Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Thoughts on a Sunday Night
There is a part of me that wants to love everyone--to throw open my arms and draw them in, to understand them, to appreciate what is beautiful, to shield what is broken, to deal kindly with what is weak, to delight in what is good. But there is another part of me that is itself blemished, hurt, and angry. My choice of what to do with that self will affect my ability to demonstrate love. Will I hide? Bully through? Deny? Will I blame others or cloak myself in a wounded identity? I would rather let that frightened, craving soul gape for the sure thing of God's comfort--and doing that--be able to lavish on others what I, myself, have first received.
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Giving and receiving are so interlinked that at most times one doesn't know which is happening. Think of when you are singing or playing your violin. You are giving your gifts to others, but they are giving you their attention and admiration. I think God's comfort comes to us in our interactions with others - in our giving/receiving exchanges. It is not clear to me that receiving comes first, but at the same time as giving. Just as the desire to please God does, in fact, please God, so your desire to love others is what is needed to receive love from others. Your choice is to receive that love; from God and from others. It all happens simultaneously. That is my experience.
ReplyDeleteYes, precisely! "But there is another part of me ..." We are all caught, I think, between that which would include and that which would exclude, between approaching life invitingly or guardedly.
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