The child,
Little,
Helpless in its smallness,
Yet conquering all she surveyed,
Just a smile,
Hearts captured,
Such power in one so small.
As atheists assault religion, Catholic experts say faith, reason tie a must
12.31.06 (10:10 am) [edit]By Emily Stimpson
12/28/2006
12/28/2006
Our Sunday Visitor
HUNTINGTON, Ind. (Our Sunday Visitor) – There are many words that could be used to describe Richard Dawkins. Subtle is not one of them. "[The God of the Old Testament] is a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully," wrote the Oxford University evolutionist in his most recent best-seller, The God Delusion.
In case that didn't make his thoughts on God clear enough, in recent months Dawkins also compared God to a small child's imaginary friend – a little purple man with a tinkling bell to be exact – and religious education to "brainwashing."
The latter remark was uttered at a conference last November in La Jolla, Calif. That conference, "Beyond Belief: Science, Religion, Reason and Survival," brought together an international collection of scientists who made Dawkins look downright politic.
"The world needs to wake up from its long nightmare of religious belief," proclaimed one of the conference's keynote speakers, Steven Weinberg, a Noble laureate in physics.
"Science is a philosophy of discovery; intelligent design is a philosophy of ignorance," chimed in another speaker, Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of the Hayden Planetarium in New York City and an adviser to the Bush administration on space exploration.
Gearing up
Although most of the speakers at the "Beyond Belief" conference did little more than preach to the choir, their chorus has been singing with increasing fervor and volume as of late. From a flood of books bearing titles such as The End of Faith: Religion, Terror and the Future of Reason to the recent founding of the Center for Inquiry Transnational, a Washington, D.C.-based think tank dedicated to opposing the interference of religion in legislative decision-making, the world of science appears to be gearing up for an all-out assault on the world of religion. But, as the adage goes, appearances can be deceiving.According to author and University of Delaware physicist Stephen Barr, the first deception is the most basic: This seeming war between science and religion is not between science and religion at all, but rather between atheism and religion.
"The problem is atheists, not scientists," said Barr. "There are far more scientists who are religious than scientists who consider themselves opponents of religion."
Barr credits record-high levels of atheism and religious indifference in the West, as well as the specter of religious fundamentalism raised by Islamic jihad, with creating a moment of opportunity that atheists like Dawkins have been quick to seize. And they're seizing it, he said, by repackaging age-old arguments against religion and passing them off as the reasoned conclusions of science.
Science as religion
Barr also believes atheism's longstanding war against religion takes the appearance of a war between science and religion because for many atheists, including those at the La Jolla conference, science is not just science. Rather, it is a religion in its own right, a religion that has the power to free man from disease, hunger and even death.
Real religion, on the other hand, with its moral obligations and ethical imperatives, is an obstacle to the unlimited (and unchecked) scientific progress in which they've put their faith.
"They do not believe that the church proclaims truth, but they are fearful that what it does proclaim as true is contrary to science," said Father Thomas Weinandy, executive director of the Secretariat for Doctrine and Pastoral Practices for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.
"They have a psychological investment in making religion appear as hateful as possible," added Barr.
They also have an investment in stopping those who believe in God from voicing any opinions that differ from their own. That investment has taken concrete form in the recent establishment of the Center for Inquiry Transnational. Founded by the well-known atheist Paul Kurtz, the center lobbies against the influence of religion in legislative decision-making on Capitol Hill.
According to Kurtz, the center doesn't deny the rights of Christians to have an opinion on issues such as abortion, stem-cell research and AIDS prevention, he just doesn't think they have any business inserting their opinions on those issues into policy debates.
"We believe in liberty of expression," Kurtz told Our Sunday Visitor. "But to impose a moral perspective on these issues, issues that are matters of scientific inquiry, is illegitimate."
Mythical war
Unlike scientists such as Kurtz who fear that religious faith will undermine scientific truth, the Catholic Church doesn't fear that scientific truth will undermine religious faith. In fact, experience has shown just the opposite.
"Modern science – especially physics and cosmology – have shown us how deep the beauty and orderliness of the universe are," said Barr.
From ecclesiastics such as St. Albert the Great, Jesuit Father Angelo Secci (the founder of modern astrophysics) and the Augustinian monk Gregor Mendel (the father of genetics) to devout Catholic laymen like Copernicus, Blaise Paschal and Louis Pasteur, centuries of Catholics have demonstrated the compatibility of faith and science. And the church sees no reason for that to change anytime soon.
"Whatever is true ultimately finds its source in God," Father Weinandy said. "So there can't be a conflict between what is scientifically true and what is revealed as true in revelation."
For now, with Dawkins' book still climbing the best-seller list, and Kurtz's public-policy group lobbying hard in Washington, the mythical war between science and religion will more than likely continue to make headlines. But in the end, Barr expects the most lasting damage caused by Dawkins and company's war will be damage to the reputations of those waging it.
"In the long run," he said, "fanatics always hurt their own cause."
- - -
Emily Stimpson writes from Ohio for Our Sunday Visitor.
The caw
12.31.06 (9:54 am) [edit]
The Raven jet black
Cawed loudly,
Breaking the winter silence.
In winter months their call echoes,
The sky empty of other songs,
Melancholy in its timber.
Bringing to mind images of emptiness,
Sadness,
Life’s losses never to be found,
Such a sound the Raven’s Caw,
Healing in allowing remembrance to flow.
Anything underneath
12.30.06 (8:16 am) [edit]
When you dig up the floor of reality, what lies beneath?
