The coolest Saint

I just started reading Ignatius in the haircutting place, and it was really and truly amazing. I love this guy. And aside from the bishop and presbyter thing (I agree with Michelle I think ;) he really speaks to issues that I think our group talks about and lives out also. I'm only through the first two, but I think that they are really amazing. I love him almost as much as Lewis...and that's a lot.

count the people

HART and Baroness Cox

Well, I have a brochure from Baroness Cox, and I'll scan it in and post it eventually, but for now, I'll just post HART's website, which has almost as much info. www.hart-uk.org

Your brother in Christ,
Cody

When it thunders...

These are the reflections of a child of our Papa in Heaven. As I walked to my room today after session and dinner, I felt a heaviness and darkness closing in upon my heart. So when I got to my room, instead of trying to get work done while walking in a cloud, I turned of the lights and lay on my bed, pouring out my heart to God. As I lay there for about half an hour, my heart began to calm down and though I did not hear his voice, I heard his silence. After a while I turned on some music by Jason Upton and continued praying to my loving Father. As I continued lying there, I began to reflect on a song called "When it thunders" and these are my thoughts.

The words of the chorus go like this:

Daddy, don't sleep,
Daddy, don't slumber,
I don't wonder when it thunders
Because I am safe in Daddy's arms.

I once heard the reasons why he wrote this song, but here are what these words mean to me tonight.

Our Daddy does neither sleep, nor slumber, there is no time, when he does not watch over me. And though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for I am safe in Daddy's arms. As the darkness closes in around me and fog and clouds surround my heart, his loving arms are still wrapped around me. Nothing can rob me from the palm of my Papa. SO while I listening to the silence and peace that began impressing itself on my heart, I decided to share this with you.

while I am reading these words, I listen to another song, one by Matt Redman, called the "Father's song", let the lyrics of this most beautiful song bless your heart as they bless mine in this very moment.

I have heard so many songs
Listened to a thousand tongues
But there is one that sounds above them all
the Father's song, the Father's love
You sung it over me
And for eternity it's written on my heart.

Heaven's perfect melody
The Creator's symphony
You are singing over me
The Father's song
Heaven's perfect mystery
The King of Love has sent for me
And now you are singing over me
The Father's song.

Though today I only heard silence, but I know that he is singing this song over me and if I am really quiet I can hear it.

May my Papa bless those I love, all you of Ignatius.

Agh! Sing Muse...just a little softer

At it again.
Exasperation is too long of a word for this early hour.
I would realize later in the day that it fit as a second skin.
As far as I can see, there are three types of people in this world; well, concering the weighty topic of early morning conduct.
That first class of individuals could reasonably be considered flora at that first searing kiss of sunlight, as their rational capacities seem to operate on, shall we say, low heat.
In the second group we find those who treat the hour with a sort of solemnity, as a rendevous for those thoughts to gather and gear themselves for the long march through the day.
Then there's the rabble. If the race of mankind could truly emit a sort of electronic static, a cacophonous snow to wound the fragile ears of dawn, then I believe this caste has made the most headway in doing so.
I sigh, and glance once more at the magpies perched on two desks a distance away to my left.
CHIRP! CHIRP!
Correct that; very near to my left.
When I am not indulging the temptations of my peripheral vision, I happen to catch the sideways glares of many other morning monks of the Noble Second Order described above.
I think that if the scattered glances were to coincide into a collective deluge of attention, the magpies might just cease their stinging songs.
Telepathy is very appealing sometimes.
Coordination is key!
CHIRP! CHIRP!
I sip my coffee slowly.
The clock is still asleep.

Musing....hey, it's what I do.

Hey ya'll. I am not usually comfortable with posting my writing, but I thought maybe you could give me some feedback.

Reflections On Old Paintings

One and Two asked of Three when he,

The fourth began to listen.

‘Twas not of lacking ear, said Three

So slightly reminiscent.

‘Twas not a fault of missing piece

Nor shallow inspiration.

The haunt that brought him to his knees:

A sway from One’s vocation.

‘Twas in that horrid instant that

The heart of four went reeling,

And felt with a choke

The hideous yoke

Of a soul without rhyme or feeling.

But moments play not with the infinite

And four as a new invention,

Began to take in

The harmonious din

Of the singing One’s redemption.

One and Two said of four when Three,

The tale having finished,

His stage for human tragedy

Was framed with ears diminished.

We are in the hands and heart of a Loving God

I wanted to post this both to share with you and to praise God for his love.

Please forgive my spelling...

