I'm telling you these things while I'm still living with you. The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don't be upset. Don't be distraught.
John 14:25-27 The Message
There are times, although I have heard from my family and friends, not often, when my words won’t come. When what I’m feeling is so immense, so overwhelming, so awesome that when I try to speak of the situation I cannot find words that come close to any accurate description. This is one of those times.
For the past eighteen months, the rector search committee that I'm part of prayed, even begged at times, for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. While we listened to the members of St. Anthony, and listened to each other, we listened for the divine. Speaking for myself, I felt at times like I was calling into a dark abyss. Frequently I had a very difficult time praying. Trying to tell God what he already knows, I think I was just putting good spin on my prayers so that I didn’t sound so whiny. This God of all creation and beyond, this God of things I can’t begin to understand, this God who doesn’t need hints from me as to what should happen next, had been very quiet indeed these months, at least as far as I was concerned.
A short time ago this all changed. I think what I’ve learned, and I admit I’m a slow learner, is that praying ultimately means being open to God, learning more about myself so that God might let me know more about him and refusing to be rushed into accepting a mediocre version of what life could be .
I learned the value of being still and listening. This listening has turned into a physical sensation that involved more than my two ears. I began hearing with my soul, a soul filled with love and gratitude for what we have been given, for what we were being shown, for what we have and what could be. This hasn’t been easy for me. Leaving what felt comfortable and safe, trusting that somehow we aren’t just moving into the future, but that we are being led. Being led by the Spirit Jesus promised would be with us. And being blessed all along the way even during the painful times.
Recently a very dear sister in Christ sent me this Irish blessing. It so beautifully described a few of the intense feelings that I had been experiencing lately. I’d like to share it with you, to bless you as she blessed me by sending it to me.
I wish you not a path devoid of clouds nor a life on a bed of roses.
Not that you might never need regret
Nor that you should never feel pain.
No, that is not my wish for you.
My wish for you is that you might be brave in times of trial.
When others lay crosses upon your shoulders.
When mountains must be climbed
And chasms are to be crossed.
When hope scarce can shine through.
That every gift God gave you might grow along with you.
And let you give the gift of joy to all who care for you.
That you may always have a friend who is worth that name.
Whom you can trust and who helps you in sadness.
Who will defy the storms of daily life at your side.
One more wish I have for you.
That in every hour of joy and pain
You may feel God close to you.
This is my wish for you and all who care for you.
This is my hope for you now and forever.
Blessings,
Jill
John 14:25-27 The Message
There are times, although I have heard from my family and friends, not often, when my words won’t come. When what I’m feeling is so immense, so overwhelming, so awesome that when I try to speak of the situation I cannot find words that come close to any accurate description. This is one of those times.
For the past eighteen months, the rector search committee that I'm part of prayed, even begged at times, for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. While we listened to the members of St. Anthony, and listened to each other, we listened for the divine. Speaking for myself, I felt at times like I was calling into a dark abyss. Frequently I had a very difficult time praying. Trying to tell God what he already knows, I think I was just putting good spin on my prayers so that I didn’t sound so whiny. This God of all creation and beyond, this God of things I can’t begin to understand, this God who doesn’t need hints from me as to what should happen next, had been very quiet indeed these months, at least as far as I was concerned.
A short time ago this all changed. I think what I’ve learned, and I admit I’m a slow learner, is that praying ultimately means being open to God, learning more about myself so that God might let me know more about him and refusing to be rushed into accepting a mediocre version of what life could be .
I learned the value of being still and listening. This listening has turned into a physical sensation that involved more than my two ears. I began hearing with my soul, a soul filled with love and gratitude for what we have been given, for what we were being shown, for what we have and what could be. This hasn’t been easy for me. Leaving what felt comfortable and safe, trusting that somehow we aren’t just moving into the future, but that we are being led. Being led by the Spirit Jesus promised would be with us. And being blessed all along the way even during the painful times.
Recently a very dear sister in Christ sent me this Irish blessing. It so beautifully described a few of the intense feelings that I had been experiencing lately. I’d like to share it with you, to bless you as she blessed me by sending it to me.
I wish you not a path devoid of clouds nor a life on a bed of roses.
Not that you might never need regret
Nor that you should never feel pain.
No, that is not my wish for you.
My wish for you is that you might be brave in times of trial.
When others lay crosses upon your shoulders.
When mountains must be climbed
And chasms are to be crossed.
When hope scarce can shine through.
That every gift God gave you might grow along with you.
And let you give the gift of joy to all who care for you.
That you may always have a friend who is worth that name.
Whom you can trust and who helps you in sadness.
Who will defy the storms of daily life at your side.
One more wish I have for you.
That in every hour of joy and pain
You may feel God close to you.
This is my wish for you and all who care for you.
This is my hope for you now and forever.
Blessings,
Jill
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