The floorboards on which we stand, does it cover only nothingness?
Does all energy dissipate?
Will the universe cool down and simply stop in the artic cold of deep space?
When my eyes finally close for the last time,
When my hour glass shatters, what remains?
Is eternal oblivion really the answer?
Eternal what?
Oblivion is not even darkness,
Darkness is something,
Nothing is simply no-thing.
Is God possible?
Can something come out of nothingness?
Is nothingness even possible, since things exist?
All of creation is contingent, unnecessary,
Its roots buried in existence deep, are they feed by existent necessary?
All things flow from something,
From what does the singularity flow?
That first cosmic orgasm when all things exploded into being.
Each must come up with his or her own answer,
For both faith is necessary,
We are not meant to know with certainty.
Uncertainty in different degrees is the lot of us all,
A response is needed.
Not to respond is a response, it can’t be helped.
Choose or don’t, both are choices.
Isolation
12.29.06 (3:13 pm) [edit]
The noise was extreme, as Ed and I entered the restaurant at the height of the lunch hour. All the booths were in use, so we went up to the counter, sat down and waited for the waiter to come and take our order. The place was extremely busy, with the staff behind the counter doing a kind of ballet, trying not to bump into each other and perhaps spill the order that they were all carrying. The cooks were frenetic with movements, quick, as they tried to keep up with the avalanche of orders constantly coming their way; but they seemed able to keep up with it all. Adrenaline was pumping so they were all in hyper mode, laughing, joking; rushing round like chickens with their heads actually on….. everything was running smoothly. I would think that after the rush some of them would simply collapse from exhaustion.
As I was waiting in this maelstrom of loud talking, music blaring and the cash register clanging. I noticed on the other side of the counter a woman, perhaps in her late 40’s, past her prime, with a hint of her past beauty still there, sitting by herself. Normally that does not get my attention, but with her I could see a difference. She seemed surrounded by some kind of invisible bubble…..there was a kind of silence surrounding her. Now all silence is not good, some denotes isolation, being cut off, and I think that is what drew me to her. She seemed oblivious to the hustle around her, pensive, inward, and talking to either herself, or perhaps to some invisible companion that only she could see. For some reason after I saw her, she was the only person in the restaurant that I really paid attention to. After she finished she came up to the register still taking to herself, gave the waitress her credit card, not looking at anyone, with eyes averted from any human contact. After she paid, she just stood there for awhile, and then left.
I know when these experiences happen, there is an awful lot of projection going on, and perhaps some transference when the emotion is powerful. I found myself feeling pity, something I hate, since I think people deserve something more than that, but there you have it, that was what I was feeling. I tend to only have this feeling, or perhaps this emotion, towards strangers, people I don’t know. I know people who have serious mental and emotional problems but don’t usually feel pity for them. I may feel admiration for their inner strength and courage, or perhaps frustration at times because of the cycles I can be caught up with them, but not pity. I reserve that for strangers only. Perhaps it is because I don’t know them and because of that I limit their depth and humanity to that one moment, when they seem vulnerable and alone. Without seeing the other areas of their lives that would give me a more balanced picture of whom they are.
Also my pity could be simply based on what I mentioned above, projection, something being reflected back on me, that I need to look at. Strangers do that for me……..A more or less clean slate, where my soul puts something out there for me to consider. After all of my reactions and judgments of others do come from me, from my inner world, perhaps trying to get me to see myself in others, things that I would not normally want to look at. A mirror, is that all it is? Well yes, perhaps much of what I see in others is just that. They have a hook that I can hang the picture on and if not too frighten or enamored by it, perhaps I can learn something.
Loneliness, isolation, is something that many people struggle with. Isolation or the tendency to isolate is what I work with. I tend to expend a lot of energy around people and then need a lot of time to regroup, which can at times lead me to isolate in ways that are not always helpful for me, or the people that I work and live with. Perhaps she is a mirror that I need to spend some more time with, delving into my own separateness that I at times bring on myself.
Isolation is not solitude, anymore than silence always leads to communion with God. Sometimes silence is just that, a nothing leading nowhere. No inner communion, no creative outlet, just nothing.
The smile
12.28.06 (7:17 pm) [edit]
A smile often hides what is deep,
Secrets kept, keeping others at bay,
Language not known to express the joy or pain
Felt from the center of the soul.
Healing, wounding, consumes the soul
Seeking ways to express what is felt,
Frustration often the fruit in finding someone to listen.
Yes so much hidden behind a simple smile.
Our depth is perhaps infinite connecting us to God,
Prayer being instinctive when words fail to arise,
Only the infinite can take the joy and pain;
Understanding all,
Without a word being spoken.
Real
12.27.06 (7:36 pm) [edit]
It is more important to be alive than holy,
To be open to others rather than pious,
To be a sinner rather than a prude,
To be aware of oneself before judging others.
The greatest saint and the lowest sinner,
Brothers and sisters journeying together,
Pilgrims on the rocky path of life.
Perhaps in God's eyes not so far apart,
Each has depths unseen where grace does its work,
Hidden,
In secret,
The chaos of life the binding force for it all.
We are told not to judge the heart for a reason,
The heart is hidden from others,
Our own heart a paradox of conflicting desires,
Aspiration,
Each life littered with failure, regret, the need for mercy.
