truly encounter the space around us. We feel the wind, the heat, the dampness of the air. We get dirty with the soil of the road. We become a part of the place in the sounds we leave, the exhaled breath, the drops of sweat, and the impressions of our feet and hands. And the place becomes part of us, carried away in our ears, our lungs, our eyes, our muscles.
Today in particular the heat was impressive (some might say oppressive). The experience was marked by it throughout. At first we were merely hot. Then we were wet with perspiration. Then we reprieved and found drinks. Then again, the sweating. The sun began to alter our route...to chase us away from its full gaze. And eventually, the youngest of our band could take no more, and we stopped. Of course, we had to return. But this too was part of the adventure, as our heads began to ache, and we longed for cooler surroundings. We talked of water and swimming. Our minds driven to it by the heat. It was affecting us in a very real way. We weren't going looney, but it was certainly affecting, almost dictating our experience.
By the end, we welcomed the technological advancement of air conditioning. The cool of running water. Even on this simple urban trek, our illusions were shed from us. No more did abstractions matter. There were pressing matters of hydration, rest, temperature, to contend with. And as we rested in the cool air, our muscles and skin carried the memory of the walk. A walk that will never again occur in that way, even if we walk that route a thousand times. And, true to any adventure, the experience belongs to us alone. It is part of our story. We can tell it as we like, from our own perspectives. We shared it together, and no one who was not there, no matter how similar their experiences, can truly understand what the waves of heat radiating up from the pavement felt like, or how the breeze through the trees was so welcome.
Walking is real. Walking is purifying.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Touch
People need physical touch. Strangely this is often one of the things people shun first when personality issues gain ground. Even reasonably functional people in America have a bit of a standoffishness. I have seen people from other countries who touch each other far more than Americans.
I once worked with someone from Belize who was positively clingy. I never figured out if this was simply Belizian culture, or just her nature. She didn't mean anything inappropriate by it, she just touched everyone she knew in very familiar ways. And I've seen Japanese boys, very tough, fighting boys, I might add, lay in each other's laps and hang on each other in ways that would send any American guy shivering.
Many years ago, I realized that I needed to touch and be touched. I don't remember exactly how it started, but somehow I realized I needed it. And if I needed it, I reasoned most others did as well. I was hugged often as a child. I didn't grow up in any kind of sterile environment, so in that regard, I felt pretty normal. But this was a realization of the extent to which I relied on touch for communication.
Touch does make some people uncomfortable and that is to be respected. We all communicate in different ways. Not everyone may need the same level of physical contact, but I suppose that much of our distancing is learned. We may all be healthier if we weren't so afraid of touching. I can speculate many reasons why people may not want to be touched...but rather than dwell on the things I don't well understand, I would rather focus on what I do understand.
I am quite verbal...I write this blog, so that may go without saying, but a single touch can communicate what many words can't convey. This is one of my biggest complaints with the internet-based friendship phenomenon. While many people interact effectively via electrons it is no substitute for physical proximity and physical touch. A touch can do more to convey meaning than any other medium. A touch can even convey healing...both in the Biblical sense, and in the psychological sense. I myself have been in mental/emotional distress a few times where words were no avail, but a rightly placed touch instantly silences the anguish. Children of course need ample touch to develop normally. This is well documented, but I don't believe it ends there.
Consider the healing power of pets. This is why animals are brought to convalescents, elderly, and autistic. There is a real power in the feel of life touching us, feeling us back. Something spiritual is conveyed. Even the ritual of laying on hands alludes to this.
But lest you think I am one of those "hug-a-day" mambies, let me clarify what I mean by touch. Certainly hugs are one very effective way of touching and I use them often in the right context. But this isn't the only way, and isn't appropriate in all situations. There are of course the standard pats on the back, clasping of hands in all the various forms, but becasue of their common use, these don't reach the way well-placed touches can. I mean a touch to the arm, an arm around the neck or shoulders, literally brushing shoulders can all be powerful. Then there are more passive types of touching such as when seated comfortably. So many people sit rigid even among friends.
