Dare to pray. Christ prays in you more than you imagine - Brother Roger
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Hospitality
Hospitality is about keeping the door of our hearts open.
It happens, therefore, at close range.
Disappoints, heartache and the like,
these (if we let them),
shut and bolt
our hearts
tight.
If and
when this happens,
I pray that God would
shove God's foot into your door...
And from the other side,
God will whisper,
It happens, therefore, at close range.
Disappoints, heartache and the like,
these (if we let them),
shut and bolt
our hearts
tight.
If and
when this happens,
I pray that God would
shove God's foot into your door...
And from the other side,
God will whisper,
‘Don’t be afraid.
In love there is always
so much more’.
In love there is always
so much more’.
Patiently, God will wait.
But you, and only you,
will have to muster up the courage
to open your heart’s door.
For in God's design,
the key is always placed
in your pocketSunday, March 27, 2011
Woman at the Well
Thank you
for meeting us
in the ordinary, the practical
and the mundane;
At the height or
depth of our lives
Thank you, that in
Jesus, you listen to us
regardless of who we are
In Jesus, you care
enough to break
cultural and stereotypical
restraints
In Jesus,
you listen to
what we say in words
and beyond our words
Help us to
move from isolation
towards others;
To put aside our quickness
to judge or box.
To see in other
our sisters and brothers,
fathers and mothers
Jesus
our life and way,
thank you for
acknowledging
what every heart
has to say
for meeting us
in the ordinary, the practical
and the mundane;
At the height or
depth of our lives
Thank you, that in
Jesus, you listen to us
regardless of who we are
In Jesus, you care
enough to break
cultural and stereotypical
restraints
In Jesus,
you listen to
what we say in words
and beyond our words
Help us to
move from isolation
towards others;
To put aside our quickness
to judge or box.
To see in other
our sisters and brothers,
fathers and mothers
Jesus
our life and way,
thank you for
acknowledging
what every heart
has to say
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Teach us How to Pray
The Bible says two vital things about prayer. Firstly, that we must pray and secondly, that we must be taught how to pray. See how, in her simple prayer, Mother Teresa remains evergreen, always a student, sitting at the feet of her beloved rabbi and teacher, Jesus of Nazareth:
Jesus
come into my heart,
Pray with me,
Pray in me -
that I may learn from thee
How to pray
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Praying with Scripture
Lectio Divina is an ancient way of Praying with the Scriptures. It means divine, spiritual or sacred reading of Scripture. It's not about making a study of scripture. But it's primary purpose is to touch and transform our lives. Richard Foster writes, 'It is a way of allowing the mind to descend into the heart'. It is a deliberate move from exclusive head space to heart and soul space
Monday, March 21, 2011
Praying with Icons
Let the video buffer first. You do so by pressing play and then when it kicks in, press pause (anywhere on the screen) wait until the line has scrolled solidly from l to r. Turn up the volume, look and listen. With love and blessings
Some of my thoughts set against music by Margaret Rizza, photos of St Stephen's Youth Group, and two icons - one of which is the oldest known icon of Christ, Pantocrator, kept at St Catherine's Monastery, Mount Sinai
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Icons, Gaze, See and Seen
St Stephen's Church, Pinelands. Lenten Themes, Approaches to Prayera
Icons encourage us to pray with eyes and hearts wide open. To grasp love not just with our hands, or intellects, but more generously through our gaze. A soft, uncritical way of paying attention where you not only see, but you are truly seen in return. This can be hard because it calls us to do nothing except be present.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Icons, Image, Word
St Stephen's Church, PinelandsBefore anything was ever written down about Jesus of Nazareth, his disciples must have enjoyed being in his presence as a person; to not only hear his words, but to look upon his face and feel the energy of his authentic Self and soul. For them (as for us) Jesus embodied God as no one and nothing else ever could. In Jesus they looked upon the face of God.
To gaze upon someone you love (and them upon you) is innate and so natural to being human. Photos fill not just our frames but also our hearts. We treasure the images of the ones we love. Icons try to capture something of the image of our ultimate love found in Jesus. The Word became flesh is what we believe. In the stillness of these sacred works may you not only hear but also catch a glimpse and see something of God. God, who in Jesus, is able to touch and hold you tenderly and very personally.
To gaze upon someone you love (and them upon you) is innate and so natural to being human. Photos fill not just our frames but also our hearts. We treasure the images of the ones we love. Icons try to capture something of the image of our ultimate love found in Jesus. The Word became flesh is what we believe. In the stillness of these sacred works may you not only hear but also catch a glimpse and see something of God. God, who in Jesus, is able to touch and hold you tenderly and very personally.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A Place of Prayer
The Garden Chapel at St Stephen's Church, Pinelands
a
A place becomes a place of prayer
when you pray in it - Origen c. 185 -254
Sunday, March 13, 2011
First Sunday in Lent
Loving God, let not me nor my words get in the way of what your Spirit has to say:
One of the loveliest and probably most challenging things about our faith is that it teaches not a distant God, but a God who comes really close to us, and becomes one of us. A God who in Jesus has a heartbeat.
