Mary comes to a place of complete wonder.
Her eyes, her spirit; all are facing him wholly.
No tone of despair, doubt, or regret linger in her voice.
She sees only blessings and thus finds herself in a perpetual cycle humility,
which only causes her to see more clearly.
She is content, ecstatic even, again and again in awe of him.
And not as a means to an end. This is the end: his glory.
In a place of incredible inconvenience to the point of persecution,
Mary can only write praises of his goodness and faithfulness to her.
And she begins to see her life as part of the great promise he showered on his chosen people
hundreds of years before and of which he will only continue to fulfill,
piece by piece, until the whole puzzle has been fully completed.
Give us eyes,
Give us hearts,
Give us words like these.
Luke 1:46-54
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Hi
Dear Friends,
It's been a while, yes? I'm sorry for my absence but it was necessary for a time as blogging had become some sort of obligatory pattern that was beginning to make writing a kind of chore. And then there are seasons in life when I begin to write whole stories in my mind while waiting for the bus or biking to work and there is part of me that needs to share these treasures with others. Sometimes I feel like I may even stop the next person who happens to pass as I burst with thoughts and words upon words, this ever pulsing river of self-expression welling up inside of me.
But good news. In this long lapse of time, I've finally begun to appreciate contemporary dance. have you ever seen one of those performances where you walk out saying "What the hell was that about?" I've had plenty of those moments in college as humanity classes required students to observe and analyze such theatrical debuts but... they always left me a little annoyed, as if a deep, meaningful message was being kept just out of my reach and only the performers had the inside scoop.
But I think I'm starting to get it. There's an odd sense of release when doing something that isn't. supposed. to make. sense. Perhaps this is the easy way out, as centuries of artists have dedicated years weaving detailed themes together just right so as to create an everlasting masterpiece (Go Les Mis). Or perhaps this genre of seemingly "no-meaning" art is a response to our overly stimulated, highly stressful, ever analytic culture where we spend 99% of our brain power just trying to make sense of life. Perhaps that's why the club scene has been so successful; we just want to be in an environment where we can be utterly ridiculous without providing any explanation. Perhaps that's why sometimes we just want to roll on the ground until we're out of breath or bark back to that annoying dog down the street.
What I'm trying to say is.................... dasiodasnjkdbnhkljklnmk.mk.asjdbnjas.
Just kidding. What I'm trying to say is.... it's about the process! Yes, I think I'm really starting to get it.
It's been a while, yes? I'm sorry for my absence but it was necessary for a time as blogging had become some sort of obligatory pattern that was beginning to make writing a kind of chore. And then there are seasons in life when I begin to write whole stories in my mind while waiting for the bus or biking to work and there is part of me that needs to share these treasures with others. Sometimes I feel like I may even stop the next person who happens to pass as I burst with thoughts and words upon words, this ever pulsing river of self-expression welling up inside of me.
But good news. In this long lapse of time, I've finally begun to appreciate contemporary dance. have you ever seen one of those performances where you walk out saying "What the hell was that about?" I've had plenty of those moments in college as humanity classes required students to observe and analyze such theatrical debuts but... they always left me a little annoyed, as if a deep, meaningful message was being kept just out of my reach and only the performers had the inside scoop.
But I think I'm starting to get it. There's an odd sense of release when doing something that isn't. supposed. to make. sense. Perhaps this is the easy way out, as centuries of artists have dedicated years weaving detailed themes together just right so as to create an everlasting masterpiece (Go Les Mis). Or perhaps this genre of seemingly "no-meaning" art is a response to our overly stimulated, highly stressful, ever analytic culture where we spend 99% of our brain power just trying to make sense of life. Perhaps that's why the club scene has been so successful; we just want to be in an environment where we can be utterly ridiculous without providing any explanation. Perhaps that's why sometimes we just want to roll on the ground until we're out of breath or bark back to that annoying dog down the street.
What I'm trying to say is.................... dasiodasnjkdbnhkljklnmk.mk.asjdbnjas.
Just kidding. What I'm trying to say is.... it's about the process! Yes, I think I'm really starting to get it.
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