Have there been times in my life journey when I asked the question 'why isn't God helping me?'  

Yes, I believe there were.  But as I grow in wisdom and understaning, I no longer look for God to intervene.   I've come to see that 'life happens', 'bad things happen to good people' and that 'rain falls on the just and the unjust'.   So I don't blame God when things go wrong - when it rains on my picnic, when I get a cold just before an important event, when the car breaks down, or when cancer strikes.   These things happen.   And I don't really expect God to somehow spare me because I've been good, because I've prayed the right prayer, because I 'have faith'.  

But I've learned to look for the rainbow in the rain.  I've learned to slow down, and not push myself so hard, I've learned to take responsibility for things around me and feel thankful when its just a minor thing wrong with the car and not a new transmission, and when we learn to live in the new normal of cancer survivors. 

I've learned to fix the things I can fix - and for the rest I've learned to 'let go and let God'.   When I've done all I can, looked after meaintenance, been careful, taken my meds, been prepared, there are times when i have to say, "What happens, happens."   And then I can open myself to God's presence with me, God's love surrounding me.   And so far that has sustained me.  

I am not alone, God is with me.  Thanks be to God.

 Have there been times in my faith journey when I  wondered, "Why isn't God helping me?" If so, has the answer to your question been answered with the passing of time?

I approached the faith I know now from an extended period of atheism. I came to realise, the further I took my atheism (from being repelled from Jesus-freakery by Billy Graham to realising that atheism was unsustainable), the more I found what I can only call a god presence. I’m still hesitant about the word “god” because my experience of god-presence is so much vaster than most things Christians have told me about god.

(There's an account of my first "exeperience" in my "Testimony" under "interests" on my profile page.) 

I do not experience a god that trips around like a Stepford wife picking up after me because I’m too stupid to get anything much right the first time. I do not experience a god that airlifts cargoes of goodies to feed people I’m too busy and self-absorbed to worry about. I do not experience a god that topples enemies I’m too gutless to confront, or heals the wounds I inflict.

I experience godness as a mystery reaching from far beyond anything I can imagine to the very core of my being.

The god I experience opens arms of love. It’s not god’s plan that there be poor or imprisoned or injured people so I can prove my worthiness by helping them. It is MY fundamental responsibility to change MY ways to save these other lives. That, to me, was what Jesus saw  and taught: calling us to follow god because in doing that there is the only possible fullness of life.

Personally... I chicken out, time and time again. Why should I feel bad? Lots of us chicken out. And THAT is why the world's in such a mess. We aren’t cast into pits of judgement: we spend half our lives constructing them. We “redeem” ourselves, not by asking god for a fix-it, but by opening to god’s love and becoming expressions of that love.

We don’t have the insight or intelligence to “know the mind” of god, or to set the world aright overnight -- we have a horrible way of coming up with "solutions" that create new problems.

But we can learn as much as we can from everything that surrounds us, all that we can read and learn, and study about the insights of other people and by pursuing our own faith journey. But we have to go beyond all that to the place of love, the state of lovingness... and, as lovely as that sounds, we keep chickening out because we have all these imaginary friends who tell us not to let go of this or that, or not to risk this or that, or to fear this and that... they’re not “the devil”, they’re not even “demons”; they are our own creations. They are the guardians of our comfort zone.

Here is a little story:

In a lifeboat there were seven sailors whose ship had gone down in a storm. After nights of fear, they found their lifeboat drifting so close to a tropical shore they could smell it, but not one of them could swim. They had no oars or sail, so they prayed for a wind to blow them to the beach. It did not come and, each day, their boat drifted a little closer to the shore, then a little further from it, to and fro with the daily tides. Each day, one of the sailors died and that left a little more food for the others. The dwindling survivors eked out the provisions they’d managed to throw into the boat as their ship went down, and they prayed to god for food and salvation.

But, as the days past, they began to curse god for “his” cruelty; the way their boat drifted closer then further from the shore seemed sadistic torture. Their anger was made worse by the fruit they could see beyond the beach; there was game there, shellfish on the rocks and flocks of plump birds, all seeming to mock the sailors’ hunger. They raged and weakened. And, one by one, cursing god and terrified of the death that was upon them, they died.

The last one alive was a young sailor who had desperately wanted to see his unborn child. He had clung to life in that hope. Feeling hope was gone, and not wanting to die raving and insane as he had seen his companions die, he hauled himself to the gunwhale and, with his last spasm of strength, toppled himself into the sea expecting to drown or be taken by a shark. His eyes widened: his bum hurt. He was sitting up to his neck on a coral reef. He and his shipmates could have walked to shore and feasted there days before... but they had chosen to stay with what was safe. So did this young sailor ever see his child? The tale is yours to finish.

Do you now see a reason why it didn't appear God was helping you?

God doesn’t help us in ways we’d like. God won’t clean up the planet. If we don’t like it the way it is, that’s really OUR problem. God loves us but she’s sure not going to clean your room if you’re not going make a start on it. You’re old enough to know better.

How are you turning from an old way of life to a new one during this Lenten journey?