Now I am the first to avoid unnecessary crowding in public spaces. If there are seats across the aisle, don't sit next to me, you wierdo! But among friends, do we need to apologize because our knees brushed on the squishy sofa while watching a movie? Or to go a step further, leaning across someone to get something. I know you might be shuddering at the thought of this right now, but bear with me.
Animals do not respect these boundaries. Dogs flop in your lap and knock you off balance with their brushes. Cats swirl among your legs. Rats, to which I am partial, gently press their teeth (a rat kiss) and groom with their small manipulative hands. Birds nip and taste. And primates, including human children, cling all over you. These touches in natural language indicate trust and familiarity. They assure all members of the group that they are accepted. In short they reassure our place and our safety.
I have become quite forward in my touching of people. But of course I always stay attuned to the context and their reactions. If someone is uncomfortable, you can tell instantly with a touch and that should be respected. But my experience is that people quickly loosen to it. Even among other men, there is a touching that conveys the right meanings. One of my recently departed friends who was a very large man had a habit of pulling me (as an adult mind you) onto his knee like a child. On his massive lap, I felt like a toy, but in that gentle giant's act we both knew deeper and faster than words could convey that we both trusted and accepted the other. If we are to live whole, we must be comfortable in our own skin. In doing so we must acknowledge this means of communication. For me it is vital. I can't truly demonstrate my feelings for someone without touch. Nor can I truly understand another's feeling without touch. Say a thousand words and I will hear you, but touch me and I will know your heart. If we would shut our mouths more and let go of our inhibitions in this regard, listening to the biological, animal side of our being, we would be far more at peace and at ease.
I once worked with someone from Belize who was positively clingy. I never figured out if this was simply Belizian culture, or just her nature. She didn't mean anything inappropriate by it, she just touched everyone she knew in very familiar ways. And I've seen Japanese boys, very tough, fighting boys, I might add, lay in each other's laps and hang on each other in ways that would send any American guy shivering.
Many years ago, I realized that I needed to touch and be touched. I don't remember exactly how it started, but somehow I realized I needed it. And if I needed it, I reasoned most others did as well. I was hugged often as a child. I didn't grow up in any kind of sterile environment, so in that regard, I felt pretty normal. But this was a realization of the extent to which I relied on touch for communication.
Touch does make some people uncomfortable and that is to be respected. We all communicate in different ways. Not everyone may need the same level of physical contact, but I suppose that much of our distancing is learned. We may all be healthier if we weren't so afraid of touching. I can speculate many reasons why people may not want to be touched...but rather than dwell on the things I don't well understand, I would rather focus on what I do understand.
I am quite verbal...I write this blog, so that may go without saying, but a single touch can communicate what many words can't convey. This is one of my biggest complaints with the internet-based friendship phenomenon. While many people interact effectively via electrons it is no substitute for physical proximity and physical touch. A touch can do more to convey meaning than any other medium. A touch can even convey healing...both in the Biblical sense, and in the psychological sense. I myself have been in mental/emotional distress a few times where words were no avail, but a rightly placed touch instantly silences the anguish. Children of course need ample touch to develop normally. This is well documented, but I don't believe it ends there.
Consider the healing power of pets. This is why animals are brought to convalescents, elderly, and autistic. There is a real power in the feel of life touching us, feeling us back. Something spiritual is conveyed. Even the ritual of laying on hands alludes to this.
But lest you think I am one of those "hug-a-day" mambies, let me clarify what I mean by touch. Certainly hugs are one very effective way of touching and I use them often in the right context. But this isn't the only way, and isn't appropriate in all situations. There are of course the standard pats on the back, clasping of hands in all the various forms, but becasue of their common use, these don't reach the way well-placed touches can. I mean a touch to the arm, an arm around the neck or shoulders, literally brushing shoulders can all be powerful. Then there are more passive types of touching such as when seated comfortably. So many people sit rigid even among friends.
Now I am the first to avoid unnecessary crowding in public spaces. If there are seats across the aisle, don't sit next to me, you wierdo! But among friends, do we need to apologize because our knees brushed on the squishy sofa while watching a movie? Or to go a step further, leaning across someone to get something. I know you might be shuddering at the thought of this right now, but bear with me.