A God who as a child must have cried, or fussed, or screamed, or – God forbid – when he hit two, threw temper tantrums. A God who perhaps, stained his lips with mulberries, or sat in awe of a bowl of pomegranate seeds, before spooning into the smile of his mouth. A God who as a child must have looked up at his father or mother for recognition and affirmation. To see and hear in them (as it was growing inside of him) glimpses and echoes of God.
A God who, from time to time, had fingertips stained with soot, and probably smelt of fire as this God, in Jesus the man, cooked breakfast for his friends on a beach.
Our faith paints a picture of God, who attends a wedding – not as a prude – but as one who must have contributed to the gladness and loudness of the day. A God who allowed people of all sorts to touch him – including women he was not related to. A God who let children climb up on him, like Zacchaeus in a tree.
A God, who in Jesus the man knew what it’s like to walk probably more often on dusty Palestinian earth than on water. A God, who in Jesus, is thoroughly acquainted with the ground – and falling to the ground. A God who weeps at the grave of his friend. A God who is not spared from dying an excruciating, disgraceful, humiliating, all too public death… A God who, on Resurrection Sunday, is mistaken to be the gardener – mistaken to be the boy.
Our faith teaches a God into whose arms we are able to fall; whose stories move us to laughter, to turning our lives and world around, to truth and tears. A God who will get God’s hands dirty as it were for love of us.
Our faith in Jesus never teaches a cold and clinical God; but one who is willing to be born not just among us, but as one of us.
Part of the story from the Book Genesis, read to us today, echoes this God who comes really close. Here our faith paints the picture of a God who, in the cool of an evening breeze, would walk to find us. And when God doesn’t find us, would call out – call out to us (Genesis 3:1-7).
In the gospel for today (Matthew 4:1-11), our faith paints a picture of God who in Jesus knows what it’s like to be tempted, not from a distance, but really up close and personal. A God who knows that when you are really, really hungry – famished in fact, everything will remind you of food. Stones begin to look like loaves of bread. A God who knows that in that moment of weakness we begin to doubt, or completely forget who we are.
But this Lent, let us remember who we are. For central to the story of our origins, found in the book Genesis is not the cunning serpent, not the mistake made by Eve or whoever; not shifting the blame; not even the tree in the centre of the garden. But central to the story is that whatever God makes – whatever God makes, it is not only good, but very good (Genesis 1:31). This includes you and me. God doesn’t make mistakes; what God makes is not only good, but very good. In our moments of weakness, we doubt or complete forget this Goodness; we forget it not only in others but also in ourselves. And we are tempted – even to put God to the test. And like the tempter in the gospel story, we begin to throw the ‘If’ word back at God.
If I’m your child, why’s life so hard?
If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
If you are a loving God, why all the catastrophes, the violence, the senseless loss of life?
I love how Jesus handles the tempter in the gospel story. We can learn from him.
The tempter throws scripture at Jesus, and Jesus replies using scripture.
In our own moments of weakness, when we are tempted to throw
’If’ words and lines back at God, let us learn this Lent, to rewrite those lines.
Use those moments of being tempted and tested to be drawn more deeply
One of the loveliest and probably most challenging things about our faith is that it teaches not a distant God, but a God who comes really close to us, and becomes one of us. A God who in Jesus has a heartbeat.
A God who as a child must have cried, or fussed, or screamed, or – God forbid – when he hit two, threw temper tantrums. A God who perhaps, stained his lips with mulberries, or sat in awe of a bowl of pomegranate seeds, before spooning into the smile of his mouth. A God who as a child must have looked up at his father or mother for recognition and affirmation. To see and hear in them (as it was growing inside of him) glimpses and echoes of God.
A God who, from time to time, had fingertips stained with soot, and probably smelt of fire as this God, in Jesus the man, cooked breakfast for his friends on a beach.
Our faith paints a picture of God, who attends a wedding – not as a prude – but as one who must have contributed to the gladness and loudness of the day. A God who allowed people of all sorts to touch him – including women he was not related to. A God who let children climb up on him, like Zacchaeus in a tree.
A God, who in Jesus the man knew what it’s like to walk probably more often on dusty Palestinian earth than on water. A God, who in Jesus, is thoroughly acquainted with the ground – and falling to the ground. A God who weeps at the grave of his friend. A God who is not spared from dying an excruciating, disgraceful, humiliating, all too public death… A God who, on Resurrection Sunday, is mistaken to be the gardener – mistaken to be the boy.