I’m working on a “letting go” thing: we’re due to move this summer.

Loved your life boat story.  That's right up there with the one of the person stranted on his roof during a flood.  He prayed to God for help - and then sat back and waited.  A guy came by in a canoe and offered him a lift to solid ground.  No thanks. God would save him.  Then someone came by with a substantial boat.  No thanks.  God would save him.   Then the coast guard flew over with a helicopter and offered to lower a line.  No thanks.   The waters rose.  He drowned and was soon at the pearly gates.  God, why didn't you save me?  

The answer:  "I sent a canoe, a row boat and a helicopter.  What more did you expect?"

Old story but good.  Sometimes we expect miracles to save us when all we need is right here with us.  

Sometimes we're too frightened to test waters beyond our comfort zone, even though we're going crazy in it... far less abandon it.

Oh sweet serendipity!

At church yesterday the witness was given by Greg Jenks - a member of the Jesus Seminar.

His theme was "live your life in love, not fear. In hope, not judgement."

This has reminded me of the Russian proverb, "Pray to god, but keep rowing to shore." 

It is partly why I feel that discernment is so important, or is such a strong connection to God. God is always with us, but figuring out in exactly what facet God is in, where the rainbow is, can be the trick.

I dislike the idea that Everything Happens for a Reason. It seems like a self-serving delusion. However, in everything that does happen, there seems to be an action or inaction that is closer to God and one that is father away. The way to grace seems to be figuring out which is what and when.

In the book, we are asked to write out Luke 4: 31-35. I found myself reflecting on the man with the demon in the story. In my own struggles with mental illness, I have found myself asking where God was and why hasn't God helped me? The answer is, of course, that God was there - I just couldn't see God.

I wonder what the man in Capernaum's story was - what was his demon? I'll bet a lot of people were thinking what he said, but, for whatever reason, he was the only one with the courage to say it.

What was the man's demon? Did he have a mental illness? A disability or impairment? Did he simply lack a speech filter? Whatever it was, Jesus certainly showed him compassion! Do I always follow Jesus' compassionate leadership? I try to, but sometimes it is easy to forget - to push aside the mentally ill or disabled. Sure I am polite to them, but how often does it get deeper than that?

This man must have faced some real stigmas in his life. Jesus broke down the barriers and saw beyond his mental condition. He saw the human being in the man. Sometimes I need to be reminded to do that too.

  Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions for today. It's been great to read your responses to the previous readings. Thank you so much for your participation!

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Monday | Day 11 | Living Faith

Rising with the Morning Star (UCPH, 2010). 

 I seem to have missed yesterday's reflection.  I thought everyone was taking a day off (because it was Sunday?) Never thought we'd changed threads.  Anyway, I have never wondered, "Why isn't God helping me?"  Why?  For all the reasons Mike said.  Like Seeler I too think that the passing of time brings answers.  Proactive?  Sure! As long as you "keep rowing for shore" (thank you LHG!)

Insofar as today's question is concerned.  I have never been stuck.  I do not run on a single track.  When one path blocks up I run on another one for a while.  I take the opportunities that are given me.  The complexity of the universe assures there is always something.  Admittedly some tracks are better than others but you have to work with what you have been given.  Helping those who are stuck?  Well, there's only so much.  I advise but I try not to nag.  I try not to judge people.  Sometimes they just need space and time for the light to go on.  

Have you ever been stuck and unable to move in your life? What got you going again?

I've been hand  copying out the scripture and one of the things that struck me as I was copying today was what effort the friends went to in order to get the man to Jesus.

When I was disabled with back issues, it was friends who dropped around each day to take me for the walks I needed in order to heal.

In times when we are unable to move, we need to let go of our pride and reach out to friends.

But when we have friends or family who are stuck, I'm reluctant to force the issue if they aren't ready to reach out. All I can do is put myself where they'll keep 'tripping over' me and when they are ready, I'll be there to answer their invitation for help. In the meantime, pray.  Pray for those who need help and pray for ourselves that we'll be the kind of friend who will carry someone in need up onto a roof and lower her down before Jesus.

Have I ever been stuck and unable to move in your life? What got me going again?

It’s maybe not quite in the spirit this question’s been asked... but I was once stuck for five or six hours in a cave entrance. I used to do a bit of recreational caving in my university days and we liked to go surveying, looking for new passages and entrances. It was more exciting than re-visiting known caves.

One sunny Saturday morning, I tied a rope around my waist and burrowed into just such a hole in the ground. It was low, but it widened promisingly past the entrance and I crawled down a slick clay hump. Below I could hear running water but the passage tightened again. About 30 feet in, I decided it was a no-go. I tried unsuccessfully to turn around. I tugged on the rope and my friends began helping to pull me backwards up a 45-degree mudbank as my hands and feet scrabbled for purchase in the soft clay. Then they could pull no more. The rope had cut into the clay and the hump of it was between me – head down in the hole – and my friends, who were in the open air, staring at what looked like an oversized rabbit burrow.