Animals do not respect these boundaries. Dogs flop in your lap and knock you off balance with their brushes. Cats swirl among your legs. Rats, to which I am partial, gently press their teeth (a rat kiss) and groom with their small manipulative hands. Birds nip and taste. And primates, including human children, cling all over you. These touches in natural language indicate trust and familiarity. They assure all members of the group that they are accepted. In short they reassure our place and our safety.
I have become quite forward in my touching of people. But of course I always stay attuned to the context and their reactions. If someone is uncomfortable, you can tell instantly with a touch and that should be respected. But my experience is that people quickly loosen to it. Even among other men, there is a touching that conveys the right meanings. One of my recently departed friends who was a very large man had a habit of pulling me (as an adult mind you) onto his knee like a child. On his massive lap, I felt like a toy, but in that gentle giant's act we both knew deeper and faster than words could convey that we both trusted and accepted the other. If we are to live whole, we must be comfortable in our own skin. In doing so we must acknowledge this means of communication. For me it is vital. I can't truly demonstrate my feelings for someone without touch. Nor can I truly understand another's feeling without touch. Say a thousand words and I will hear you, but touch me and I will know your heart. If we would shut our mouths more and let go of our inhibitions in this regard, listening to the biological, animal side of our being, we would be far more at peace and at ease.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tarzan
This is strange subject for a contemplative blog, but bear with me. I think it will make sense. Tarzan is one of my favorite characters. An achetype, a hero, if you will. He has been adapted and readapted in books and movies and television, some good, some bad.
My connection to Tarzan started when I was a child, with the fact that my grandmother knew Johnny Weissmuller, the man who made the Tarzan yell famous, and the best of the classic Tarzan actors in my opinion. In fact, he taught her how to dive. She grew up in Silver Springs, Florida right during the era of his films. So of course, I was raised on every Tarzan movie imaginable. That led to TV and cartoons. And eventually to the original books.
As an aside, I think the two best adaptations of the story are the movie Greystoke, and the Disney animated Tarzan. As much as I could find fault with Disney, this movie is fantastic, adapting the story to a modern audience without making it overly kiddy and while keeping enough true to the Burroughs original...in fact Tarzan uses a lasso...one of his main tools in the books. They also did a fantastic job adapting the apes to modern understanding of gorillas.
Anyway, my fascination with Tarzan has much to do with my training as a naturalist. To me, Tarzan is the ultimate human. He lives in wildness, but also in society. His wildness, in fact is well translated into skills for society. He is altruistic and noble. He is strong and gentle. But most of all, his mind is clear. There is a clarity in wildness that only those who have experienced it can know. When extras are stripped away and the romanticism of nature is lost in the weather and bugs and fatigue, there is a crystal sublimity that we become aware of. The world appears differently. Powerful, gentle, nuturing, savage all at once. This is the world as it is. The world as close to how it was meant to be.
Now I know that statement will raise eyebrows given the Biblical references to the Garden and lions and lambs, etc. Granted...the wild world is fallen as well, hence the nasties that quickly suck the romance out of wild experience. But since men are the source of the fall, it is in the world of men that we find more corruption. The further we move from the world of men, the further we move from our own corruption.
So what would an uncorrupted (yet still fallen) man look like? Tarzan. He epitomizes what man would be in that purest context. Even apart from our own tribal society. He is man without a nurture in society. He is first wild. Thus his heart is open. He harbors no malice. He sees justice in black and white. He understands the interrelation of all things. His ideas and his actions are ever in line. There is no presupposition, and therefore no prejudice. He takes things as they come, life or death, and manipulates what he may control, knowing that he cannot control what is beyond him. He is man with the peace of animal, the fierceness of wild, the intellect of human. He is to be admired.
My connection to Tarzan started when I was a child, with the fact that my grandmother knew Johnny Weissmuller, the man who made the Tarzan yell famous, and the best of the classic Tarzan actors in my opinion. In fact, he taught her how to dive. She grew up in Silver Springs, Florida right during the era of his films. So of course, I was raised on every Tarzan movie imaginable. That led to TV and cartoons. And eventually to the original books.