So with gentleness approach others,
They are but reflections of who we really are,
Mirrors, reflecting back to us our own Masks,
The light and darkness we cannot face
Reflected in their faces.Passage
12.27.06 (8:09 am) [edit]
There are many rites of passage that most people go through as they journey down the road of life. Some of these passages are pleasant, others not so much….. then of course there are those that can terrify. I remember my first day of school like it was yesterday, 53 years ago. To say I was scared is an understatement, but I went, mostly because I had no choice, parents have a way of convincing children that they need to move forward.Also beneath the fear there was also an excitement and the knowledge that I really had to leave the home nest and venture into the world. For me that first day was a big change, and I doubt that I am alone experiencing it that way.
There are many others of course, little milestones in life that let one know that time is moving on faster than desired. I can remember lying in bed just before graduation, in 1967, thinking about what I was going to do. I knew that I would go into the military, I was not college material, and being in equal parts excited and terrified. One part could not wait to get out into the world, the other wanting to crawl back into some kind of warm, safe, predictable womb, but that was impossible, so I joined the Navy.
The list is long, I have had many rites of passage, some big others small, but each very important since they demand some kind of response from me. Sort of a fork in the road, evoking an inner response that will decide how I will relate to the world…. being open, or closed, to the experience being presented to me, at times in ways that I would rather not
have.
The aging process has its own doorways that must be passed. Aging is not about becoming old in the archetypal understanding of many. Old age is not about the inner spark aging, it is about accepting the aging body with grace, embracing all the experiences that come with it. I remember the first time I was offered a senior citizen discount. They start at 55 in restaurants, and at first I was taken back, since I was only 53, but it was like a blip on the screen. I guess I knew it was coming and when it did no problem. Besides I have a very long grey/white beard, balding, a little oversight so I guess it adds a few years, and in no way am I going to get rid of the beard. Over the years people have told me that I hide behind it, at first I was defensive about it, but now, well so what?
One of best my friends is going through such a rites of passage at this time. He has been told he has a potentially serious health problem that is making him nervous. Sort of making him aware of his mortality in a way not done before, and it is causing him some concern, however he will get through it of that I have no doubt. Soon it will be my turn, if not this year, perhaps in the next 10, which will fly by as years seem to do. Hopefully I will be able to get through the next rite of passage with grace, and if not that will be ok, that is also part of the journey. My inner world is messy, and sometimes my responses to life are not the best or most mature, but the journey continues does it not?
12.26.06 (5:55 pm) [edit]
In the morning the tree stood proud
For all to see.
Old, twisted from years of fighting the elements,
Trunk long and strong with limbs thick and rugged, spreading shade,
Roots deep in the earth, moist and fertile.
Centuries it existed alone,
Unchallenged,
Marked with wounds from storms,
Fiery strikes from the sky,
Its beauty deepened by such.
Until one day it came,
Its destiny,
Winds strong,
Clouds dark and low,
Churning in dark beauty,
Lighting came
Struck in shattering strength,
Leaving only smoking ruins
Of what once was mighty.
In the morning the tree stood proud
For all to see.
Old, twisted from years of fighting the elements,
Trunk long and strong with limbs thick and rugged, spreading shade,
Roots deep in the earth, moist and fertile.
Centuries it existed alone,
Unchallenged,
Marked with wounds from storms,
Fiery strikes from the sky,
Its beauty deepened by such.
Until one day it came,
Its destiny,
Winds strong,
Clouds dark and low,
Churning in dark beauty,
Lighting came
Struck in shattering strength,
Leaving only smoking ruins
Of what once was mighty.
Hidden treasure
12.25.06 (4:13 pm) [edit]
Simple, so obvious,
Yet often overlook.....what is really sought,
Often in ways self destructive,
As if we also seek to block that which is desired and longed for.
Sin, or ignorance, labels do not matter,
The fruit is the same.
Love,
The treasure hidden,
Is what we are made for
Buried in a field of confusion,
Longings that really build walls,
Deepening loneliness,
Until, if ever, what is needed is learned.
Love first,
Give,
Seek to understand and love comes,
It grows in fields of freedom and paradox,
Fear, put side and pain and joy both accepted.
Secret
12.24.06 (12:25 pm) [edit] In a small little known town,
Some asked this with anger, Demanding an answer their eyes hard with disdain, For not all allowed his joy to enter their hearts. He looked at those who questioned, Sadness in his eyes, It is no secret for all know the answer, Lean close and I will tell you no lie. So they leaned and he whispered this into their ears: God is a child. |
The last seven years
12.23.06 (8:46 am) [edit]
I suppose that the last 7 years have been extremely interesting and enlightening for me and I have the internet to thank for that. In 1999 I sat down in front of a computer, learned how to connect to the internet and dove right in. Within a couple of days I was downloading, uploading, emailing, and getting drunk over all the information that was available to me by the simple click of an icon, or the typing in of an web address. It was like my brain became global; well I guess it did. For me the internet is information shared, stored, and if not then available upon request. I can’t imagine what it would be like not to have it.
Since I am interested in the beliefs or non-beliefs of others, I overdosed in going to sites to study and interact with people, which would have been impossible for me to meet just a few years before. In fact I must of downloaded hundreds of pages of information to read and study. I guess I sort of gorged myself doing this, I was like a kid in a candy shop discovering taste that I never knew existed.
When I got on the web I did not know that it would lead me to try my skill at writing. I needed to do this because I simply wanted to communicate with the many diverse people I discovered, and also wanted to express my own thoughts on things, my beliefs, etc. It was hard going at first. Like many folks, I can get the overall picture pretty fast, perhaps understand complex thoughts, but did not have the skill to break them down and express them in ways that could be understood. Since for most of my life writing did not play an important role, it was difficult for me at first. I would sit over the keyboard, thinking, trying to find a way to express myself and feel blocked. Not because there were no ideas, there were simply too many. So the process was slow, it took a couple of years before I could even begin to feel comfortable with writing, and I am still struggling at times.