One of them struggled to get a groundsheet under the rope. No good. Someone found a piece of wood to thrust under the rope at the crown of the hump. In the end, one of my friends crawled in as far as  the crown of the hump and managed to lift my rope in a way that gave me enough purchase to inch, feet first, back up the slope. Once I got to the hump, it was easy.

I was then roundly abused for wasting their day. They threw me in a nearby river and, that night at the pub, I had to buy numerous rounds of beer and listen to their insulting estimations of my intelligence, fitness and physique. And the next day, we were back at it, trying to get into that cavern some other way.

What have I done to help friends or loved ones who may have been in that situation and unable to help themselves? 

My friends and loved ones are all far too sensible to have got in that exact situation. But we all get into situations that can feel something like that... and we all need friends who don’t panic, tell us we’re stupid but “don’t worry”, then good-humouredly help to pull us ass-backwards out of the hole we’ve got into. If they love us enough, they’ll throw us in a river to get the worst of the mud off and celebrate us back into the community of friendship.

That happens, in all sorts of ways, often. It can be almost be a regular interaction. But good friends don’t try to stop us exploring. And we need to trust their efforts to help us. There are lots of things none of us can do alone.

I've appreciated reading people's comments about friends who are stuck and what to do. Most seem to say that for the most part they try not to force the issue or take charge. Rather, they try to be around so they're there to help if asked, or to pick up the pieces afterwards as needed.

I think sometimes I'm more inclined to to be more proactive, particularly with family. I don't think that's always been the best route. I really struggle with this when it comes to my kids. But as they've grown older and I have too, I'm starting to see that my role now needs to be a different one. They need to make decisions, make mistakes, and learn from them. Even though it's hard to watch them do this (when I feel I could set them straight!) in the long run it's best.

I liked Kathryn Holman's reminder to pray. Prayer is a positive action I can take.

I ponder the question.  Have I ever been stuck and unable to move in my life?   I remember when I worked for a trust company, drafting wills, working with estates and trusts.  Some interesting work, some boring, and some that I would rather not be involved in.   But I enjoyed working in a clean, airconditioned office, I respected and worked well with the head of my small department, I got along fairly well with most of the staff, courses and training lead to promotions.  But then my boss and much of the work was transferred to head office in another province and within a year my job was eliminated.  Within a couple more years the department of five was reduced to one administrator who forwarded the work to head office.  At first it was as though the floor had been pulled from under me.  No job - no income - no identity for if I wasn't a trust officer, who was I?  

But then I realized.  I was a beloved child of God.  I was a wife and mother.  I was a person in my own right.  I didn't need a job title to tell me, and the world, who I was.  But as time went by, as I found part time office work and began further studies in my religion to eventually become a pulpit supply person, as I took a water colour course, and then wrote a novel, I realized that it wasn't losing my job that had been wrong for me.  It was allowing myself to be stuck in that job for too long, to have clung to it during that last year when everything was going wrong and I should have seen that there was no future in it, and it wasn't really what I enjoyed doing or was talented for.  

I'm sorry to say that when I lost my job, and my middle class income and status, some of the people I had considered by closest friends fell away.  Nothing obvious at first - but then I noticed that while we still talked at church events, I was't being invited to their homes for card games or pot luck suppers.  Other people, who perhaps hadn't been so close, continued to include me, and I met new people. 

Stuck in a job I no longer enjoyed or got satisfaction from - but I was able to turn to the people and interests that really mattered.  And never did it shake my faith in God.  If anything, it made my faith stronger as I struggled to rebuild my life.

Perhaps not related to the question, but something that struck me during the reading.

Why is it, if as the book says we know better than to think illness and/disability results from sin in this fascinating modern age we live in, is physical disability so often used as a metaphor for spiritual or mental brokenness?

The book tells us that Jesus calls for us to arise and go on our way, which is all well and good, and I do appreciate that it's metaphorical, but a lot of people can't. I think it would feel frustrating to have a physical disability and to constantly face calls, embedded in everyday language, to get up and walk.

Similarly, it seems like the message of our popular culture is that is that the only solutions to disability are to become able again (as was the point of the film Avatar), or to die (see Million Dollar Baby). Never mind that there's tens of thousands of disabled people who get by just fine and live happy and fulfilling (if occasionally irritated) lives.

I feel that when considering ourselves to have grown past stigmatizing the disabled and diseased (is AIDS not often seen as the result of sin?), we ought to take a long hard look at how we treat them.

As to the actual discussion question:

I have felt stuck several times in my life. The most memorable one was the last time I was living in town. I felt like the Red Queen in Through the Looking Glass:

"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else — if you run very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."

"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"

It seemed to me that I was working forty five hours a week in the service industry, going to church, volunteering on between two and four church committees, volunteering at the women's shelter, trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, and still getting time in to write, that I wasn't feeling at all at peace, and I didn't have any time to spend to figure out what was wrong. I was in therapy, which was helpful to some extent, and church, once you stripped always some of the politics did help, perhaps more than anything, but when I got down to it, my soul ached for God.