As an aside, I think the two best adaptations of the story are the movie Greystoke, and the Disney animated Tarzan. As much as I could find fault with Disney, this movie is fantastic, adapting the story to a modern audience without making it overly kiddy and while keeping enough true to the Burroughs original...in fact Tarzan uses a lasso...one of his main tools in the books. They also did a fantastic job adapting the apes to modern understanding of gorillas.
Anyway, my fascination with Tarzan has much to do with my training as a naturalist. To me, Tarzan is the ultimate human. He lives in wildness, but also in society. His wildness, in fact is well translated into skills for society. He is altruistic and noble. He is strong and gentle. But most of all, his mind is clear. There is a clarity in wildness that only those who have experienced it can know. When extras are stripped away and the romanticism of nature is lost in the weather and bugs and fatigue, there is a crystal sublimity that we become aware of. The world appears differently. Powerful, gentle, nuturing, savage all at once. This is the world as it is. The world as close to how it was meant to be.
Now I know that statement will raise eyebrows given the Biblical references to the Garden and lions and lambs, etc. Granted...the wild world is fallen as well, hence the nasties that quickly suck the romance out of wild experience. But since men are the source of the fall, it is in the world of men that we find more corruption. The further we move from the world of men, the further we move from our own corruption.
So what would an uncorrupted (yet still fallen) man look like? Tarzan. He epitomizes what man would be in that purest context. Even apart from our own tribal society. He is man without a nurture in society. He is first wild. Thus his heart is open. He harbors no malice. He sees justice in black and white. He understands the interrelation of all things. His ideas and his actions are ever in line. There is no presupposition, and therefore no prejudice. He takes things as they come, life or death, and manipulates what he may control, knowing that he cannot control what is beyond him. He is man with the peace of animal, the fierceness of wild, the intellect of human. He is to be admired.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Words
Words are powerful things. They can destory and create. Wound and heal. It is no wonder magic is often associated with words. But the words themselves are just tools. The true power comes from the one wielding the words.
They say sticks and stones...but this isn't exaclty true. In fact, it really disproves itself in that the very rhyme is a sort of incantation designed to immunize us against verbal attack.
I wield words better than average. Many people have said so. I'm not sure if it is true, but I know that I have an ability to see into people and can find just the right words to cut to the heart. I have used this power of words wrongly many times. I try to keep it in check and only use it to graze the skin when someone begins to push far beyond reasonable limits in jest or in bravado.
I would much rather use it for good. To build up. I would rather practice correct speech, saying nothing except what is absolutely necessary. But this is difficult in our pop-off chattery world. I speak much folly.
They say sticks and stones...but this isn't exaclty true. In fact, it really disproves itself in that the very rhyme is a sort of incantation designed to immunize us against verbal attack.
I wield words better than average. Many people have said so. I'm not sure if it is true, but I know that I have an ability to see into people and can find just the right words to cut to the heart. I have used this power of words wrongly many times. I try to keep it in check and only use it to graze the skin when someone begins to push far beyond reasonable limits in jest or in bravado.
I would much rather use it for good. To build up. I would rather practice correct speech, saying nothing except what is absolutely necessary. But this is difficult in our pop-off chattery world. I speak much folly.
Recently, I commented something that I thought valuable in a forum where others could hear. I was responding to something a friend had said. But later that person came to me angry and using surprisingly hurtful words about my inability to perceive intent and discern the appropriate time to say things. Of course, in the context, I could tell that my friend was upset that I had, in his mind, openly ruined his point, which was to encourage another without pointing that person out (thus he had not addressed his comment to them), though that was not my intent. I wanted to respond. I wanted to defend my statement as true and valid and point out the flaws in his attempt in that context...It was far too open to misdirection...and afterall, I had a right to say what I pleased, whether he liked it or not. And as I began heating up in my mind, the invective began to flow. I found myself driving the vebal knife deeper into the gaping chinks in his self image. If I were only to open my mouth I could wound him with valid and personal observations such that the scar would take years to heal. He did not realize who he was dealing with! And I had checked my responses to similar pricks from him in the past out of respect. It was time to bring this guy down a few pegs! But I didn't.
For once in my life, I held my tongue and let the steam boil off slowly. I let the scratch he had inflicted bleed and eventually clot. I remembered a recent teaching I had heard about Abraham choosing peace when Lot owed him everything and dared to allow his men to quarrel with Abraham's. I want to choose peace. I want to bear the scratch as my own. Afterall, I'm sure somewhere in his anger there might be truth.
