habits of renewal

Put on the new self who is being renewed to a true knowledge according to the image of the One who created him. . . (Col 3:10)

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is that which is good and acceptable and perfect. (Rom 12:2)

Renewal is a choice, a way of thinking, an opening of the mind to the pattern of Truth. It doesn't happen automatically. Renewal happens when we make a regular habit of facing ourselves with the mirror of God's image. It seems to be glass at first, but as we look further up and further in the glass melts into a pool of unfathomable depth and beauty. We need habits of renewal which cause us to gaze intently, drink deeply, and dive joyfully into all that God is.

Brother Lawrence speaks to this habit-making:

"We cannot escape the dangers which abound in life without the actual and continual help of God. Let us, then, pray to Him for it continually. How can we pray to Him without being with Him? How can we be with Him but in thinking of Him often? And how can we think of Him but by a holy habit which we should form of it? You will tell me that I am always saying the same thing. It is true, for this is the best and easiest method I know; and as I use no other, I advise all the world to do it. We must know before we can love. In order to know God, we must often think of Him; and when we come to love Him, we shall also think of Him often, for our heart will be with our treasure. This is an argument which well deserved your consideration."


~lg

green

Weeping willows cry green tears of joy,
dripping into the silver creek,
for spring.
Fair forests are wrapped in ethereal emerald gauze,
dressed for an evening dance
with spring.

What is this naive colour,
defying old man winter's mothballs,
rippling secret laughter through sleepy forests
racing to the horizon to catch up with the sun?

This is green,
green so new God must have thought it up only moments ago.


~lg

401 reverie

The wooded hills beckon in the evening sunfall
The bare brown carpet invites spring
invites me to come up and commune
with the strength of the oaks and the
delicate beauty of the birch child
Amethyst clouds light the ridge above
and elvish whispers stir the leaves to a hesitant dance

The woods are not awake yet
But their clear blood begins to rise
in the warmth of lengthening days
They give to us a taste of the first sweetness of spring
Pouring their joy out from wounds
Drink from the promise of hope
and let your tongue sing our song
Shadows of geese sail though the sundogs
which circle their master three times before
sinking to the horizon's bed

The woods will sleep another night

~lg

Intercessions - April 1

Father of peace and healing,

You are the one who breaks insurmountable dividing walls. Make a footbridge of peace over troubled waters. Where disappointment and bitterness wedge souls apart, bind them together with cords of mercy and the balm of Gilead. Be near to the brokenhearted, and save the ones who are crushed in spirit. Gather their pieces in tenderness and speak healing to their brokenness. May your gentleness make them great. Restore souls and rescue the estranged from division. Be their peace.

Amen

Ps 18:35; 34:18


~lg

my internet

In the effort to detach myself from the computer over Lent, a new pile emerged on the coffee table. I came to call this pile (which varied over the weeks) my "new internet." These were the pages I surfed, with a sense of satisfaction I never get from reading off a screen. As you can see, it was a little of this, and a little of that, reflecting my current interests: theology, PEI, L. M. Montgomery, Hadrian's Wall, good stories, topped by my Bible and journal, which help make sense of everything else I read. Lent is over but the pile (slightly changed) is still there, a welcome stack of paper friends. The only thing missing from the picture is a steaming cup of coffee!

~lg

spring floods

The Forks of the Credit are swollen with the force of spring. Heaven’s thoughts, hurled down in the rain and snow, are now converging to water the earth. The waves are high, higher than the banks, higher than our thoughts can hold them. We are frightened by their icy strength, until we can hear the undercurrents of joy. The northwest wind breaks over the mountains and hills, waking up the trees of the field. Their bony applause welcomes the wind and the rising waters. Clap your hands, put on your rubbers, you cannot hold back the impetuous vernal flood.



God . . . has infinite treasure to bestow, and we take up with a little sensible devotion, which passes in a moment. Blind as we are, we hinder God and stop the current of His graces. But when He finds a soul penetrated with a lively faith, He pours into it His graces and favors plentifully; there they flow like a torrent which, after being forcibly stopped against its ordinary course, when it has found a passage, spreads itself with impetuosity and abundance.
(Brother Lawrence - The Practice of the Presence of God)

~lg