I dialogued with Atheist, Wiccans, Satanist, Setians, Randites, Fundamentalist, and other Christians of different faith traditions. One thing I have learned, each group has the same sort of people in them. Some are easy to communicate with, others not. Rigidity is not the something that only some types of Fundamentalist have. I have met atheist who would put Bob Jones to shame, and others who were simply interested in what others thought or believed. It also brought up to my attention my own prejudices. Prejudices are forever, but once known their power to manipulate from the shadows, is curtailed a great deal, if not totally.
I have also learned that people’s beliefs cannot be changed by arguing, or belittling. I have learned this from experience. Since the above does not work for me, I assumed that it will not work for others. We are all outsiders when it comes to the beliefs of those different than out own, so misconceptions are rampant when it comes to expressing ones thoughts on said beliefs. I often think that those who attack me for my beliefs miss the point, “they just don’t get it”. I suppose atheist, Satanist, Wiccians, perhaps everyone think the same thing. It is sort a circle of people yelling at each other, thinking they sound rational and logical when dealing with the beliefs of others. Even if I belonged say to one of the groups and left the system, I would then be an outsider and the experiences that led me to leave would make me a less than an objective critic.
Criticisms from outsiders can be helpful, but limited. It was difficult to understand some of the people I dialogued with, but when I listened my preconceived ideas were more often than not proved false. None have ever convinced me to leave my faith, but I think my appreciation of others has deepened with my journey.
To end on a dark note: I often feel that ignorance is the norm. Cultural faith, or for that matter cultural non-belief needs to be overcome. We can no longer be carried by simply living with people who think the way we do, there are now too many others who think otherwise. Even on the net ghettos are forming were only like minded people meet, when this happens a false sense of infallibility can be fostered which really leads to a form of insanity, and it is just not Christians who do this. I think what can connect us is the understanding that most of us are seeking the truth, we may just come up with different answers to that quest. Beliefs are often hard won, best to let each struggle with these questions, and if a group is found where a feel of home is accomplished good for them. For those who don’t, we need to listen to them also. I think we each have of a part of a very large puzzle.
A great weakness of our species is that we think we can figure things out, I am not sure that is true, but we are wired to try anyway. It is not an easy task. Dialogue can often lead to doubt, but for the most part that is only the mind processing new information, that in the end could be a source of deepening, also broadening, what one already believes. Fear leads to walls that can only get higher and thicker, the more doubt is denied. Opinions are cheap, knowledge has a price, and surety is one of them.
Paradox, the more one knows leads to an understanding of how little that really is. People are deep, complex creative and capable of great insight.....and yes often irrational. A potent mix, deserving of respect, not scorned or hated, but something truly appreciated.
Stigmata
12.21.06 (7:16 pm) [edit] In the souls of those we meet, Addictions, Loneliness, colder and darker than an artic night, Promises not kept, Passion for union never experienced, Harm done to others and of course to oneself, These are the fruits of the invisible stigmata. Badges of God’s closeness however obscure, Sharing in Christ suffering since God is now one with man. Our sufferings while in darkness Are observed and one with the light, Each suffers once, God suffers with all, The why-ness of all I have not a clue, Faith is a road in its own way just as dark as those who do not believe, As the heart grows, Oneness is it own conclusion Allowing one to rest in faith in the eternal, The other, The nameless one without form, Revealed in a way we could understand Simply as infinite love,
|
With caution tread
12.21.06 (8:10 am) [edit]
The doe stood still,
As I slowly walked by that moonlight night,
Her graceful body finely sculptured,
Streamlined,
With perfect curves.
The illusion of delicacy created by its simple beauty and symmetry,
A deadly illusion if tested,
For strong of muscle and sharp of hoof,
With razor edges sharpened is she weapon-ed,
Created for either defense or flight,
To a degree perfected beyond man’s simple powers.
A creature wild, apart from our projections of gentle beauty,
Survival its only interest,
Any threat to be fled from or ground down,
Until it is a danger no more.
So with caution tread before this beautiful creature!
Closer than our skin
12.20.06 (8:00 am) [edit] Allow thoughts to cease and simply rest,
The mother of all that is, |
Open
12.19.06 (10:46 am) [edit]
Love cuts the deepest wound of all,
Forging pathways into the depths of the heart
Striking down barriers built with such care,
Walls high crumble down
Surrounding the lover with its ruins,
Making vulnerable that which was once hidden
Now naked before the observer.
Powerless before the beloved,
Open.
The gift of love is without price
Giving power supreme to the one sought after,
To hurt,
Or heal,
Making the lover's life a heaven or a hell,
Perhaps more common a purgatory.
No matter, pain and ecstasy are inseparable.
Loves gifts are double edged.
Treat gently those who love you,
Be kind to those for whom it cannot be returned,
For the pain often cannot be escaped,
The anger and rage of love coldly rejected ,or used ,however can
Snow day
12.18.06 (8:54 am) [edit]
It was a typical rainy winter day in February 1980 and I was making my delivery run. The day was dreary, but dreary works for me. What some call dreary, I simply experience as restful, peaceful; I find the dark days easy to take. Well it could not simply stay a rainy winter day, it had to start snowing. Now I find snow dreary in the popular sense of the term. Don’t know why, but snow makes my insides cold, in ways that I don’t like. So right after it started snowing, quite hard, you know the kind with the very large flakes, that looks like God is scratching his beard…..yeah that its, dandruff, it looked like dandruff. Meanwhile the temperature is dropping and I still have a few stops to make. Now let me tell you, in Atlanta snow is bad news if you are out and about; in ways that can’t be touched the way rain can cause trouble for drivers. Today they have some plows, but back then, nope; at least I never saw one. You tell Atlanta that there is three inches of snow coming and the stores are packed with people getting ready for the big “storm”.
