I wonder how many times in the course of a day I say or think to myself, “I’m going to do this,” or “I want to do that.”

It may not be exactly those words – and it may not even involve words, but it is there in my consciousness as My Plan.

One of my patrons, St. Catherine of Genoa, was given the message in the course of her spiritual journey that she was to no longer use the pronoun “I”. Whenever a plan or intent was considered, it was always, “we” – her and Christ.

Many of those whom God chooses for great holiness seem to experience something like this. It is as though they have no will, no self, apart from Christ.

Recently, I was reading from the writings of Mother Teresa (now St. Teresa of Calcutta) and learned that she had taken a private vow early in her consecrated life. Her vow was that she would never say no to Jesus.

The immensity of the suffering she endured in keeping this vow was never known during her lifetime, except to her spiritual directors.

Being chosen to live a life of holiness at this level is not at all easy or glorious. To those watching from afar, it may seem that they enjoy great favor from God – and sometimes even considerable acclaim from the world for their holiness and good works.

Little do we know about such holiness and the cross it is to the soul that bears it.

As I reflect on this, I wonder how one comes to so totally lose oneself in God. How one arrives at the point of being able to genuinely proclaim with St. Paul, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20).

I certainly do not know, except that it is by grace.

And yet not by grace alone. For God does not take a man’s will from him; He does not rob a woman of her self without her voluntary surrender.

And so I am brought back to the opening lines of this post. My Plan. What I want to do. Or what I do not want.

It is a regular feature of how I relate to others and the world and God. And one that creates a great obstacle to the grace God offers me as He beckons me to become “we” with Him.

I have been abundantly aware of this in recent times. Some physical discomforts come my way – no, I don’t want those. My thoughts turn ruminative about these discomforts – no, I don’t want that. I am so tired. I don’t like that – and I don’t like my complaining about it either.

In the midst of these minor issues (yes, they are minor), it seems that God took art away from me. Whether to be like one of those sabbaticals He occasionally gives me from writing – or something permanent, I cannot know.

Throughout this time, I have found myself able to look at all of the colors in my pastel box and feel indifferent. Ideas from unfinished projects have flashed before my eyes and “Maybe another time” is all that comes forth.

As many of you know, I have loved my photography and painting rain barrels and making ink-on-glass projects. And yes, climbing onto the counter so that I could color my kitchen windows with markers.

For weeks and weeks, I have been in the desert, wondering, “Perhaps this is it.” But strangely, I knew that if it was over, it was all right.

I have been blessed with so much – and none of it belongs to me. God wants me to learn this. My body is His. My mind is His. Every little and big gift and opportunity He has given me are His to do with as He pleases.

And, if I wish to follow Him, I must surrender so completely that I accept – no, that I desire that He does with me what He pleases. And this may very well not be what, if left to my own devices, I would choose.

Following Him means doing what He did. And thus it is so: I surrender. It is the only path I can take.

I am but a beginner. I still have a great deal of will of my own. But He is teaching me and leading me.

And it is a priceless thing…

+++

Today, quite unexpectedly, I found art in my soul again. I had dropped a bit of ink a couple of weeks ago without a lot of feeling and yesterday a poem began emerging to accompany it.

Of itself, it is nothing much – just as I am nothing much. But I share it with you to sing God’s praise. How kind and loving of Him to allow art back into my soul, even if only for a moment.

I do not know if it will be there tomorrow – and it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I follow Him.

To Him be glory.

+++

+

sun drifts pale in blue

as earth bleeds red-orange joy.

life hides its shadows. 

+++

It is a touchy thing to discuss politics with friends, even in the written word. Yet this evening, the day following a very contentious presidential election, I feel called to do so.

Some Christians I know felt there was no conscionable choice in this election. How does one vote when both candidates appear deeply flawed in their characters or policies (or both)?

Other Christians backed one candidate or the other with differing levels of enthusiasm, ranging from “the lesser of two evils” to hearty endorsement. Interwoven into these responses were perceptions, true or false, as to the extent either candidate would defend or endanger the unborn, the poor and international peace and security.

The inevitable happened.

Someone won and someone lost.

It happens every time. And, as happens most times, the outcome is viewed as disastrous by some and as an immense achievement by others.