Our faith teaches a God into whose arms we are able to fall; whose stories move us to laughter, to turning our lives and world around, to truth and tears. A God who will get God’s hands dirty as it were for love of us.
Our faith in Jesus never teaches a cold and clinical God; but one who is willing to be born not just among us, but as one of us.
Part of the story from the Book Genesis, read to us today, echoes this God who comes really close. Here our faith paints the picture of a God who, in the cool of an evening breeze, would walk to find us. And when God doesn’t find us, would call out – call out to us (Genesis 3:1-7).
In the gospel for today (Matthew 4:1-11), our faith paints a picture of God who in Jesus knows what it’s like to be tempted, not from a distance, but really up close and personal. A God who knows that when you are really, really hungry – famished in fact, everything will remind you of food. Stones begin to look like loaves of bread. A God who knows that in that moment of weakness we begin to doubt, or completely forget who we are.
But this Lent, let us remember who we are. For central to the story of our origins, found in the book Genesis is not the cunning serpent, not the mistake made by Eve or whoever; not shifting the blame; not even the tree in the centre of the garden. But central to the story is that whatever God makes – whatever God makes, it is not only good, but very good (Genesis 1:31). This includes you and me. God doesn’t make mistakes; what God makes is not only good, but very good. In our moments of weakness, we doubt or complete forget this Goodness; we forget it not only in others but also in ourselves. And we are tempted – even to put God to the test. And like the tempter in the gospel story, we begin to throw the ‘If’ word back at God.
If I’m your child, why’s life so hard?
If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
If you are a loving God, why all the catastrophes, the violence, the senseless loss of life?
I love how Jesus handles the tempter in the gospel story. We can learn from him.
The tempter throws scripture at Jesus, and Jesus replies using scripture.
In our own moments of weakness, when we are tempted to throw
’If’ words and lines back at God, let us learn this Lent, to rewrite those lines.
Use those moments of being tempted and tested to be drawn more deeply
into the Temple of God
The deepest truth is this:
The deepest truth is this:
It is never ‘If I’m a child of God’
You are God’s child! That is the truth.
You are God’s child! That is the truth.
That is what the tempter wants you to doubt.
You are God’s child.
And that is how every line must begin…
Here’s an example: If I’m your child, then why’s my life so hard?
Rewrite: I am your child. My life is hard. So too was Jesus’ life. But with effort and renewed heart, together we will see it through.
Another example: If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
Rewrite: I am your child. Thank you for doing many things beyond what I can grasp or understand. Thank you that in Jesus, you become small enough to hold not just my heart, not just my dreams, but also my hand.
With effort and practice you’ll begin to see
God’s wonders right there in the wild and your bewilderedness.
You’ll feel again the heartbeat beneath what’s caked-over, calloused and hard.
And you’ll come to experience nothing less than the touch of angels, the touch of God in your deepest time of need…
Be patient with yourself and others as you learn to rewrite your ‘If’ words, lines and scripts. It took Jesus a long time to get to that point. Be excessively kind and gentle with others and with yourself on this Journey. It doesn’t happen overnight.
You are God’s child.
And that is how every line must begin…
Here’s an example: If I’m your child, then why’s my life so hard?
Rewrite: I am your child. My life is hard. So too was Jesus’ life. But with effort and renewed heart, together we will see it through.
Another example: If I’m your child, why don’t you do something?
Rewrite: I am your child. Thank you for doing many things beyond what I can grasp or understand. Thank you that in Jesus, you become small enough to hold not just my heart, not just my dreams, but also my hand.
With effort and practice you’ll begin to see
God’s wonders right there in the wild and your bewilderedness.
You’ll feel again the heartbeat beneath what’s caked-over, calloused and hard.
And you’ll come to experience nothing less than the touch of angels, the touch of God in your deepest time of need…
Be patient with yourself and others as you learn to rewrite your ‘If’ words, lines and scripts. It took Jesus a long time to get to that point. Be excessively kind and gentle with others and with yourself on this Journey. It doesn’t happen overnight.
Remember what our faith teaches about God. How God comes to us in the person of Jesus. A God who in Jesus is big enough to become small enough. A God that is not distant, but closer to you than your own thoughts and breath.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Be Excessively Kind
Photo GoogledDuring this holy time, as we get our hands 'dirty' in the deepening of love's Journey, be excessively kind and gentle towards others, things, animals, the earth and yourself. Befriend your shadow (those dark, overlooked or overgrown places)... Purposefully spend time resting, like a nascent seed, in the rich dark soil of God
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday
Lent is rooted in an ancient word.