Well in any case, I was driving down Moreland Ave., mumbling to myself, too much as I often do, when I noticed something very strange about two blocks down the street. Even though the dandruff was falling heavily, I could in the distance see something bright orange, and I thought it had to be a coat. As I drew closer I noticed that it was an elderly woman, perhaps in her middle to late eighties, slowly treading her way down the almost empty street, with the weather getting worse by the minute, and the wind was even starting to pick up. As I slowly passed I could see that she was struggling, and I started to become worried about her. I could not stop, I had some cars behind me, so I kept going and wished her luck. Well wishing her luck did not work. Being a tad compulsive about being a caregiver, I started to talk to myself about what I should do. Well in the end I decided to turn around and see if she would accept a lift from me. I was in a Super Van, I had a very long red beard, and my hair, was what some would call unkempt. So I thought, sure she would be thrilled to jump into a truck with someone who looked like he should be wearing leather and on a Harley.
So I passed her again, went up a couple of blocks and turned around. I pulled over about a hundred feet ahead of her as she slowly made her way down the street. So I took a deep breath, got out of the truck, and tried to look harmless and small. She walked up to me and stopped, and I asked her where she was going. She told me she was trying to get to her beautician; she had a 10 AM appointment. I asked her how far it was, and it was another block down the street, which for her, in that weather was a long way, and her chances of falling were getting more certain by the minute. So I asked her if I could give her a lift. To me surprise she said yes. I opened the door to the van, which I found out right away was too high for her to get in on her own. So she let me lift her up and put her in. We got in and I started down the block, trying to find a way to turn around. Well we finally made it back to the place that she was headed, and I again went around and lifted her out onto the sidewalk. As she was walking away I said “thanks for letting me help you, many people would not trust me enough to give them a lift”. She turned, looked me up and down, smiled and said with a straight face: “ Oh I am from New York, I am not afraid of anything”. She turned, and left me laughing, as I am sure she meant to do. She also promised to call a taxi when she was finished with her appointment.
So I continued on my journey, my deliveries, and for some reason the snow did not make my insides cold in ways that I did not like. I actually felt warmth. That day the snow did not bother me at all; though only for that day.
Empty oblivion
12.17.06 (9:41 am) [edit] The soul young in world were all souls are such, A place were children play, In ways not often understood by the form that it takes, Often rough, Violent, Pain enough for everyone and all are invited, Yet joy also, Often eclipsed by the childishness often displayed. None escape the sand box in which the games are played out. In a world were doubt is pervasive, Even true believers, Though often denied, Or perhaps it goes unnoticed protected by fear, Harbor dark crevices where doubt sets up its tent, Arising in the deep night when the dark closes in. In such a world the young soul steps forward, To the edge of the cliff over looking a deep abyss. On the edge perched like a strange sort of bird, Looking down at only empty oblivion, What the souls fears is its final home, Yet doubt of a different genus, Has set up its home, Allowing some hope to linger no matter how small. Raising up its arms, The young soul full of fear and unbelief, Yet hope a seed that is slowly sprouting, Weak, Yet there prodding, the soul to simply drop, Into empty oblivion. Suddenly the soul falls forward with eyes wide open, As it fell rapidly in to the darkness below, Cold all embracing, eager, to envelop the one plummeting. The young soul wailed thinking what he thought was true, Empty oblivion being his true home. Waiting for his simple ending to occur, A kind of peace that nothingness gives. At the height of darkness when the cold was unbearable, Suddenly, Unbelievably, The young one fell into the light, Bright yet not harsh, Warm, Inviting, Bottomless, Formless, Yet love was embracing the doubting young soul. The loved swelled from regions unknown, For the young soul itself was without form or boundaries, Agony and ecstasy one and the same, The crescendo building until the soul thought it would simply explode. One thing it said at the last, When faced with this infinite embrace, “I did not know, nor did I understand”. It then awoke gasping for air. Sheets twisted on the bed, Body covered with the sheen of sweat; Again in the world of young souls where doubt is persuasive. Like an old friend it prods us on, To explore and think, To face fears, Doubt, is a true friend to both believers and those who don’t. |
A rock's gift
12.16.06 (6:01 pm) [edit]
A rock’s gift
Smooth and round,
Its beauty replete with times wearing,
Sitting quiet among other stones,
Yet different if only a little,
Its neighbors’ so much like itself,
Obvious it seems, but no truth therein
If time is spent in scrying its surface
Soon it seems unique in what is etched on the surface reveals,
Reflecting back what is only projected from within.
A pleasure to hold,
Its coolness refreshing,
Bringing to mind soothing thoughts
Of peace and oneness with what is around me.
Such is a rock’s gift to those who take time to observe.
Cold morning
12.16.06 (8:47 am) [edit]
The cold morning beckoned me from my bed early,
Embraced by the quiet, waiting,
Cloudless sky deep blue, soothing in its beauty infinite.
Stars hidden by the silver light of the winter moon
Casting my shadow behind me,
The silence deep allowing the mind to rest.
Before me the path bathed in beauty,
Cast in silver upon the dark pathway,
Slow steps, frequent stops,
With only the moment real.