And so it was with great consolation that I opened the Scripture readings for today and found awaiting me the following passage from St. Paul’s letter to Titus (3:1-6):

Remind your people that it is their duty to be obedient to the officials and representatives of the government; to be ready to do good at every opportunity; not to go slandering other people or picking quarrels, but to be courteous and always polite to all kinds of people. Remember, there was a time when we too were ignorant, disobedient and misled and enslaved by different passions and luxuries; we lived then in wickedness and ill-will, hating each other and hateful ourselves.

But when the kindness and love of God our Savior for mankind were revealed, it was not because He was concerned with any righteous actions we might have done ourselves; it was for no reason except His own compassion that He saved us, by means of the cleansing water of rebirth and by renewing us with the Holy Spirit which He so generously poured over us through Jesus Christ our Savior. (Jerusalem Bible trans.)

In the contemporary America, being “obedient” to the government has not been a popular concept – or even a thinkable one by most, at least since the 1960’s when everything fell apart with the Vietnam War, Watergate and the revelation that the emperor wore no clothes.

This is not to say that every citizen respected the government before that or that all disagreement was orderly. Far from it. But it seems that that time period in particular began an era in which many people became particularly disillusioned not only with government, but with such traditional notions as authority and obedience.

Were Paul’s words about the duty to obey intended only for the flock served by Titus? Or must we heed them as well?

It is a fascinating irony that I am posing this question at the same time that a very different Scripture cycle is being read in the Divine Office of the western Church. In the last couple of weeks, we have been reading from the book of Maccabees where many of God’s people were tortured and killed because they refused to abandon the Law and obey King Antiochus.

Then, just yesterday, in the Book of Daniel, we read of the three young men being thrown into the white-hot furnace because they refused to obey King Nebuchadnezzar and worship his idols.

Hence, we have an admonition to obey government while given accounts of highly esteemed followers of the Lord who disobeyed their governments unto death. What sense can we make of this?

And, of course, to add to the confusion, we must consider the enigmatic words of the Lord Jesus when such a question was posed to try to trick Him, “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God,” He said in response. (Matthew 22:21)

These words of Jesus are our first instruction. The Latin origins of the word “obey” mean literally “to listen”. And, before all else, we know we must listen to Him. For our world is at war and He is our Commander.

And so what belongs to God? We do. We belong to a Kingdom not of this world and we always owe our first allegiance to it.

Should our government tell us to violate the laws of our God, we must obey our God first and always because we belong to Him.

But we know this is often not so easily carried out in the complex world of the 21st century. If my government uses my tax money to fund activities that violate God’s laws, how can I obey God? (As a former tax resister, I can testify that the options are few.)

Even to know what violates God’s law is not so simple to discern as we might hope. No one asks us under penalty of death to worship gold statues or to eat pork. Rather, money is withheld from our paychecks to fund so many things that we cannot understand or keep track of them all. After a time, what seemed black or white, may begin to seem so gray that we know longer know how to respond.

And it is because of this confusion on the battlefield that we must be both “obedient” and ever watchful.

In obedience, we listen. To listen, we must take time to be silent with the Lord.

We cannot listen to Him if, as St. Paul notes, we are picking quarrels, slandering or being enslaved by passions.

And is this not what we observe in modern politics? Quarrels, slander, passions?

As Christians living in the world, Paul exhorts us to remember our own enslavement – whether to these vices and passions or others. Hence, when we see others enslaved – the candidates that we do not favor, their followers, the government leaders that we think are ill-suited for duty – we are to recall that we did not become free because of our own virtue.

And so, if I have been freed of my enslavement by grace, it is now my duty to be merciful. As a “good citizen”, I am not to live like one enslaved by the passions of this world but as one who loves and respects all, especially those whom I believe to have fallen from truth or to be enslaved by passions.

I must pray for them constantly and with a sincere heart – for I too am a sinner, not saved by myself but by the undeserved grace of an infinitely compassionate God.

Yet I must also be ever watchful. For I may be confronted with decisions like the golden statues of old. When challenged by my government, who and what will I worship?

It is then that I must give myself over even more to listening in silence. For it is not my will or my passions that are to direct my behavior, but the One who redeems and directs every step of my life.

Only in silence can I hear Him. Only in stillness will He speak.

This is my obedience. This is the love I am called to.

Will you join me?

It is November 5th and I saw a butterfly.

It is sunny today in Cleveland, Ohio, but cool. The temperature has not yet reached 60 and there is a breeze. Golden leaves are falling like rain. Could have I been mistaken, I thought, when I saw the fluttering from my kitchen window?

