Where You Go, I Will Go: Leave the Rest to God

I think there is no suffering greater than
what is caused by the doubts of those who want to believe. 
I know what torment this is, but I can only see it, 
in myself anyway, as the process by which faith is deepened. 
What people don’t realize is how much religion costs. 
They think faith is a big electric blanket, 
when of course it is the cross. 
It is much harder to believe than not to believe. 
If you feel you can’t believe, you must at least do this: 
keep an open mind. 
Keep it open toward faith, 
keep wanting it, 
keep asking for it, 
and leave the rest to God.
~Flannery O’Connor from The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor

And those are called blessed
who make the effort to remain open-hearted. 
Nothing that comes from God,

even the greatest miracle,
can be proven like 2 x 2 = 4.
It touches one; it is only seen and grasped
when the heart is open

and the spirit purged of self.
Then it awakens faith. 

… the heart is not overcome by faith,
there is no force or violence there,
compelling belief by rigid certitudes. 
What comes from God touches gently, comes quietly;
does not disturb freedom;
leads to quiet, profound, peaceful resolve within the heart.
~Romano Guardini from The Living God

On my doubting days, days too frequent and tormenting,
I remember the risen Christ
reaching out to place Thomas’s hand in His wounds,
gently guiding Thomas to His reality,
so it then becomes Thomas’s reality.
His open wounds called
to Thomas’s mind and heart,
and to mine,
His flesh and blood
awakening a hidden faith
by a simple touch.

Leave it to God to know how to reach the unreachable.

This year’s Lenten theme:

…where you go I will go…
Ruth 1:16

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Every Morning I’m Alive

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Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about

spiritual patience?  Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.

Every morning, so far, I’m alive…
~Mary Oliver from “Landscape” in New and Selected Poems

 

 

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If even the mighty oaks standing along a path are as fragile as flowers,
then how fragile is my heart?

I wake each morning reminded of the treasure of a new day, cranking open the rusty doors of my heart.

Let the fresh air of grace and gratitude fill me today.

 

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Keeping Open the Door of My Heart

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Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about

spiritual patience? Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
~Mary Oliver from “Landscape”

 

________

Even in mid-January,
when endless days drag on dark and damp~
even when I am unconvinced
new life and light will ever return,
the mosses grow with enthusiasm,
requiring so little to stay alive~
they patiently encourage me
to keep open my heart
to the possibility
that even now,
especially now,
I too can thrive.

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