Courage and humor
12.15.06 (8:21 am) [edit]
In the mid-seventies I used to deliver bread to some of the stores in Atlanta. One of my favorite stops was at a Big Star store at Ansley Mall. The mall was situated in a predominantly Jewish section of Atlanta with a large population of elderly. I would often wonder about the many oldsters that I would see there, most of them quiet; either shopping or sitting outside waiting for the bus, talking among them selves, enjoying each others company. Others seemed lost in their thoughts, some lonely, and a few that were obviously in the early stages of dementia.
There was one very sweet, short and lively Jewish lady that I would see every week when I delivered my bread. It was on a Tuesday, when I made my stop at this particular store and I guess she always went shopping that day around 10 AM, the time I usually arrived to make my deliveries. She always bought Jewish Rye and would sometimes ask me to reach up and get a loaf for her. She must have been in her 80’s and always had something funny to say to me.
One morning I arrived at my isle and started to fix up my section on the shelf allotted to me. There she stood, well dressed as usual, but this day she seemed a bit pensive, so I decided not to disturbed her thoughts. She was talking to herself, complaining that” yet again they raised the price of Jewish Rye” and she was trying to decide if she should buy it. It was a nickel more than the week before, so I surmised that she was on a very limited income. I was a little disturbed about this, not greatly, but was saddened that our old people have to often struggle alone in their last years, with no one to help, at least as far as their limited income goes. So she was talking about this with herself, when suddenly she brighten up, pulled up her shoulders and said just a little louder: “well sweetheart, you are not going to be around much longer, so we might as well get what we want”…&helli p;with that she got the bread, looked over at me, wished me a good day and walked off.
I was for some reason, on that day just over 30 years ago, touched by her ability to find humor in her situation and her ability to embrace life with grace and I guess spunk. As she was walking down the isle towards the check out counter I began to see her in a different, deeper light; she seemed taller, younger and still very much in charge of her life.
Humor is often unappreciated. It is truly something great. The ability to perhaps gently laugh at ourselves, a prod to keep us going and to simply live life more fully……&nbs p; Courage and humor or so common that it is often ignored and bypassed, but for some reason, on that day, I was deeply touched by a little old woman with deep wells of humor in her young soul and the courage to continue living with grace.
Most memories are buried deep, consigned to oblivion difficult to extract. Others like this one become for me a doorway into the transcendent, caught unawares as I often am, a bright candle in a large dark cavern showing me the way.
Nothing to be done
12.13.06 (4:29 pm) [edit] I saw her one morning at the airport, waiting for someone to pick her up, lost among the hurrying throng that swirled around her, unnoticed, and soon forgotten if even seen. Why she attracted my attention I do not know, but she did, and I guess that is enough. She was plain, poorly dressed, and she appeared so tired that if she dropped to the ground and took a nap, it would not have surprised me. Sadness rolled off of her like cold from ice, fog like, it muted her effect on her surroundings, almost invisible, shrunken even, and perhaps a skill she learned when young. Perhaps for her it was better not to be noticed.
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My friend William
12.13.06 (9:33 am) [edit] My friend William Slowly the disease gains it deadly ground, Thinking he is somewhere else. The loss of short term memory at times a blessing, All however is not dark since by love he is surrounded, Even if who we are is often lost by his progression, He stills walks with rhythm and soul, He still smiles easily, Responds to kindness with the thankfulness of a child, A childlike spirit he always had, He still loves chocolate, A kiss from God for those who understand, Such a delight for him, now as his life slowly winds down. Something new, a gift, and a love, he did not have in younger years. Now making up for lost time, like a child in a candy store. Yes he gets confused and lost at times, He reaches out for help and it is always there, His gift, simply allowing us, to show him the love, and respect, he richly deserves |
Will I be washed away?
12.12.06 (8:16 am) [edit] Will I be washed away? I wish my heart was open I sense cracks forming in the dikes, In so many ways communicated tears. Expressing anger, Gently flowing for some, Self control abandoned, The freedom of expression no longer denied. Will I will I be washed away? Strange me writing this, For in younger days I would consider it weakness, Now I know strength is needed for salty tears. A gift I yet posses, Hidden behind walls high and strong, Perhaps tears are different for men? If so, if this is true, It is a heavy burden indeed. Perhaps one needs to be willing to be washed away. |
Furious pursuit
12.11.06 (12:07 pm) [edit] 
Review
Praise for Furious Pursuit
“These days, I’m more inclined to think God’s anthropology–what God thinks about us–packs more heft and punch than our theology–what we think about God. Tim King and Frank Martin seem to think so too, and have written a book that draws us into the wideness and deepness of God’s heart, showing us His fierce and tender affection even for sinners like me. King and Martin remind us that the good news has nothing to do with how good we are, only how loved.”
– Mark Buchanan, author of The Rest of God and The Holy Wild
“The message of this book can’t be stated often enough: God loves us. Oh yes, he does. Furious Pursuit shows us that God’s love is active and vibrant and on the chase for you and me. Others have said this before, but Furious Pursuit takes us one step further.”
–Scot McKnight, author of The Jesus Creed and Embracing Grace
“If you’re sick and tired of spiritual to-do lists, religious shoulds and oughts, and the self-hatred that comes from feeling unacceptable, you’ll find in Furious Pursuit better news of a better story. Tim King and Frank Martin have given us powerful truth, well-told."
–Brian McLaren, pastor, author of A New Kind of Christian and The Secret Message of Jesus
Book Description
A Sacred Journey Toward the Heart of God
Go deep into the things of God by allowing God to go deep into the things of your life!