I pulled back the vertical blinds from the patio doors so that cell phone and I could waste no time in checking out the back yard. A squirrel scampered away as we headed out. I didn’t see anything.

So I spoke up. “Is there a butterfly out here? I’d like to see you…”

I was pretty sure it was a butterfly I had seen land in the grass and not just a leaf as leaves are not white. And sure enough, no sooner had I spoken these words when the little cabbage white took to its wings again.

I greeted it, of course, and asked if I might receive its image.

It flirted with me, however, touching on my pink cosmos bloom for just a second before flitting into the air again.

It danced around briefly and then took off in full flight, denying my request for an image. “I’ve got places to go and things to do!” its actions cried out, “You have seen me and that is enough.”

And I could hardly argue with that.

Who am I to know what tasks this little one may still have had to complete in its short lifespan? I am not a butterfly and do not know their ways.

Naturally I would like to think that it came only to deliver its message to me. But, more than likely, it had other assignments as well.

Did it have a message for me?

Well, it is November 5th.

How often do we see butterflies in Cleveland in November?

Not often, to say the least. But I saw one on this very same date two years ago. Yes, on November 5th. And I wrote about it. Do you remember? (Here is the image from November, 2014.)

November 5th is my father’s birthday. Had he lived on, he would have been 87 today.

Is it mere coincidence that in this year when butterflies were scarce that my garden had record numbers during that week in June between my parents’ wedding anniversary and the anniversary of my father’s death?

Is it mere coincidence that, even though we have had many unseasonably warm days this fall, only today did I see a butterfly? That I happened to be looking out of my window while gathering towels for the laundry when it appeared?

Yes, it could all be coincidence. But what is coincidence, if not the coinciding of the life we see and understand with the life that is still so completely and marvelously beyond our comprehension?

In our humanness, we cannot help but look upon death with sorrow. No matter how strong our faith, it is a mystery and a parting that leaves us with a deep longing within.

But we are not left alone in our sorrow. When we keep our hearts full of love, they become able to perceive the multitude of little gifts constantly being showered upon us, reassuring us that this sorrow is but for a moment.

Everything is all right. All is most well in the eternal Love. And soon enough, we will experience this Truth in its fullness.

+++

This past Monday, I had cataract surgery on my right eye. My cataract wasn’t too severe but glare was becoming a problem and my glasses needed changing just months after getting a new pair. It seemed a good time to get this taken care of. Everyone I talked to remarked about how easy and painless the procedure was, so simple that I could go to work the next day.

Of course the consent form had to inform me that rare complications resulting in blindness can occur. However, most unsuccessful outcomes occurred in patients with other eye diseases.

Even though my eyes are healthy, prior to the operation, I secretly prepared myself for the worst. I prayed and entrusted my eye to God. After all, everything that I have and am belongs to Him and He may do with me whatever He wills.

When the surgery was over on Monday, the doctor told me that everything went exactly as it should. He removed the patch the next morning in his office, warning me to not expect too much. It takes time for the eye to heal and vision to clear after surgery. And so I was grateful that I could indeed see and accepted his assurances that the blurred vision, scratchiness and tearing were normal.

By Wednesday afternoon and going into Thursday, I was ready to rip out my eyeball and throw it at him.

I guess it is a good thing that God did not permit me to be challenged with blindness. Despite my valiant intentions, I never would have survived it.

This was an excellent lesson from the Lord to help me see just how very weak I am. And, in my pride, I desperately need such lessons, though I can’t say that I enjoy them.

I used to think that “pride” was limited to arrogance or conceit. If I kept myself free of those vices, I was doing all right.

How limited was my vision. How subtle is the enemy.

God, in His goodness, has enabled me to see more now – though I’m sure that there is still a great deal about which I am blind.

One of the things that I now realize is that what some people might think is my “goodness” actually has little to do with my own strength or virtue. In reality, it seems that God, discerning how weak I am, has given me an extremely light cross to carry.

Because our ultimate goal as Christians is unity with God through Christ, we recognize that this also means joining in His suffering, pouring ourselves out in love as He poured Himself out in love. Because He died on the cross, we often refer to our own sufferings and hardships as “crosses”.

In considering all of the crosses I have seen people carry in life, I would have to admit that mine weighs about 8 ounces – while others are staggering under loads of 10, 20, 50 or even 100 pounds.

