I am sitting here thinking about how God was presented to me. I never felt his love. I never knew the love first. I was told to get my life right and I was told that I would go to hell, but not that he loved me. The church that I grew up in was a good church, but they struggled to express emotion. Maybe this is why they portrayed God as such a mean and hateful man. They made him into the image of the men they lived with. He had to diminish you to love you and that is so far from the case. I had to go to other churches to find the God of love, and sometimes, on a dark night, I struggle to know if he is there. I wonder how a God defined as love, is not portrayed as love.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
The New Monastic
Who are we who rise long before the sun peeps over the distant hills. We hear the call of the sacred and the beloved. He wakes us up with a thought so pervasive that we fall into conversation like falling into step with an old time friend. The hours pass and we pray. The day ceases and we contemplate. We think about the intimate details of life that he whispers in the evening, when our daily duties are done. Those whispers drive us to sleep just so that it can begin all over again. There is no other life as sweet as this. There is no other endeavor than His. He has taken my body and my soul. Now, he possesses my mind.
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