I offer you this group of sayings I’ve gathered together to take to a 98 year old friend that I’m visiting today. I print it out on a stiff piece of paper, and if I knew how, I give you a link on this blog. 

                               THOUGHTS FOR AN OPEN HEART

     Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Psalm 90.14

      No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.
Helen Keller

    God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.
John 4:24

     And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose
Romans 8:38

     To accept death is to accept God.
Thomas Keating

    Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.
Matthew 11:28
       To cast the burdens means really to insist upon harmony and peace of mind, and to cease from worry and anxiety there and then.
Emmet Fox

      But we urge you, beloved, to do so more and more, to aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we directed you, so that you may behave properly toward outsiders and be dependent on no one.  1 Thessalonians 4:11-12
     A free translation of 1 Thessalonians 4:11 might well read: “Study to shut up and mind your own business”; and among all the texts we hang on our walls, let this be one.
Oswald Chambers
                                                      Bobbi Fisher, November 2018
 

Have you noticed that in the Gospels Jesus appears for a while and then disappears. We read about him feeding a crowd, and next thing we know, he as slipped into a boat and hidden on the other side of the lake. He refuses to go to Jerusalem with his disciples, but then makes the journey alone and appears in the temple. There are plenty of examples; just look of them.

     My first response is that Jesus does the same with me, but I’m apt to blame myself for forgetting about him. Thus he disappears. I know that I’m not in control of all of his appearing and disappearing, but I do play a part when I get involved in my own agenda, an agenda that doesn’t include Jesus.

      But I’m also considering that this now-you-see-him, now-you-don’t modus operandi of Jesus could be of his doing. He can’t be with us every minute, telling us what do to, leading us by the hand. We’re left alone to try things out on our own, and then Jesus reappears to help us check out how we’re doing.

     So many possibilities to ponder, but when all is said and done, I remember my favorite, which is the container that holds them all. “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20b).

I’ve agreed to set up one of the Stations of the Cross for the Good Friday service at my church. Focusing on Stations of the Cross is not particularly common to Protestant churches, and certainly to the UCC, but the incidents they represent aren’t. After all, they are in Scripture.

    I have chosen station # 1 (according to the form my church is using): “Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.” Matthew 26: 36-46; Mark 14: 32-42; Luke 22:40-46. In the story Jesus asks his disciples to sit with him in his time of trial and to pray. But each time they fall asleep, and each time Jesus admonishes them.

     In my station I am going to concentrate on Jesus’ words in Matthew 14:38:

      Then he said to them, ‘I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.’

     How does this apply to my life? Is there someone I know that I can sit with, someone who is dying, or grieving deeply, or both? How can I stay awake with them? Can I be with them as a listener? Can I keep quiet and listen when they want to talk, and when they are silent?

     I’m going to suggest that each visitor to the station think of a person they know, and in the week after Easter go sit with them and do their best to stay awake and listen.

I just got word that a young mother, a wife, friend, a woman full of light and love has died. What can we make of such unfairness? We lament like Job, like the psalmists. Like Jesus we call out, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

     I am grateful for all these laments, especially for Jesus’ words that let me know that I can be angry, that anger, despair, and even hopelessness are all part of the human condition. Simone Weil writes: “Affliction constrained Christ to implore that he might be spared, to seek consolation from man, to believe he was forsaken by the Father. It forced a just man to cry out against God, a just man as perfect as human nature can be, more so perhaps, if Job is less a historical character than a figure of Christ.”

     Jesus  and Job called out to God in their affliction, but they never left God, they never stop believing in God’ love; they just didn’t understand. 

That’s where I am now, trying to understand, waiting in hope for the resurrection. Thank God the story isn’t over.

I am continually in awe when I visit the Convent of San Marco. My favorite place in all of Florence; an icon of 15th century Florentine Renaissance history, art and faith.














    Sitting in the inviting cloister offers plenty of solace.

But then, there is the breath-taking approach at the head of the staircase leading to the Upper Floor. The Annunciation. An ‘aesthetic experience’, for sure.

I spent a long time in front of this fresco this morning. It’s always been a favorite because I can’t help but look at it and wonder what God is calling me to do. And then there is the humility that Mary exudes, which I can almost feel within my reach.

If this isn’t enough, walk down the corridors and peak into the dormitory cells, each with a fresco by Fra Angelico depicting a scene from the life of Christ.

    If only I could live there, I would pick Cell 1--Noli me tangere, with Jesus telling Mary Magdalene, “Do not to touch me, for I am not yet ascended to the Father.” I love the colors and the composition, and I have always been mystified by Jesus’ comment, for I often feel an approach-avoidance with Jesus. But here is a direct rebuff. It is a seminal moment. Mary has to wait until Jesus ascends, and when he does, Mary becomes all of us, and Jesus becomes accessible to us all.

Today while I was on the Isle of Mull being grateful for God’s creation, my suitcase was delivered to my hotel. I may write more about the experience of dealing with a lost bag for an entire week while on vacation, for now here are a few thoughts about it. First of all, I am very grateful to have the suitcase in my possession. Second, I found traveling light to be very freeing; part of me doesn’t want to open it up. Finally, it never occurred to me to pray that my bag would not be lost, nor even that I would even get it back. Um, much more to ponder.

 It is hard to believe that a prayer diary has been in existence for almost two years. When I started, I wrote, “This blog is my attempt to respond to the question, “What is prayer?”

       Since then, needless to say, my faith has deepened and my purpose and hopes for this blog have broadened, although the prayer question will forever remain central. Today, however, as I look out from my cottage by the sea, I express my intention as follows: to offer prayerful ways for all of us as God’s people to witness to the Truth, to experience Christ in our lives and to see the Christ in the faces of the people we meet.

      It is in that spirit that I am adding a new section to a prayer diary, which I am entitling Word and Image. Let me explain.  

      I keep a daily calendar of scripture. During my morning prayer time I write down a Biblical verse that resonates with me, and then throughout the day I do my best to think about it and to pray with it. As the year goes on I consider to whom I will give the calendar, and at the end of December I wrap it up and include a note, suggesting that when the right times comes, the recipient might pass it on to someone else.

       I’ve been doing this for about fifteen years, giving the first one to my mom. When she died I gave her calendar to her minister, who, just about a year after, passed it on to a grieving couple she knew. Maybe at the opportune time they will place it in someone else’s hands, but I don’t need to know. The recipients of several other calendars have died, and although I wonder what has become of their calendars, I trust that they are just where the ought to be.

      Lately I’ve added another ritual to my morning prayer, praying with a piece of art, as an icon, I might say. Usually it’s a painting, but sometimes it’s a piece of sculpture, tapestry, pottery, photography, architecture (I’m open to new possibilities). I select from the treasure trove of postcards that I have acquired through my travels, but I am branching out to books, museums and the internet. My favorite subject is the Annunciation, but again, ‘What else might be out there?’

      This new section to a prayer diary offers these two rituals, scripture and visual art, Word and Image. I make no attempt to related the two (as I do in my daily quote and blog entries) and yet, sometimes that will happen, for as we know God works in mysterious ways.