The enemy attempts to lure me into a sort of self-satisfaction of thinking that I am faithful and holy – as I proudly bear my little 8 ounce cross.

Yet add a couple of ounces to the load and I begin to crumple. I’m whining and complaining within. I become irritable and distracted. One would think I was carrying a real burden.

And so, in this lesson, I am taught that I am a mere child on the path to God, carrying my tiny cross and pledging my love, while having little or no understanding of what that really entails.

I am so grateful to have been given St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus as my patron and teacher. For she teaches those of us who are very small to follow her “little way” (read more here). It is perhaps the only way for one such as me.

+++

However, there is another chapter to this story. Through an online friend, I recently learned of a family who was given one of the 100 pound crosses.

Almost two years ago, sepsis quickly took from a young couple their lovely 18 month old daughter. Her small body was buried on the grounds of an Orthodox monastery, her grave marked by a simple wooden cross. And, as any parents would, they have grieved deeply ever since.

I do not know why some people are given such very heavy crosses to carry. Although I have never met this couple, I am sure that they would not consider themselves strong enough to bear it. Who could be – except with the help of Christ Himself?

Even then, I do not doubt that there must have been times – many times – when this cross seemed unbearable.

But something very interesting, very extraordinary happened recently.

A member of the faithful, a 65 year old man, departed this life for eternity. His funeral was held at the same monastery where the child was buried. The parents were in attendance and the abbess of the monastery suggested that any there might request that this faithful man carry messages to others who had fallen asleep in the Lord.

And so the father did. While acknowledging that he hadn’t known him well, he asked this man to tell his little girl to “say hi to Mom”.

A few days later, my online friend (the father’s godfather) while looking at the cross for their recently deceased church member, saw something else glinting. Taking a closer look, he saw the child’s cross bathed in light – an exceptionally brilliant light. And he received its image so that he could share it…

+++

What does all of this mean?

For the parents to see this image must have been a great consolation, though undoubtedly a highly emotional one.

How else could they (or we) interpret it but as an assurance that their loving message was received and that their daughter is indeed enjoying the fullness of light and joy in heaven?

While it does not bring their daughter back to them, it may make the unbearable a bit more bearable as the “things unseen” that they know by faith are, for a moment, made visible to their aching hearts.

But I think that there is an additional message in this image for all of us.

I wonder why God chose the child’s cross to carry the message of consolation. Certainly there were an infinite number of ways He could have accomplished this.

Of course, it marked her grave and thus would seem a logical choice.

But also, it is a cross.

At the time we carry them, all of our crosses feel heavy to us, whether they weigh 5 pounds or 100 (or just 8 ounces). We feel overwhelmed and discouraged and alone with them.

We cry out to God, as did the Lord Jesus when He hung from His, and we feel lost in unending darkness.

And yet, here – here – it seems that God lifted the veil for a moment. For just a moment in time, He has given us a glimpse of what lies on the other side of the crosses we carry.

“Come, see what I have done. I have gathered to Myself all of your pain, your anguish, your tears and sleepless nights. I have taken your cross and drawn it into Mine, and the darkness is no longer dark but light, My light – My glorious and eternal Light. Come, My love. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid…My joy awaits you.”

It is this cross, this cross of light that I will keep ever before me as I stumble through the darkness.

God is with us. Yes, He is with us always.

+++

(Many thanks to my online friend, the parents of the child and the abbess of the monastery for permission to use here their story and photographic images for the greater glory of God.)

As many of you know, I am facilitating an ongoing discussion/reflection on Orthodox Prayer Life: The Interior Way, by Matthew the Poor (aka Fr. Matta El-Meskeen) at the blog, Here to Pray. Since the topic of faith seemed to me to be of broader interest, I am posting this reflection for those who may not be following the book. When I am summarizing Fr. Matta’s ideas, I type in blue. My own ideas or comments are in black.

To understand what faith is, we begin by looking at what faith is not. It is not a feeling or an emotion. It is not a blind call to leap into mystery. It is not something we force our souls into so that we feel the existence of God and all that is unseen. Faith is not an attempt to deceive my mind so as to convince myself that salvation and everything related to it is true. It is not a repressing of the doubts that make certain issues hard for our materialistic minds to understand or accept. It is not a private opinion. Faith is not something we become convinced of after analyzing, drawing conclusions, or comparing all of the possibilities. It is not the result of scientific investigation.

