To Give Human Nature to God

Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.

The world around her must have been informed with more than its habitual loveliness, for she was gathering it all to the making of her son.

He was completely her own, utterly dependent upon her: she was His food and warmth and rest, His shelter from the world, His shade in the Sun….the four walls and the roof of His home.

It must have been a season of joy, and she must have longed for His Birth, but at the same time she knew that every step that she took, took her little son nearer to the grave.

Each work of her hands prepared His hands a little more for the nails, each breath that she drew counted one more to His last.

In giving life to Him she was giving Him death.

All other children born must inevitably die; death belongs to fallen nature; the mother's gift to the child is life.

But Christ is life; death did not belong to Him.

In fact, unless Mary would give Him death, He could not die.

Unless she would give Him the capacity for suffering, He could not suffer.

He could only feel cold and hunger and thirst if she gave Him her vulnerability to cold and hunger and thirst.

He could not know the indifference of friends or treachery at the bitterness of being betrayed unless she gave Him a human mind and a human heart.

That is what it meant to Mary to give human nature to God.

--from "The Reed of God" by Caryll Houselander (OP: Gem Fadling, Unhurried Living newsletter).

Recalling Presence

Have you ever thought about what happens when we worry - to our attention, to our presence? What effect does this have on our hearts and the hearts of those around us? Why does living in the past sometimes hinder our living in the present? Why does worrying about the future drain us and constrict us making it hard to breathe?

I'm ashamed to admit I've spent countless hours worrying - about what might happen, about what other people think, about if our needs will be met, etc. It's a particular brokenness in my soul that makes it hard, if not impossible, for me to trust God and feel hope. I've learned that such "bentness" is rooted in ancient places of my soul, ground into my social self by a brutal experience of childhood. I was raised to believe that the world is a very unsafe place. God has been on a long term renovation project though, teaching me to trust by uniting me to his Son and allowing his heart and mind to interact with mine for the last 31+ years.

For as long as I can remember I've spent and directed vast amounts of my soul's energies toward attempts to secure myself through clarity, control and comfort. I wonder if, or how, these energies can be called back, redeemed and re-directed. After a recent time of prayer spent surrendering to God, I realized what happens when I worry about worst case scenarios. I project or send forth my attention, my focus and my soul's energy into situations and problems that rarely come to pass. This leaves me feeling fragmented, dissipated, weak, strained, torn and weary. In silence I rebuke the enemy of my soul and recall my presence from all the places it doesn't belong. I come home to love. I surrender to God as water poured out in trust (Ps 62:8). Recalling presence gives me my soul back, attention, energy and focus now available to be directed toward God. It's one more piece to God's project, being snapped into place.

The Trinitarian Heart (a Poem)

My heart is Trinitarian

    because of the sweet society who lives there.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit

    Beauty, Goodness and Truth

    

ever-expanding circles

    of sufficiency, romance and meaning

enveloping the lovers, partakers and seekers

    passing by the spectators and consumers

    addicted to utility, they are deaf to the song

I am deaf and blind

I need waking

I need resurrection

My heart is lost to me

Where am I to be found?

    Does a home for me still exist?

Expansive and wild 

Free of fear and utility

Free of success and usefulness

Free to run and play, create and dream

    in the house of the Lord forever.