I thought about going back to the lights, because when I visited them in the summer, it seemed like I suddenly had air to breath again, but they were talking about destaffing at the time, and weren't hiring.

I talked about going through discernment with my church. I was baptized by my own choice as a teenager, and since then I had always thought that I might go into the ministry. It seemed like a good solution. My finances were okay; I had the grades to get into the local university; I had the support of my church community, and it really did seem as though church was the only place I felt at all at peace in those times. I was spending nine hours a week there sometimes anyway. So I tried to discern if I should discern, and ran it around and around in circles in my head, tried to pray, read Scripture, talked to my therapist, talked to my parents, read tarot cards (Yes, Virginia, I am aware of the conflict of interest here)

In the end the realization came to me in a flood tide, slowly building until it drowned me: I wasn't thinking about ministry because that was how God had called me; I was thinking about it as an escape route. I thought of The Bells of St Mary's where Sister Mary Benedict tells Patsy that wanting to be a nun is something that comes out of inner peace and certainty, not fear and loneliness.

Not long after, I went to the coast guard base, and talked them into hiring me, and here I am.

Maybe someday, I'll have the confidence and peace that allows me to go to god with a free heart, I hope I will, but for now I'll find my call in another place.

As I have said before on here, I got stuck in my - mid-twenties in the throws of depression. I did not know where to go or what to do. I did not know how to ask for help. It was my church and my friends who really stuck by me during this time.

When I see friends who I think may be struggling with depression, I simply offer them a listening ear and some friendly advice. Sometimes I will share what worked for me. I let them know that they are not alone and that I will do whatever i can to help them.

   Good morning. Here is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions for Day 12. Thank you.

What have I done to bring about my own healing?

Mostly... I try to get out of god’s way. I try to cook sensibly, live fully, love lots. I love life and live it. I cherish my curiosity.

What have I risked?

Comfort zone and career.

What constitutes healing for me?

Joy, harmony, balance: but healing, surely, is simply the way things are:

Most of the 220 types of cell in the human body survive less than ten years; they die and are replaced. Only a few cell types last a lifetime, including our heart muscle cells, some brain cells and stem cells. Cell death is what allows us to grow, develop and adapt; it takes out cells that have become a threat; death is a gateway to life.

Replacement, healing and regeneration are deeply embedded in the natural order of things: when one species falls extinct, another takes its place; the whole of life is geared up to flourish.

Virtually all multi-celled organisms, moreover, have effective ways of making good after injury or infection. It takes a very dramatic injury, denial of necessities or violent infection to kill most creatures. Cats are not the only creatures with “nine lives”. Rats and mice do pretty well too.

Nature tells us that the more complicated an organism is, the less able it is, by and large, to recover fully from extreme trauma… but, in return, its capacities to avoid fatal disease or injury are more highly developed. When we look at ourselves — with our “advanced” medical knowledge and procedures, our naturopathy and our biological knowledge — we have the means to treat even our imagined illnesses. But NONE of it heals anyone: the best we can do is try to clear the way for healing (which is why the physical injury inflicted by surgery and ingesting normally toxic pharmaceuticals can be good for us, and why placebos can be so disarmingly effective: WE are not in control); healing happens because it is the way life is. And, as for death… well, death is not an illness or an injury but a gateway for life. This is certainly what Jesus seems to have taught; it’s what nature tells us; it’s good enough for me to accept as “god’s word”.

Most of our complaints in the West are self-inflicted or imagined, or refusals to accept the realities of living; and, in the rest of the World, much of the illness, deprivation and injury is inflicted intentionally or unwittingly by our self-absorption.

We have engineered our way to toxic imbalance. A reading of “how toxic” can be taken from the knowledge that human activity is the leading cause of around 1,000 extinctions a year. Do you know how DIFFICULT it is to produce an extinction when you want to? The only deliberate, successful eradication efforts have been the fights against the smallpox virus (announced extinct in 1979, after a 180-year struggle) and the cattle-killing rinderpest virus (its eradication was announced last year). Life can be very tenacious: have you ever met with resistance from a pet cat?

So, when we inadvertently become the leading cause behind an annihilation rate of three whole species a day, I think you have to allow that our “lifestyles” — the root cause of those extinctions — might be a little out of kilter: three species, forever, on average, every day… gone: the “good” life?

In Jesus’ day, it was Rome that was inflicting widespread injury and deprivation. Today it’s us, and we’re doing it globally. Jesus’ teachings are not on the side of the sort of society we have shaped… and, collectively, we show every sign of not wanting to be bothered very much.

Healing of the natural world needs our participation or, at the very least, our not getting too riotously in the way. God will accomplish the healing.

As for us... god will heal even us… if we reach out and, in humility, touch. It’s the natural order of things.

I think for me healing comes with acceptance.  And one of the things I have to accept is that my body is 70 years old.  Yes, hard to believe, but 70 years since I was that plump baby in my mother's arms. 