Like the Afrikaans word, Lente, Lent also means springtime.
A time of real renewal, creativity and spiritual growth.
A time to bud, blossom and bloom...
to break open, as it were, into new and holy ground.
To move beyond hard and heartless surfaces,
to the real meat and matter of anything, anyone or any situation.
A time of honesty and holiness
A time to return to who we in essence are!
A time to break open into what’s soft and soulful,
always at the core or centre.
A time to enter into
the sweetest marrow.
This may be why, through the prophet Joel, God says
‘Return to me’ – make the journey, make the effort
But don’t give me surface-stuff;
don’t give me pretence or pretentiousness
Give me your heart...
Give me that thing that to our shame, we far too easily ignore,
or cover up, or harden, dismiss, belittle or deride
During Lent there is this lovely
over-emphasis on things like fasting,
weeping, mourning. Why?
Because these are the things that move us beyond
our sugar-coated, glossy veneers.
When you weep, when you mourn,
When your heart is broken by life, love, by loss...
The mascara runs, the masculine mask drops
and the gift of the long-forgotten you
is able to be seen and heard again
To get there takes time and effort...
Forty days, traditionally, means
a long time... So be patient with yourself
as you deliberately and purposefully deepen the Journey.
In this work of love,
be prepared to get dirty.
Any gardener, any gardener knows this...
So it’s appropriate that we start the day with ash.
We danced yesterday, but today we deliberately dirty ourselves.
We remind ourselves that this work of love is hard
But it is also holy – and it requires nothing less than our
whole selves and our whole hearts.
This hard work is holy work...
But it will bring you
back to yourSelf
back to others
back to God
Like the Afrikaans word, Lente, Lent also means springtime.
A time of real renewal, creativity and spiritual growth.
A time to bud, blossom and bloom...
to break open, as it were, into new and holy ground.
To move beyond hard and heartless surfaces,
to the real meat and matter of anything, anyone or any situation.
A time of honesty and holiness
A time to return to who we in essence are!
A time to break open into what’s soft and soulful,
always at the core or centre.
A time to enter into
the sweetest marrow.
This may be why, through the prophet Joel, God says
‘Return to me’ – make the journey, make the effort
But don’t give me surface-stuff;
don’t give me pretence or pretentiousness
Give me your heart...
Give me that thing that to our shame, we far too easily ignore,
or cover up, or harden, dismiss, belittle or deride
During Lent there is this lovely
over-emphasis on things like fasting,
weeping, mourning. Why?
Because these are the things that move us beyond
our sugar-coated, glossy veneers.
When you weep, when you mourn,
When your heart is broken by life, love, by loss...
The mascara runs, the masculine mask drops
and the gift of the long-forgotten you
is able to be seen and heard again
To get there takes time and effort...
Forty days, traditionally, means
a long time... So be patient with yourself
as you deliberately and purposefully deepen the Journey.
In this work of love,
be prepared to get dirty.
Any gardener, any gardener knows this...
So it’s appropriate that we start the day with ash.
We danced yesterday, but today we deliberately dirty ourselves.
We remind ourselves that this work of love is hard
But it is also holy – and it requires nothing less than our
whole selves and our whole hearts.
This hard work is holy work...
But it will bring you
back to yourSelf
back to others
back to God
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Childlikeness and Prayer
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sunday before Lent
Help me
to hear your
voice, Lord,
hard as it
sometimes is
Help me
to go
even into what
I don’t completely know
Let me not be
Too busy to hear
your presence ever near
Mountain top, or rock bottom
You are with me beyond what I can fathom
Help me to know
that even at the other end
You are there as friend
a
to hear your
voice, Lord,
hard as it
sometimes is
Help me
to go
even into what
I don’t completely know
Let me not be
Too busy to hear
your presence ever near
Mountain top, or rock bottom
You are with me beyond what I can fathom
Help me to know
that even at the other end
You are there as friend
a
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Wednesdays during Lent
For five Wednesdays in Lent, St Stephen's Parish in Pinelands will be exploring different approaches to prayer. There are as many ways to pray as there are personalities. The 13th century Persian mystic and poet Jelaluddin Rumi said, 'There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground'...
a
From our Christian tradition, a classical definition of prayer is a life and heart that's open to respond to God. This definition is very helpful as it resists presenting God with a shopping list of wants, desires or needs. It implies that God is forever the initiator; God is the one who calls... The first and crucial step from our side is really to listen and then to respond. One of the Desert Fathers said, if you want to go on a spiritual journey, close your mouth. Listening is as much a part of prayer as talking is. Listen and then respond. Ego reacts whereas the soul responds.
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