With Sighs Too Deep for Words

St. Paul writes in his letter to the Christians in Rome (ch. 8, v. 26; NRSV), “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” For those who can speak aloud and clearly, there are times, there are things, when and for which we find no words. We have vague or inchoate thoughts and feelings, and we cannot express to another what moves in head and heart. We may not even be able to articulate them within our own soul. Here, the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. Yet for those who simply and ever cannot speak aloud and clearly, how much more do articulation, expression, communication, fail them? Perhaps they do have the words in head and heart, but they cannot physically voice them. Perhaps, more profoundly, thoughts and feelings lie beyond articulation, even within head and heart. How much more for them, the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. So we hope and pray.

Pen and Lens

At the thin verge of meaning,
I wander in fields and woods,
near and far, known and not;
a kind of faith, hope, love
for truth, beauty, goodness.
Though the word escapes me,
and the image, my camera,
I wonder long, pen and lens.

Who Will Be in the Kingdom?

I had better accustom myself to the truth that there will be people in the kingdom of God I think should not be there; people I do not want to be there. If I cannot acknowledge that this will be true, then I have simply made the kingdom over in my own image. If however, by grace, I come to the point where I can admit that this will be true, I had better start now learning how to love, in the cruciform not sentimental sense, beyond my own reflection. For the full humbling depth of this truth is that some other person in this world must grow accustomed to the prospect that I may well be among those in the kingdom of God, even though that person thinks I should not be there, that person does not want me there. How can this be? In the end the inclusion of at least some we consider the unlikely, the unliked, is likely, as it is God’s kingdom, not ours; and he lovingly embraces, in the cruciform sense, where and when we do not. This we must account as grace and mercy, as good news; for if we look truly within, we must sooner or later realize, however excruciatingly, there is no deserving of residence in that kingdom.

Letting Go, Taking Hold

I have been reading in 2 Corinthians 4 and 5 of late. That reading and recent experiences in the extended life of which I am a part have freshly and deeply impressed me.

What we know is this life – laden with ambiguity. What we hope is the life to come – lifted with glory surpassing. As we ponder and approach our own passing, how will we let go what we know to take hold what we hope?