I think I've used it well, and it has served me.  When I was a kid I learned to ride a bike and to swim - two important skills that I used for many years.  I still swim although in recent years I seem to have given up biking - a bad knee and a bit afraid of injury because I don't get up as easily after a fall.   I've cross country skied, I've hiked.  I climbed a few hills and mountains.  I've born and raised two children, and helped with grandchildren. 

I've learned to live with crohns disease.  At one time I risk having my large bowel and part of the small removed - and I was healthier than before. 

Recently I risk having eye surgery.  I wanted to see clearly and I had been told that this type of surgery meant the lens could be reshaped and the myopia improved.  The surgery went well, and now I'm scheduled for a second operation - my other eye. 

With every operation there is some danger as we step off into the unknown - placing our lives, or our health, or our vision, in the hands of a surgeon.   But for me the risk was worth it.

I will never be 20 again - or even 50 or 60.  There are things that I cannot do, things that I never did that I wish I had, other things that I once enjoyed but will probably never do again.    But I can enjoy life, as I plan to for another 10 or 20 or 30 years.  And with acceptance and trust in the Spirit that surrounds me, I am healed.  And I can see and rejoice. 

"She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his clothes, and immediately her hemorrhage stopped." Luke 8:44
 

I have a grandchild, who, like alot of children are afraid of the dark.  The last time he stayed at my home, he was once again afraid that when he went to sleep he would have "bad dreams that would scare him".  His other "Nana" had bought him a dream catcher and he wondered why I didn't have one. When I asked if the Dream Catcher had helped him, he then stated that it did for a couple of nights, but not anymore. I then told him that dream catchers could still work for him, but that it wasn't necessary to have one for God to reassure us that he looked after us with love. I told him that love is more powerful than fear.  So, of course, his next question was, "so God will protect me from everything, right?"

I was given pause for a few seconds, remembering myself how I had felt "let down" by God when the promises my parents had told me about God didn't always pan out. So I carefully worded my response by saying that there will be times that it seems as if God isn't there, because bad things continue to happen, but if you can remember to ask God for strength he will help you get through things and face your fears.

When I remember this myself or someone encourages me, and I seek to reach out for God, despite any adversity that I encounter, I do find a renewed dedication to overcome  what life may set before me. When I forget this, the circumstances overcome me and i flounder aimlessly and continuously hit numerous brick walls that underpin any healing that should occur. Time and time again, it has been God's love that has nourished my soul AND my body, not always in the way I expected either. Sometimes it's just the reassurance that I should accept a transition and still be able to find  beauty in my life.
 

Begged, pleaded, bargained, tried desperately to believe . . .

 Let me tell you, I am having a real tough time with this one.  Healing?  I really don't know much about it.  You get hurt, you go lie in a snowbank by the rink until your head clears then you get back up and get in the game again.  Healing?  Is that really so special?  Doesn't it happen naturally?  You just have to give it some time.  Don't you just keep on keeping on while you wait?  Maybe it helps to have a bad memory or a forgiving nature or both.  I don't hold grudges.  I don't nurse my wounds.  I don't ... won't ... stay hurt.  I don't hold on to my hurts.  I go out and live.  I know that nobody and nothing is going to suspend the laws of gravity for me but I have optimism that there are lots of possibilities that I don't (and can't) see and that my happiness lies embedded in these possibilities.   You have to believe at least that much then go out and discover the possibilities by being present in the present.

How would that look in practice?  Well if your dad dies you start a television production company and make some rock videos (before MTV) and produce a feature television show.  

Do you now see why it appeared that God wasn't helping you?

From the film Gandhi:

Gandhi: I thought you were a man of God.

Clergy:  I am but I'm not so egotistical as to believe he plans his days around my dilemmas.

I looked up the word "heal" in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary and this is what it said:

Just want to add we heal by letting go of pain.

But the difficult part is we often have to allow ourselves to feel the pain first - and then leave it to time and God, and our own love of life, to see us through to the other side.

(Freud once said that neurosis is the price we pay if we avoid, rather than face our pain.)

There are plenty of wounds that time deepens: just look at the Middle East... and the source of your own greatest troubles: little decisons, quickly taken long ago, never really addressed until they get SERIOUS and then they can be very difficult to rise above. Time, alone, heals nothing. The only cure is, not regret, but forgiveness... and that's what can take the time.

  Good morning! Welcome to Day 13 of the Rising with the Morning Star Lenten discussion.

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Wednesday | Day 13 | Thankful Faith

Where do I find the holy in the ordinary?

Pretty much everywhere, I guess. From the mountain top to the loo. But you specify the "ordinary". Defecation reveals the way that, in common with all animals, I have a finely balanced chemical, physiological and neurologically programmed way of extracting the sustaining goodness from what I eat... and discarding the rest. I accomplish this extraction unconciously, and with the help of millions of bacteria my system has recruited, and I do it all unawares... and protected by a physiological defence system of which I am also mostly unaware. It is about “clean” and “unclean”, “healing” and “harmful”,“nourishing” and  “moving on” and  “faith”. And how well do I use that amazing system?... mmmm... not brilliantly. But I am constantly impressed by the thoroughness of the blessing we're given to experience. There are NO gaps, it seems.