Some of these statements seem more obvious than others. What is a bit disconcerting, however, is how long and comprehensive the list is. If faith is none of these things, then what is it?

First, the mind must “declare its resignation”, and accept the truths of Christianity without resisting, without investigating. The mind surrenders its powers gladly and lovingly to God in a spirit of obedience. Once this is done, the Holy Spirit begins to reveal to the mind everything that relates to these truths. No one but God can reveal or explain these facts to us because they are not of this world.

But, but… my mind stammers. This is backwards. I need to understand first. How can I surrender to someone or something that I do not understand? And yet, I must concede that, if my mind could, by its own powers, determine the nature of God or whether Christianity were absolutely true, that nature and those truths would have to be pretty limited in scope. Looking at the vast beauty and complexity of the universe, I suppose it is absurd to expect that my mind or any human mind could comprehend its Creator…

God, of course, knows how limited our minds are when it comes to knowing any of the facts about Him, were He not to help us. And that is why He has undertaken the revelation of Himself and everything about our relationship to Him. If we keep His commandments, He will make up for all of these imperfections in our faith and understanding and will “manifest” Himself to us (John 14:21).

The concept of revelation is not new to me. I was taught that God revealed Himself to Abraham, Moses and so on. But there are so many religions on earth – how can I know that this is the one in which the true God reveals Himself? If God wanted to reveal Himself, why didn’t He make it more obvious? And why must we keep commandments in order to receive this “manifestation”? Why doesn’t He simply manifest Himself to everyone everywhere rather than making it so hard?

The word “faith” in the Church is generally used in two ways, one objective and the other subjective. Objective faith has to do with the facts and creeds as expressed in the Bible and recorded in the canons of the Church (based on the Councils and Church Fathers). “The faith” in this sense is not alterable except by the intervention of God’s grace. Subjective faith, on the other hand, is the heart’s ability to respond directly to God in submission and love (though not without conformity to the creeds). Objective faith requires our reason and logic – but also grace. Subjective faith is based on love, obedience and intimacy, relying on God in complete surrender. So absolute is the surrender that this faith is not stopped by apparent clashes with reason or “reality” as humanity might perceive it.

Hmm…So this subjective faith involves love – and that, of course, involves a choosing. If there were only one obvious “truth” that no one could refute or deny, there would be no choosing and therefore no opportunity for love. But I thought faith was a gift. If it is a gift, how does my choice enter in? What if I am not given the gift of faith?

Faith is both a gift and a virtue. The truths of objective faith involve gift: the incarnation and the resurrection are gifts, “supernatural” occurrences. While all of nature is a gift, this redemptive entrance of God into our nature is the greatest gift among the truths of the faith. Because, as fact, it goes beyond our human understanding, it also requires some gift that enables our minds to conceive of “supernatural”. Yet faith is also a virtue because we must want to have it. We must have a desire to believe and a willingness to submit, though we cannot accomplish either without grace. And so it is that God’s grace and man’s will work together – as long as we say yes. 

Even if this is true, I must say that this idea of keeping commandments sounds rather difficult and dull to me. I’m not terribly fond of the notions of obedience and submission either. It sounds like a burdensome life, more like enslavement than anything I would choose. However, the idea of love is appealing. I don’t see how all of these things fit together…

We have been discussing ideas. But there is another element here: redemption and faith in the Redeemer Himself. Before Jesus came to earth, people had the law to follow and prophets to teach them but they did not know God as person. Faith was an attempt to reconcile man’s will with God’s will. It seemed nearly an impossible task on our end. But God continued to pursue us – to the point of entering our human state in Christ, shedding His blood and overcoming the death that our disobedience caused. Out of this was born a new direction for faith – one of love. We are pursued by One who has given Himself completely out of love for us. The law is now written in our hearts and is “spirit and life”, not simply a set of rules on stone tablets. No longer is the goal just to reconcile the will of man with the will of God. Rather, we are made anew so that we may be brought into union with Him, so that the divine may pervade us. The “yoke” of obedience now is not only tolerable but something “easy”, something we love. 

But I don’t know how to begin…

I resign my mind… it is so.

I submit totally… it is so.

Teach me… it is so.

I desire faith… it is so.

I need grace… it is so.

I am loved… it is so.

And now I love… it is so.

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and will be forever. Amen.

