I used to be scared of tears. I thought tears meant weakness, an inability to deal with life’s hardships. But one cannot know the supreme value of tears until he has cried his weight in them. It is then that we realize their beauty, strength, and power. Tears are a gift from God. The healing shower to our soul.
These days I cry at the drop of a hat. There’s no shame in my tears. Crying is a beautiful thing. Where there are tears, there is love.
God didn’t create us because He was lonely and needed us. Just as a songwriter doesn’t write a song because he needs the song.
A songwriter writes a song because he needs to communicate himself.
So it is with God, when He created us.
Dogs are masters at forgiveness. They do it instantly, without hesitation. And they never forget. Which makes their forgiveness all the more powerful; they love us despite remembering all the times we’ve hurt them. Much like God, actually. But to take it even further, God also knows every wrong we have yet to commit against Him and He still forgives us…In fact, He already has.
People think dogs are a man’s best friend. But I think they’re more like a reflection, a tiny glimpse into the love that our True Best friend is.
When things grow in a secret garden, they almost always grow mutant.
Too often artists begin to perceive their work as a product of their own intellect; forgetting that the mind is the great deceiver and that creativity is in fact a gift entrusted to the artist. Suddenly and inevitably, the work becomes more about the ego and less about the art itself, changing the person from an artist to an egomaniac. In my opinion, this is the most common danger faced by the artist of today and also the greatest tragedy of art.
It amazes me how many people assume Christianity’s central message to be “Heaven is for good people who get in by good works and hell is for bad people who do bad things.” That is a cultural lie, so far from The Truth, it’s sad.
The best things, they cant be captured. To try is fleeting. They flutter around like butterflies, here one minute gone the next. An ever elusive bunch of things. And when we grasp for them, we miss.
Still, the brain struggles to catch moments, to hold them like hostages in memory and describe them later with words.
But this is what we have hearts for. Our hearts get it. Our hearts know that the best things, can’t be described with mere words. They must be felt. Our hearts know that these things weren’t meant to be captured or even understood, only appreciated.
Dear God,
I don’t know where I’m going nor do I know where I will end up. And just because I think I’m following Your will, doesn’t mean I am. But I believe that the desire alone to please You, pleases You. And I hope that at least this desire is evident within me.
Amen.
Most of us agree: we’re blessed. Our lives are full of good things like family, friendship, love, career, success, money, food, music, nature and on and on. But let us remember these good things for what they are: gifts. Rather than clinging to or obsessing over any of these gifts, may we instead cling to and become obsessed with the Giver.
The crisp, sweet smell of fall reminds me of this time last year; a uniquely sweet period of healing in my life. I am reminded that stillness, presence, and grace are all powerful tools of healing that we should routinely practice, even (and especially) if we think we don’t need to.