Having the power to vindicate myself and choosing not to...this is definitely not my nature...evidence that in some small way, I am being conformed to Christ.
Friday, July 3, 2009
A Dream
I once had a dream that Jesus came to me and took me into a room where there was a large round table. On this table, something like a holographic dome appeared in which He showed me every detail of history and how it fit together. He showed me how He had orchestrated the whole of all happenings in the universe. And He showed me how current events were all woven into the plan. I watched as the universe and human existence unfolded before me like a fantastically beautiful symphony of complex interrelations, events rippling and folding into each other. I watched as the symphony passed beyond present time and continued into the ultimate end. I saw how the world and all sufferieng and all joy played together and how it would all unfold in vivid detail.
When it ended I was awed and honored at being shown and understood that even though I couldn't see how things played together from within my life, I now knew specifically how it would go and that it would all be well...better than well actually.
Then Jesus touched my mouth and said that He would erase the details from my mind because it was not for men to know.
When I awoke, I had no memory of the dream at all. I dressed and left for work. On the drive I was listening to the radio when...I know the exact spot it happened...something in a song, just a snatch of it, reminded me of the dream and the whole memory I just described flooded back, minus the details I had been shown. I remember the dream vividly, and I remember the clarity and sense everything made, but I can't in the least remember what specifically I was shown.
So, I know that history is not random. I know that the future is orchestrated and that the universe and our entire existence form a wonderfully beautiful work of art. Best of all, I know it will all end well...This is an unbelievable grace to someone like me who has so much trouble seeing the good in so much bad. And I know that I would not be able to fulfill my portion of that symphony if I knew all the details. So that too is a mercy.
When it ended I was awed and honored at being shown and understood that even though I couldn't see how things played together from within my life, I now knew specifically how it would go and that it would all be well...better than well actually.
Then Jesus touched my mouth and said that He would erase the details from my mind because it was not for men to know.
When I awoke, I had no memory of the dream at all. I dressed and left for work. On the drive I was listening to the radio when...I know the exact spot it happened...something in a song, just a snatch of it, reminded me of the dream and the whole memory I just described flooded back, minus the details I had been shown. I remember the dream vividly, and I remember the clarity and sense everything made, but I can't in the least remember what specifically I was shown.
So, I know that history is not random. I know that the future is orchestrated and that the universe and our entire existence form a wonderfully beautiful work of art. Best of all, I know it will all end well...This is an unbelievable grace to someone like me who has so much trouble seeing the good in so much bad. And I know that I would not be able to fulfill my portion of that symphony if I knew all the details. So that too is a mercy.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Suffering
Suffering is a difficult concept. We all know that it does not feel good to suffer. Bad things are part of life, but who wants them? Various traditions deal with it in different ways. In my tradition, it is taught that since God is in total control and is totally good, suffering of those who love God is a matter of growth. In this light it can even be a blessing to suffer. The martyrs and ascetics positively gloried in it. I can understand this, but I must qualify that it is only so in the context of those who love God. How deeply this holds true, I can't say. While in my naivety I once thought that ultimate suffering was good and that I could handle it, I have long since left the plain of the hard-minded. There is definitely a suffering that is just evil. Suffering that I would not wish on anyone, no matter what. Rape and beating of children are easy examples. But there are many other sufferings that we would not wish on people.
So I find myself in a tension...strung between two wires. The one understanding that God can allow suffering to purify and to draw us to his love. The other hating the suffering caused by evil and wanting to alleviate it at all costs.
But I guess it is in that tension that there is the most truth. To suffer in peace and understand that God will work His good in spite of and through it while seeking to lighten the load and resolve suffering and injustice. How we talk about it should depend on the understanding of who we are talking to. I see this in Jesus' life and words. Tender to the hurting, angry toward those who inflict it, and humbly submissive toward God who led Him through it.
So I find myself in a tension...strung between two wires. The one understanding that God can allow suffering to purify and to draw us to his love. The other hating the suffering caused by evil and wanting to alleviate it at all costs.
