…What an absurdity of glory,
In no way mighty and no dignity giv’n
But kingly gifts a’kneeling low
Amid that stench of dung and wailing….
Some. God.
Who can change a man -
Who came, a Man,
To change man.
To turn all golden gods to dust,
To turn all hearts to Him.
Brother Saul, belike us all,
Turned 'gainst our Lord in furious thrall,
Who've railed our fists to heaven, tall
and cursed that Name all men must call,
'Til us, like you, He turns to Paul
and all our chains, like scales, they fall.
And Walking onward,
For how can you walk so far
When Linda’s brother just took his life hours before, by himself,
His life cradled in his hands – and he smothered it,
Baby bird
Quickly gone.
To begin, I will tell the story of the atom. The atom is the foundation of all pertinent matter in this universe of ours (to say nothing of nothingness and dark matter). Suffice it to say, nothing physically present in space exists without them. Atoms unite to form molecules, molecules unite to form compounds and all things are thus held together.
Read MoreI knew this was happening and yet I could not see it. I knew this and yet I could not find it. I sensed the air around me as if I could feel a tear or a ripple in it, as if I could sense any horror in the quivering of the wind, any cry for help or silent plea to the God of Mercy. I could hear nothing and the wind only carried its usual silent self onward...
Read MoreDroppin’ my encyclicals
Like Sondheim they so lyrical,
Poppin’ off this Papal broth
Like ill-dissolving miracles,
Read MoreThe generalizations and laughter continued until everyone had agreed and agreed and agreed and then swept their brows in relief that at least they weren’t suckers for such idiocy...
Read More...I see how the generations of the young in our country have read him with a fire in their breasts too – how they, too, wanted to course along the wide beautiful land of America and find their meaning and joy and purpose in its freedoms and its open roads, its great big stars and lonely cold nights.
But I cant help but wonder at the men who built those roads. The immigrants who laid the railroad. What did they dream about? What hope did they have?
Read MoreI'm reading On the Road for the first time in acknowledgement of its great American, racing, literary heartbeat. I thought it would be fun to emulate Kerouac's breathless writing style:
I wanted to see the sun as it set so as soon as I could don-off the work trappings and deadline woes of the day I did so and set off at a trot in a sleeveless shirt to greet the night breezes that were surely coming.
Read More...OR I can choose fear & anxiety, letting the darkness of the world bind me in inactive passivity and ultimately in selfish angst, sinful indulgence; "Well, it's all shit, may as well get mine and pray for change." THAT is certainly not how Jesus meant for His bride to live.
His people are more than conquerors, vibrant world-changers, patient as rocks and steadfast as the mountains.
...Like a spider's strand I am subject to His mercy and His good plan, and I may land just where I started or I may rest miles away; but above all I know Him whose hand casts me onward and He is good, He is trustworthy, He is loving, He will provide.
Read More...It makes me wonder if the Church is, at times, as welcoming as this city? And this city is just a large-scale experiment in human community, like any other. But do we as a Church, as the Bride of Christ, have as open arms? Do we beckon and invite others to our tables; do we show them more hospitality than these few strangers-become-friends I've met?
This is a big yes and no answer and more than a mere blogpost can tackle, especially as I sit minutes before the Conference begins with the last sugary dregs of street-cart coffee.
Today was an exceptionally beautiful morning. If you've never understood the concept of chiaroscuro then the sunrise this morning would have defined it for you. I walked out onto my stoop to a sky-full of row upon row of painfully light-etched clouds floating aft of a warm bursting of young light from a sun faintly warming the unseasonal and delicious coolness of the dawn.
Read MoreAnd the wails aren’t anywhere but the news, the deaths are everywhere but here-
The Life is continually short, and the Breath comes for all in unequal strides-
The Life is continually short, and the Breath staggers in the chest across the finish-...
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