+++

(For those who follow the book discussion at Here to Pray, more on this section will be posted there soon. Anyone is welcome to join.)

For just a second, our eyes connected.

It was a hot, humid evening and I sat in my air-conditioned Toyota, waiting for the light to change.

She stood on the sidewalk, looking small and without direction – a little too small to be just standing by herself on that busy road in inner city Cleveland.

She ran up to my car and I leaned over to roll down the window. (Yes, my old vehicle proudly requires manual cranking.)

“I’m scared to go home. I’m afraid of my mother. I don’t know what to do.”

By this time, the light had changed and there were cars behind me. I unlocked the door and let her in so that we could talk. I pulled over to clear the way for those waiting patiently behind me.

I told her that we would figure out something but needed to drive around the corner so we could make some phone calls from a quieter and safer place.

I asked her a few questions about her family, brother and sisters, mother and father. She was the youngest of a good-sized group living with the mother. She had a father whom she visited. She did not know his phone number – or his last name. She did know where he lived, however.

When asked about a phone number for her mother or siblings, she was quick to tell me that she did not want to go back there.

Her sister was getting “whooped” and she was afraid of getting it. She’d been hurt by her mother before.

In the next couple of weeks, she would be entering third grade.

After making a call and considering the limited options available to me, I drove her to 2^nd District further down on Fulton Road. She agreed to talk to the police and I said I would stay with her while she did.

The conversation was short but the police were kind. They gave the impression that perhaps she had done something wrong and was just afraid of punishment. Possible. But so afraid that she would approach a total stranger for help rather than go home?

The police would have to take her back to her mom to talk about it. This was inevitable, I suppose. I asked them in her presence if they would protect her from being hurt when they went to her house.

They assured me that they would. And that they would check the house for cleanliness, adequate food and furnishings and so on.

I know they will do their best.

But I am still afraid for her.

What if everything looks good enough when they arrive and they leave her there? Will Mom rip into her after they are gone? “NOW look what you’ve done!”

Perhaps Mom is not so bad, just overwhelmed by too many kids and the sweltering heat. Perhaps she just blows up now and then and this child is more fearful than most.

Whose car might she get into next time?

I cannot help but feel that I did not do enough – even though there was nothing more that I could legally do at the time.

And so I will now do the one thing left to me – the most important thing: I will pray.

Please join me.

view as I was getting in my car to leave 2nd District…

+++

Sometimes I’m not sure why I do the things I do – or why God permits me to do them.

I don’t know if I’m being obedient and allowing myself to be led by Him. Or if the corrupt desires of my ego have taken over and led me from His path.

Strange that it should be so hard to tell. One might think that after 5-6 decades in the Christian faith I might have a better clue.

But I do not. At least not all of the time.

So I humbly offer to you today an example of such unknowing – a poem written for no particular reason.

The time spent writing could certainly have been used in more productive ways. It is far from a great masterpiece of a poem. Why did I write it?

Am I to learn something of my soul’s struggle as I work through the endless word and sound combinations?

Or did God simply want me seated at my computer last night so that a hot and weary stranger could see me with my door open and ask for a glass of water?

Perhaps I will never know.

But here is the poem…

loose

if her soul

to virtue

holds not tight

when all seems

calm and well.

seized and stolen –

fear the darkest night!

sate on

trifling pleasures

played and won,

forever to excite.

endless now

dismissing then –

 life’s pure meaning

lost from sight.

gay be

real

known to rescue,

show us your great might.

else doomed be all

the free and mortal –

in heaven’s hope

the final fight.

save your

lives

hearts forlorn –

in darkness is the bright.

night be conquered,

come and taste –  

consume His joy!

 holy His great light.

(This poem includes a little puzzle of sorts. Did you notice? Strange the things I do…Not a total waste…at least a thirsty pilgrim received a glass of water.)

Greetings, kind reader.

Once again, I stay up too late, typing away when I ought be sleeping. 🙂

I know some of you may follow the “Here to Pray” book discussion blog – but some may not or may have set aside the book for now. However, I broke from my usual format over at that blog this evening and wrote a little essay that sort of “felt” like it belonged here. What to do, what to do…

Not wanting to publish the same article twice, I decided I would put in a link here for any who might want to read it. The topic has to do with freeing our souls, understanding our relationship to “the world” and, most importantly, submission of ourselves to God. I think the post will make sense even if you haven’t read the book.

Click here if you wish to check it out. (Good night!)