So, Today. It was a good day. Good. I prayed, read my bible, Jesus loves me. Good day. Yet, due to my recent revisiting of the fact that I am a fallen and sinful man that FAILS to really run the race with all I have. I got to feeling 'down'. It wasn't the kind of 'down' that seeps out in your behavior, but a feeling that kept bringing the phrase "failing life" to my mind. This feeling had been tickling my heart every once and a while, but nothing that affected me. Maybe I'm just naturally moody, but it seemed to get stronger over the course of the day as I realized mistakes I've made, and trying to balance realizing that with the knowledge that if I did fully think on that, nothing would ever make me happy again. (Emotion enlarged to show texture...but still the same.) Well, after spending near three hours in a class watching silent films (the first one was about the 'glories' of the kkk and the part of the old south that that belived that....er...: I'm for the South when it comes to the Civil war but do not agree with slavery and deffinitley not the KKK...so I spent two hours trying to settle my soul between the two extremes of "That's innacurate" and "Gosh, that's horrible." ) and that left me with a deep sense of pointlessness...I COULD have been accomplishing something. I after whining to Sydney about how pointless it was and taking the long walk up to sigma, I lumbered towards my room with a progressively heavier heart. For some reason, now I felt like I failure. I needed some company, someone to cheer me up. I really wanted someone I could spill out my black guts to... but then again, I didn't feel like digging deeper into this feeling..but maybe it would pass. I'll settle for being cheered up I guess. The door's locked. Get out my key...keep digging....turn the lock -- ugh -- the other way. As I walked into the room I braced myself for the funny set of barbs that my wonderful roomate and I tend to exchange, instead I was met with an empty room. Almost frantically in search of company I ran through the bathroom to see if anyone was next door that I could talk to. Empty. Empty? As my heart dropped to my toes and dispair flooded up, I realized that I now felt very alone. On a college campus filled with my best friends I was a failure, and all alone. I NEEDED to talk to someone. But I was alone. I felt this need a little more and realized that I wanted more than to talk. I wanted someone with whom I could commune with perfectly. Someone who's heart could connect with mine on a level greater than ever before. But there was no one. No one. I was a failure and there was no one.

In the blink of an eye, I realized (by divine intervention) that GOD was there. I loaughed out loud. Really. In my empty room, I laughed because of the joy this realization filled my heart with. God was there for me. Perfect communion through the blood of Christ. He was there for me. In my distress, God made him self known to my black little heart and that made me happier than I have been in a long time. I kept laughing. How could I have not realized? How stupid. I don't know but I get the feeling that God laughed too, as he held out His scared hands to me. Laughing with the stupid little child that had to be saved from himself. He was there waiting for me the whole time. There is NO GREATER JOY than that wich is found in God's love. None.

I havn't been given any aswers. And every few minutes my chest feels hollow as I remember my failure. But then, just a quickly I'm reminded that He is there, waiting with his Heart open. Making himself vulnerable because of His Love for me. There is no happier thing. Why should our hearts not dance?

Praise good for his Goodness.

~an exultant Greg

Broken into Wholeness

*Deep breath*

Yesterday. Wow.

Yesterday was one of the happiest and hardest days of my life in a long time. I've never felt so drained and lost, and yet, free. I'll try to explain...

First, I'm sure all of you saw my blushing and uncomfortableness when I was in the Reynolds hotseat. :) I'm not sure why, but I suppose I felt intimidated. When I'm put on the spot, my mind goes blank, and I feel very flustered. So that made it really hard to focus, and I felt my hands shaking.

That didn't start things off too well. But then, we began to discuss (well, Dr. Reynolds lectured) about how we Americans tend to define ourselves by what we do, what our function is.

It seems like that has been me for most of my life. I've never really considered that I could ever be cared for for me; I've always had this subconscious idea that somehow, for people to approve of and like me, I'd have to only act a certain way, to portray myself as the person I always wished I was. The idea that people could love me for my me-ness, just for who I am, seems so simple, but it was mind-blowing. You mean I don't have to always be guarded? It's okay to be me? People can like me for me? God is in love with me for myself, and not for how I act or what I do?

God forgive me, I haven't been living in charity, with unmerited love. Somehow...I've slid into a pit of legalism, thinking of my friends back at home in terms of what they can do for me. Comparing them with you friends, when I should love them for themselves. That seems like it should be enough.

When Dr. Reynolds said, "Don't you want someone to love you for yourself?" I felt like someone punched me in the stomach. Something in me completely melted into a puddle on the floor. I guess I never really considered that it could be possible. Perhaps that isn't correct...I've seen it in action, with my parents, but I guess I thought I was a special case. I thought maybe I could earn love if I were enough. If I did enough, if I was smart enough, witty enough, pretty enough. But I finally realize that it's okay to be me. To be Lauren. Faults and defects and all.

Yesterday, I felt really drained and tested and broken. Yet I left session with an other-worldly sense of freedom. I know I'll still struggle with striving, but it's ok to be me. And it's never been okay to be me. I've always struggled with comparing myself to others and falling completely short. But now it is. I'm me, and by God's grace, that's enough. He loves me "just as I am." I'm free. God broke me, and put me back together again. (I sound like Humpty Dumpty.)

Then, we went to play "Sardines" around Metzger, and I had this crazy sense of freedom. I wanted to run for joy and never get tired. (Though Karissa thought I was crazy.) I wanted to frolic. I looked up at the few stars and the sliver of moon, and thought, "God's in heaven, all's right with the world."

Thanks guys, for each one of you. For who you are. You have no idea how much I truly like you guys. You know I love you all, but I really like you guys, too. I like being with you, and talking with you. Thanks for being yourselves.

Let it be so.