In your relationship with God, there is a romance to be embraced, a courtship to be nurtured, and a marriage to be consummated. And this relationship demands a level of intentionality. Of learning to walk with God daily, trusting in his goodness and mercy, resting in his faithfulness. Of allowing his furious pursuit to transform the nature of your relationship to him.
Inside, you’ll encounter such transforming truths as:
·What it means to be pursued by Love
·God’s quest for a willing heart
·Navigating the “thorn stories” of pain, loneliness, and rejection
·Embracing the vows of a Sacred Lover
·Accepting God’s Divine Proposal
·Recovering the Larger Story of God’s unrelenting faithfulness
Take advantage of the life-changing tools and resources, including questions for individual and group study, a daily Conversations & Reflections Journal, and daily inspirational messages available at www.furiouspursuit.com. Let God take responsibility for your relationship with him, so you can experience the freedom and acceptance that are already yours. Frank Martin and Tim King invite you on a journey of personal and spiritual transformation, a journey toward fully embracing the Furious Pursuit of God!
The companion workbook to Furious Pursuit by Frank Martin and Tim King
About the Author
Tim King is a former pastor, marketing executive, and magazine editor who maintains an extensive speaking schedule. He is codirector of Furious Faith Ministries and the author of two previous books, Give Me This Mountain and A House That Stands. Tim and his wife, Gwynne, are the parents of three and live in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Frank Martin is codirector of Furious Faith Ministries and the author or coauthor of more than fourteen books, having collaborated with Nicky Cruz, Robert Schuller, Wally Armstrong, Dr. Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, and others. He has served nine years as a Family Commentary writer for Dr. James Dobson and Focus on the Family. He lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado, with his wife, Ruthie, and their two children
Path of darkness
12.10.06 (6:16 pm) [edit]
The light is eternal often hidden beneath the pain,
Hope lies buried under layers of despair,
Fear fed by courage unused,
Deep in the void is the seed of faith.
Dark the path blinded by the light,
We stumbled while racing towards the finish line
'Other'
12.09.06 (7:17 pm) [edit] God as ‘Other’,
The abused, The outcast, Souls sculpted by the ravages of life, Cruel is seems infinite love, Understanding I have little, I grope and question, Sometimes doubt Yet Faith in God’s love A gift I do have, That no darkness can take away, Such is the grace of faith. Those outside are no less pursued or loved, Their life’s journey more hidden, Obscure, Yet nonetheless real. Failure part of the journey, Darkness for sure, Pain a plenty, Yet God’s love enfolds it all, None are apart from the embrace. Such is infinite love, ‘Other’. |
'Other'
12.09.06 (7:09 pm) [edit]| God as ‘Other’,
The abused, The outcast, Souls sculpted by the ravages of life, Cruel is seems infinite love, Understanding I have little, I grope and question, Sometimes doubt Yet Faith in God’s love A gift I do have, That no darkness can take away, Such is the grace of faith. Those outside are no less pursued or loved, Their life’s journey more hidden, Obscure, Yet nonetheless real. Failure part of the journey, Darkness for sure, Pain a plenty, Yet God’s love enfolds it all, None are apart from the embrace. Such is infinite love, ‘Other’. |
When the time comes
12.09.06 (8:46 am) [edit] When the Christian finally comes to understand Or shanty Iris, Hateful labels,
|
Rites of passage
12.08.06 (11:18 am) [edit] Rites of passage I can remember the exact moment that I finally came to the realization that everything my parents told me was not true. It was not earth shattering, at least as far as trust in my parents went, for I guess I understood on some level why they did not tell me the whole truth at the time. Also I already knew, I was just not allowing it to come to full conciseness, I needed a shock to bring it to full awareness. I was ten when it happened, just turned ten in fact. Also we had just moved to Panama, Canal Zone, a few short weeks earlier. While the moment of truth is very clear, branded into my mind as most rites of passage are, what actually led up to that moment is a little cloudy. I know that I was being chased by my twin sisters, Judy and Jane, not an unusual occurrence, they were always chasing me or one of the others, and they certainly had a big choice, since at that time they had seven of use to choose from. Georgia, the youngest, would not be born for another year or so. In any case, I ran into my parent’s bedroom, and headed for their closet, hoping to be able to conceal myself there. I opened the door, pushed back some clothes, hoping to hide behind them, though I knew it would do no good. Both of my sisters where at that time like blood hounds, no escape from them once they were on the hunt, of course no one wanted to stay hidden too long, what is the point in that for little children. It was then that my world changed, the texture of reality got a little more focused for me. Not something I really wanted at that time of the year, but there you have it; those rites of passage show up at the worst times. There behind the hanging clothes where bags of presents, hidden by my parents until Christmas Eve, when they would sneak them under the tree while we were asleep. It only took a second for it to sink in, and like I said earlier, on some level I knew, I was just keeping it just below awareness. Well let’s say Gabriel’s trumpet sounded, and my world ended, only to be replaced by a larger one, though at the time it felt like something was taken away, so it was not a pleasant experience. Just at that moment my two little monkey sisters came in, laughing and giggling, looking for big brother so they could tickle me to death. That is what they did when they caught up to you. They ran us all down like that, no mercy, just laughing and giggling and tickling, that is what twin sister do when they are six, and they were very good at it. So time froze for a second, things seemed to slow down, and I had to figure out quick how to hide what I just discovered…&hellip ;…that Santa Claus was in reality my parents. So I quickly pushed back the clothes and charged my sisters and down we went outside the closet, with them tickling me and me laughing, though the laugh had a tinge of sadness to it. I just wanted them to have a few more years of believing in the magic of Santa, and I knew that in time they, like all children, would wake up to the fact that Christmas was not really about Santa, or gifts, but something deeper. Something lost; something gained, that is what rites of passage are all about. Childlike naivety is beautiful in children, and letting go of it can be painful, but there you have it. Life is brutal in its carrying out the maturing process, and in the end I guess for the most part we are better off for it, though at times I miss that special time when Christmas had a magic quality to it. Not something I can go back to, nor want, but just a pleasant memory. |
The young woman
12.07.06 (12:42 pm) [edit] |
| The young woman came and sat beside me, Tired, care worn, Worry sketched across her face From the burden she lovingly bore. The bundle small, Sleeping, Unknowing of the love surrounding it, Nor the danger it was in. The child three days old, Seeming perfect in its repose, Content and safe in its mother’s arms. Simple folk, Grandmother, Mother, and daughter, A trinity of feminine hope and love, Poured out knowing the horror that may come. An endless void of grief and sorrow, If the circle shattered, By death cruel and merciless in its hunger, Devoid of compassion or hope. For a time, shattering faith, Light, Hidden, Seemingly lost. That is what mothers do, Love, Willing to pay any price, Dues paid in a world such as ours. Simple really, Though it depths profound, A glimpse of the infinite In a painfully finite world, Where life often makes no sense, With only one ending secure. |
Opening the gate
12.05.06 (7:20 pm) [edit]
The entering…..