It is easy to be impelled to gratitude for all that's apparent to our conscious senses, but our unconscious and subconscious selves have every bit as much reason to be grateful. So I wonder about ways to fully express a gratitude of being.

How is God working in my life today?

God is breathing into me as I inhale, and I am breathing into god when I exhale.... for the meantime, it seems to keep happening.

How am I returning to God in thanks and praise?

I keep trying to better understand the Gospels... especially the Gospels. So I'd like to go back to the reading....

Scholars have suggested that this story of the ten lepers, unique to Luke’s Gospel, illustrates a bias of the early Christian mission to non-conforming Jews, focused as it was among the Samaritans. They have a point we shouldn’t ignore.

It’s only in Luke’s Gospel, for example, that we find the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10: 30-36), a story that also seems somehow at odds with most of Jesus’ other teachings about relationship. But this story is in the context of an outreach to people Jews widely despised as heretics, detached from the niceties of "mainstream" Judaic law. Jews going amongst them risked defilement in the eyes of their own people. Jesus (who in John 8: 48 was accused of being a Samaritan)  cautioned his disciples against going to their cities (Matthew 10: 5). Imagine yourself evangelising among these people… a story like that of the good Samaritan would have brought some greatly appreciated comfort among strangers on cold nights of the soul. But it may not have been healing.

This Jewish-Gentile antagonism was a feature of our faith’s earliest days: the first of many schisms it would experience through the centuries ahead. And stories, like this one of Luke’s, were extracted and redacted as fuel for European anti-Semitism.

Here (Luke 17: 11-19), it is the Samaritan — not one of the Jews — who turns back, praising god. Jesus then takes a wee swipe at the apparent ingratitude of the other nine who, as Jews, were compelled by their religious law to get a final diagnosis and a clearance from the priests before they could re-join society. And they weren’t “healed” until they got that clearance.

For Jews, and for Jesus, leprosy was an issue of “cleanliness”. The issue at stake in this story is the Judaic law that specified the condition, rather than gratitude. In other passages, Jesus urges compliance with that law (e.g. Luke 5: 12-14). In fact, he seems to have consistently spoken about the Law with great respect; it was the ungodly way the Temple oligarchs used it to their own advantage that Jesus attacked. This story seems to extend Jesus' critique to Jewish lepers excluded by their condition from practising their faith. It  is a story with a capacity to confuse. The closer you consider it, the less there seems to be there; it is different in spiritual tone from most of what we find in the Gospels.

Cleansing is, as Jesus taught, between god and the person who is cleansed: it is faith that exposes us to the rush of cleansing spirit — it is something we each can experience by opening to it.

And  it is god we must thank for cleansing, for healing, for wholeness and for life. And finding these things is a path of joy.

The holy is the source of every ordinary thing, from the billions of cells involved in reading this thread and typing a response into the computer to the continual renewal of the air I breath and the water I drink.

God is at work in my life in several ways: in the encounters and discussions at presbytery yesterday to the push to improve my self-discipline in more consistently making choices that enhance my life, now and in the future.  It is in the little things we do that we improve or degrade our lives, and God offers visions of the results of making the right choices.

Along with a spirit of thankfulness, I give thanks by accepting God's invitation to a better life, acceptance shown by the little decisions I am making today.

Reflection Questions: Where do you find the holy in the ordinary? How is God working in your life today? How are you returning to God in thanks and praise?

I'm not sure I do consider something "ordinary" as holy. In fact I tend to consider something that is extraordinary as holy or divine.

Nine lepers that were healed sought out a priest that would confirm their homeostasis, but one turned around when he realized that he had been healed by the holiest of the holies. The highest priest,

We are all offered the mountains, the oceans, and all the wonders of the world but they become more when we turn around from them and find God as the one that provided for us.

As awesome as nature is, I believe God's majesty is greater than this.

@Mike, thanks for your more in depth discussion of the passage.

Did anyone else pass the passage along to someone else?

Reflection Questions:

Where do you find the holy in the ordinary?

By listening deeply to what is happening around me.

I find when I listen to all that is going on around me, I see God at work in others and where I'm to be God's touch to others.

How is God working in your life today?

It is easy for me to appreciate the weather today - sunny and warm in Vancouver with breath-taking views of the mountains as I walk to the grocery store to buy some food for breakfast. But the holy was in the check-out lady taking time to chat with us today, connecting with us and giving her thanks for the beautiful weather. If I had been too jet-legged to notice, she was making sure I didn't miss it.

How is God working in my life today?

In exactly the same way He has in the past.

Initially, through my grandmother, He taught me the concept of gratitude.

As a small child walking beside her she pointed out constantly all the "little" blessings in our lives - "Isn't it a beautiful day?" etc.

I've discovered that a sense of gratitude is a reward in itself.

With it, the world and our life takes on a new meaning.

The death of a spouse is at the top of a list of life's stresses. For a time, the grief experienced is akin to a form of madness IMO.

But I can say with hindsight that it was a sense of gratitude that, in time, allowed me to once again enjoy and value life.

