MetroMonk

Luke 8: 4-15 has a lot to say. How do you read it, rather, how do you hear it? "He who has hears, let him hear" (Lk. 8:8) There are 4 different types of ground types described here by Jesus; the path, the rocks, the thorns, and good soil. I'm a christian and have been for years, and I usually read this and instantly think of myself as a "good soil" type where the Word fell upon and reproduced "a hundred times more than what was sown." A little arrogant maybe, especially as i actually write that thought out and read for myself. But this afternoon I hear this word and I feel like a "thorny" type, because I can easily get caught up with  "life's worries, riches and pleasures." So how do hear this word of God when you read it? Do you instantly read this and think that some people are Christians because of the type of ground they are? If that is the case, then do people have a choice in the "type" of person they...

I have a goal. Let me know if you're into the same goal, ok? I want to increase the numbers at church's youth group. I want to help create some enthusiasm there too. I want to see more young couples coming to our church and feel connected. This would be success to me. I am anxious about a lot of things like this. This is what I pray for sometimes, maybe more than I'd like to admit. Success! That's all I want. Success! This word haunts me. Success, what is it? Really? For you or for me? What does it mean and do I think about it so much? I was anxious about this idea about being "successful" this morning (especially when person after person stepped into line with their fancy business suit and their fancy shoes, with their "bling" around their neck, ears and wrists).  "These people have money," I think to myself. "Maybe these people are successful too." Then I remember my calling, my vocation.  Christ. I was full of anxiet...

Here I am, Once again  With my coffee And sitting, Contemplating, Searching, Waiting, Looking, Listening. Many seasons Come and go. Hot and cold, Sunshine and dark, Good and bad, Joy and sorrow. Summer and winter, Rain and drought, But still my coffee is always warm  and you are with me. People come and go, Some I know and some I don't, I'm focused and sometimes not, I have lots of questions and sometimes I just Listen, Still, My coffee is always warm and you are with  Me. My life is always moving, I read lots, I forget lots, so I read some more, I write some, Everything is always moving and moving, Still My coffee is here waiting and you are with me. Me and my coffee. Peace.

I, who live by words, am    wordless when I try my words in prayer. All    language turns To silence. Prayer will take my words    and then Reveal their emptiness. The stifled voice    learns To hold its peace, to listen with the    heart To silence that is joy, is adoration. The self is shattered, all words torn    apart In the strange patterned time of    contemplation That, in time, breaks time, breaks    words, breaks me, And then, in silence leaves me    healed and mended. I leave returned to language, for I see Through words, even when all    words are ended, I, who live by words, am    wordless when I turn me to the Word to pray.    Amen. -Madeleine L' Engle Lines Scribbled on an Envelope While Riding the 104 Bus

Life, the contemplative knows, is a process. It is not that all the elements of life, mundane as they may be, do not matter. On the contrary, to the contemplative everything matters. Everything speaks of God, and God is both in and beyond everything. -Some readings about Faith