But I guess it is in that tension that there is the most truth. To suffer in peace and understand that God will work His good in spite of and through it while seeking to lighten the load and resolve suffering and injustice. How we talk about it should depend on the understanding of who we are talking to. I see this in Jesus' life and words. Tender to the hurting, angry toward those who inflict it, and humbly submissive toward God who led Him through it.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Beholding Galadriel
Sometimes the greatest revelations are so utterly simple most people don't get it. Not that they are that dense, just that the significance is lost on them because words fail to reveal the depth of the revelation.
I have been trying for the past few weeks to practice the Presence. It's nothing new. I've done it before, but somewhere along the way...I think it was a conscious choice, I am sad to say...I quit. And then it was slowly forgotten. Not that I really forgot all about it, but the importance and the value of this simple lifestyle faded.
I can't say that I've been doing very well at it. In fact, I've been doing quite miserably...but then that might be the first step. It certainly seems to often be a prerequisite for moving closer to God...that is becoming aware of just how miserable we are. As my good friend once said, we are blind, deaf, dumb, naked, and stupid. Yet somewhere apart from our own insatiable ability to mess things up, we are valued. We are loved. And frankly, I don't get it. But I do catch snatches of it on the air...glimpses in odd fleeting moments. Whispers from the mouth of God that I am truly loved. And though I don't understand why, I do understand how because I exhibit the same feelings toward others, family, friends, coworkers, and even the odd stranger that I just see so differently than they appear.
Just this Sunday I was sitting next to a very shy, unassuming, yet sincere and intelligent girl at church. I know her, but she isn't one to attract attention, intentionally or by her nature. When I asked God who I should pray for that service, as I try to do every service at Richard Foster's recommendation, I was instantly drawn to her and I suddenly saw her in a whole new light. She was so beautiful that my eyes teared up (again no surprise for me, I am easily overwhelmed). It wasn't a general awareness, but a totally different aspect, almost like a memory of who she really was...and she was stunning in the true sense of the word. So there I was next to this gloriously beautiful Elfen princess with her power radiating about and I was humbled.
I know that I was given the moment to see her as God sees her...as she really is...at least as much as my base mortal mind can contain. And there was joy. A crying heart-breaking joy. Joy that I was gifted with the moment. Joy that I know I must be so much more than I perceive as well. Joy from understanding that reality is more than we see and feel.
I have been trying for the past few weeks to practice the Presence. It's nothing new. I've done it before, but somewhere along the way...I think it was a conscious choice, I am sad to say...I quit. And then it was slowly forgotten. Not that I really forgot all about it, but the importance and the value of this simple lifestyle faded.
I can't say that I've been doing very well at it. In fact, I've been doing quite miserably...but then that might be the first step. It certainly seems to often be a prerequisite for moving closer to God...that is becoming aware of just how miserable we are. As my good friend once said, we are blind, deaf, dumb, naked, and stupid. Yet somewhere apart from our own insatiable ability to mess things up, we are valued. We are loved. And frankly, I don't get it. But I do catch snatches of it on the air...glimpses in odd fleeting moments. Whispers from the mouth of God that I am truly loved. And though I don't understand why, I do understand how because I exhibit the same feelings toward others, family, friends, coworkers, and even the odd stranger that I just see so differently than they appear.
Just this Sunday I was sitting next to a very shy, unassuming, yet sincere and intelligent girl at church. I know her, but she isn't one to attract attention, intentionally or by her nature. When I asked God who I should pray for that service, as I try to do every service at Richard Foster's recommendation, I was instantly drawn to her and I suddenly saw her in a whole new light. She was so beautiful that my eyes teared up (again no surprise for me, I am easily overwhelmed). It wasn't a general awareness, but a totally different aspect, almost like a memory of who she really was...and she was stunning in the true sense of the word. So there I was next to this gloriously beautiful Elfen princess with her power radiating about and I was humbled.
I know that I was given the moment to see her as God sees her...as she really is...at least as much as my base mortal mind can contain. And there was joy. A crying heart-breaking joy. Joy that I was gifted with the moment. Joy that I know I must be so much more than I perceive as well. Joy from understanding that reality is more than we see and feel.
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