Opening the gate never passed,
Exposing paths never trod,
Brings fear and doubt.
Seeking truth does that,
Leading gently to greater depth and understanding,
In the end, knowing how little is known or understood.
Humility, the fruit of not clinging, allowing truth to grow.
Seeing others on the journey, fellow travelers well met,
Seekers of truth above all else.
Ideas of God let go of,
Childish projection, allowed dying,
Blinded by the light of the infinite.
In the desert wandering,
Markers removed obscuring the way,
Yet trust deep and abiding.
The heart expanded embracing all,
All present in the prayer presented,
Only brothers and sisters left, each pilgrims on the road.
Before God all are beloved
Side by side
12.04.06 (5:30 pm) [edit]The world within is a nation unto itself,
Fractured society it often seems,
Elements of destruction,
Also the desire for growth,
Live side by side often at war,
A ragtag army of malcontents
Seeking to drown those who are wise,
Who calmly whisper their counsel.
Complete satiation from fulfilled desire denied,
Only deeper hunger remains,
Worse still a deadly lethargy feeding off emptiness,
Driving one to seek with deeper desperation,
Something, anything, that can’t be found by well worn paths.
The inner tumult deafening in its demands,
Though what is needed already known,
From ignored wisdom acquired.
Pious sentiment best let go of.
Seeking relief apart from what must be done,
Doomed.
Only wounds faced can be healed,
Soothing ointments only cover what is beneath,
The slow rot of self destructive acts embraced.
The road of faith in darkness seeking,
That which is often feared yet desired…..grace and inner freedom.
The spider web created enmeshing the soul,
Intricate thought seeking untruth,
Wrapped tightly worsened by struggle hopeless,
Yet known after all
A place,
A state,
Known and embraced,
Fear of inner flight, deadening.
Gift offered
12.03.06 (3:44 pm) [edit]
Winter sun in cold air crisp,
Leaves that crunch under every step,
Cool nights with delightful rain,
Winds adding to the beauty of the season.
Stars visible in sky clear of summer mist,
Silent, no sound except the gentle whisper of wind,
Caressing skin in a lovers touch,
Bringing peace as the gift offered.
This moment also His
12.02.06 (4:31 pm) [edit]
This moment so much like the one before,
Yet unique as all moments are,
My blindness keeps me from the newness of this instant,
Which leads to a flatness,
A sameness,
Something that leads to despair.
Pregnant is what each moment is.
Expectant,
If I cannot see that,
Then I am asleep,
Missing the invitation to deeper life,
A transforming relationship beyond all time.
Moments converge,
On the Moment,
The eternal,
In which all time is contained,
It is there,
Now,
That we meet.
In peace or chaos,
In pleasure or in pain,
In joy or sorrow,
In hope or despair,
We are asked to respond to simply what is before us.
God is,
Not always a welcoming thought.
Calls us in the moment,
Closer than our skin and bone,
Deeper in than our souls,
With us on our journey,
Our joy, pain, sorrow, despair also his.
Taken for prudence
12.01.06 (5:25 pm) [edit]Fear is a task master hard to serve,
Offering protection from what life demands,
Back stepping a way of life,
Slowly draining freedom dry,
Into a corner backed into, with only one escape;
Moving forward into life once again, if one dares.
Fear faced, backs down,
With anxiety and anger next to contend with;
A hard road to find peace,
Layer upon layer to discover,
The path to freedom
Not for the faint hearted.
Overly concern of what others think,
When in fact they really don’t.
Think, that is, about others overly much,
Only in passing, like a mist, then forgotten.
This conceit of the fearful, and anxious, and angry,
Much ado about nothing at all, a form of insanity.
So common that it is often taken for prudence, this craziness,
Giving others power that they neither, seek nor want,
The gift given none the less.
So the circle continues with allowing this tyranny to live,
Something really not real,
Unless one gives it life.
Those who gossip not worth the listening,
People often fearful; jealous of what others have,
Or are.
Often petty, mean spirited,
Deserving our pity and compassion
Respect and trust however not.