Gratitude to my soul-mate for sharing love and some wonderful years together.

Gratitude to God for allowing me to see that the life we shared was more significant than his death.

Indeed, to shut down in grief and despair, would be to dishonour his love and it's value in my life.

Mike Paterson - I chuckled when I read the opening paragraphs of your reflection - then I read it aloud to Mr. Seeler.  As one who has had digestive problems (bowels) all my adult life I can tell you that I give thanks whenever everything is working right.  But its not a witness that I feel comfortable sharing.   Thanks for giving me the opportunity.

Shen I am open to it I find the Holy all around me, but especially in the little things.  I remember once I spent the better part of two months lying in a hospital bed (Crohns disease - see above paragraph).  Much of that time it seems that I had an IV in one arm, and often a blood transfusion in the other.  The nurses gave me a sponge bath in my bed most days.  Finally came the day when they allowed me up to take a bath.  The nurse prepared the water  pushed me in a wheelchair down to the room, helped me in, put the buzzer within easy reach, and left me to enjoy.  I sank down into that warm soothing water and I enjoyed!   And I gave thanks for water - abundant water in this part of the world.  Hot and cold running water at our finger tips.  What a luxury - that most of the world doesn't have.  

And air.  I'm thankful for the air I breath.  Much of the time it is clean and pure.  And I don't even think about it as I breath in and out.  Except when it carries a whif of wood smoke, or the smell of lilacs in the front yard, or green grass, or pine or cedar.   Or is so clear that the sky is blue and the colours magnificant.  Thank God for air. 

The ordinary - the little things that make life good.   Yes, I find myself giving thanks. 

Aye, Seel... isn't warm water heavenly! Wood smoke was my dad's special love. Every time I smell it, I hear his voice; for my mother, it was lavendar... same thing. It's funny how powerfully these things carry meaning with them...

Before I share the contents of my journal, I have a confession to make - I totally forgot to answer the question about where God is in my life. The answer, it seems to me, is that God is everywhere and in everything - in all aspects of my life - from the mundane to the extraordinary.

Sometimes it can be hard to find the holy in the ordinary. Washing the dishes doesn't exactly inspire hymns of praise in my heart. In fact, it is exactly the opposite: boring and mundane. Many chores are like that, but if you break them down into their key elements it can be much easier to find the holiness within them. Take time to think about the work that went into creating that plate that you are washing. Who put it together and what did they use? What are their lives like? What kind of food was on that plate and where did it come from? Take that dish and dip it into the water. Where did that water come from and how did it get into your home? What about the detergent and dish rag - who created them and what did they use? When I start to think of my chores in that way, it is easier to feel more connected to the world and to find the holiness in the task. I then lift up the parts of creation that I have been thinking about to God in prayer. I lift up all the people, whose names I will never know, who created the plate, detergent and dish rag and those farmers who raised the food that I ate to God in a prayer of thanksgiving. I try to give God prayers of thanks often because I like to be thanked, so I think God must like it too.

Our Reflection Questions then are:  Where do you find the holy in the ordinary? How is !@* working in your life today? How are you returning to !@* in thanks and praise?

I thought a poem might be the best way ...

 !@* Is Ordinary Like an Ocean

!@*  is the ordinary

like stars and dust

like an ocean

the energy of our thoughts 

and  consequences of our deeds 

small and large

love

unfolding out of the past

flowing into the now

rippling out forever

action and reaction

matter to energy

energy to matter

everywhere

and in every life

feed and sustain !@*

as !@* sustains us

build ripples into waves of !@*

on an ocean of !@*

think thankful thoughts of !@*

and sing songs for !@*

   Good morning. Below is the synopsis and suggested discussion questions for today's Rising with the Morning Star reading. Thank you!

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Thursday | Day 14 | Blind Faith

"He said, 'Lord, let me see again.' Jesus said to him, 'Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.'" Luke 18:41-42

On the outskirts of Jericho, a blind beggar on the side of the road calls out to Jesus to heal him as he passed by, followed by a crowd. The leaders of the procession told the blind man to be quiet, but he was persistent and keep calling out until Jesus called him over and healed him. His sight was restored, but that wasn't the only thing healed. The man then left his place of begging on the roadside and became a follower of Jesus. Healing comes when God brings to us a new sense of the "who" and "what" of our lives and community. This work isn't something that can always been seen with the eye.

Reflection Questions: Have you ever discovered a new sense of who and what you are through your faith? Is something new been revealed you about your community or the world when you view it from a spiritual perspective and not just at face value? 

Rising with the Morning Star (UCPH, 2010)

Have I ever discovered a new sense of who and what I am through my faith?

Yes.

Faith, together with experience and curiosity. Faith is the bonding together of all the senses and capacities (faith has no content itself, it's what holds content in balance: it's an activity): faith is what makes "sense" of our experience and ideas. Faith is what distills meaning in life and reveals it to us. Without some small dimension of faith (and faith can be learned in many ways) we'd have no idea of who or what we are; we would be weightless, mindless, meaningless, indifferent, drifting about in breezes of inconsequence.

Is something new revealed to me about my community and the world when I view it from a spiritual perspective and not just at face value? 

I'm not sure what you mean by a "spiritual perspective"... to me, it would mean dealing with life as revelations of meaning. If that's the case, then my answer has to be, "of course".

By "face" value" I'm guessing you mean seeing things as discrete, single-surfaced, disconnected, free-standing entities.  If that's the case, a "face value" world does not exist; indeed, it could not. There's no such thing as "face value"... believing in it would be a very painful form of alienated insanity. "Face value" is an oxymoron: "face" can have no value. "Value" has to do with entireties, with "wholes".

Is something new revealed to me about my community and the world when I view it from a spiritual perspective and not just at face value? 

Sometimes what is revealed is good, sometimes it isn't.  Some days all the evidence points to the fact that my community is pinched and mean spirited; all lye soap and oatmeal; all cheap, crabbed and provincial; all potholed streets and unlit porchlights; all crabbing about taxes and the expense of public art and the cost of building worthy public spaces; blighted by a worldview built around the idea of scarcity.  But I try to be generous and then I see a town where people came to textile mills over 150 years ago (mostly from Scotland) to work long days and live hard lives that were preferable to the past and the future they had in the old country (which as far as I can tell was mostly nothing).  Then I see bravery and perseverance and the scars and traumas of the original inhabitants moving on down through the culture and the years.  Then I see a town and people doing the best they can (which is incredibly well) given modest beginnings.  Their frugality is a badge of courage and decency and the beautiful town they built just glows.  Their honesty and endearing loyalty and decency comes to the fore.

As I said above, my faith is that !@* includes (without limiting the generality of my post yesterday) the sum of all those worthy energies, dreams, hardships and intentions and is visible daily in my life.

Reflection Questions: Have you ever discovered a new sense of who and what you are through your faith? Is something new been revealed you about your community or the world when you view it from a spiritual perspective and not just at face value?

One of my favourite movies is  "It's A Wonderful Life". The main character George thinks his life has missed the mark, and it's not until he's reminded by an angel that his life has affected many people in a positive way, that he realizes he's the richest man in town.

The survivors of the earthquake in Japan, Haiti, or New Zealand, that lost everything, I'm sure didn't think about gathering everything they had accumulated throughout their lives. It was their very life and their loved ones that held the most importance when it came down to the awful realization that they needed to save themselves and each other.

On a smaller but similar scale it's been that way in my life too. I have gone through the good and the bad, but without family and God's love it's all for naught. When it comes down to the crunch, God doesn't offer me a new house or a new car to get over it, what I'm offered is a new perspective of what's really important in my life. I'm offered a spiritual integrity that assures me that I am worthy and so is everyone else no matter how the world may measure success. We are all  people of God and that more than anything is worth hanging onto because love trumps everything.

 "A Wonderful Life" ... great movie.  One of my favourites too.  This is a great post Waterfall.  I agree that "love trumps everything". 

I think we make it hard on ourselves and everyone around us. It is very simple to say, "In everything do others as you would have them do to you". Matt 7:13 and in other writings besides the bible - The Golden Rule - Agape.

And then, Love God, love self and love neighbour as self.

It is simple to say but if everyone of all religions and non-religions lived these to the fullest, Lent might be a time to celebrate rather than contemplate.

 Of course it is the "in everything" part that is difficult.  Otherwise we might be able to feel better about our "humanitarian work" using our F-18's in Libya.

A little comment on yesterday's theme.  At Presbytery on Tuesday, one person described laundry room spirituality.  While taking each item of clothing out of the washing machine, think of the person who wore it last, what they were doing, and your connections with that person or the significance of what you were doing when you wore that piece of clothing.

Faith is one part of my continual self-discovery process, made necessary by my continuous evolution as a person, partly because of the impact of faith.

"Have you ever discovered a new sense of who and what you are through your faith?"

My fundamental sense of who and what I am is founded on my faith. My faith defines me every day, in ways large and small. It shapes how I look at the world, how I interact with others, how I think about life's big issues.

Even when there are times that my faith feels weak and I feel far from God, I'm aware of this as an absence. I feel God's presence even when I choose to ignore it...patiently waiting for me. Even when I act in ways that I know are contrary to God's calling, when I choose not to live out of my faith, I'm aware at some level that I'm doing this.

I think of my faith as a humming chord that vibrates inside me, sometimes loud and sometimes soft, but always there.

 Hey Jim ... laundry room spirituality ... Great concept ...  As long as I don't have to contemplate anyone's underwear!

Through faith I have discovered a spiritual dimension to my life.

With God as my companion on this journey, I now have the confidence to take the road less travelled.

More and more I will reach out in love, trust and hope - and turn my back on fear and her handmaidens, judgement, suspicion and control.

From a spiritual perspective I now have a better understanding of the essence of Jesus's witness.

His "Kingdom of God" is what our world could be. A world lived in love and not fear.

I now experience this world in microcosm - a church community rather than a congregation.

I know what being part of a loving community feels like and acts like - and the world IS a better place.