- Isaiah 52: 7-10
- Psalms 98: 1, 2-3, 3-4, 5-6
- Hebrews 1: 1-6
- John 1: 1-18
- Peace can be hard to do
- Peace is a big part of this season, yet so much in our world offers us anything but peace during this time. What brings peace to you?
- Is a godly peace just a temporary pause in the routine to catch our breath, or is there something transformative about it?
- What about Jesus makes Him the Prince of Peace?
- Planting a victory garden
- As I understand it, victory gardens during WWII were hailed as every citizen's humble ability to support the war effort by growing crops for themselves on their own land and saving the food that they didn't have to buy for the war effort. What sorts of things can we do, in our own capacity, to help the victory that Christ is working toward?
- We know how this is all going to end, so why does it matter what little contribution we can make?
- Where has Christ had some victories in your life lately?
- We are all creative
- Do you feel that creation is pretty much a done deal, that God built all of this, wound it up, and then just turned it loose, or do you think that He's actively creating even as we speak?
- Do you think that any/each of us has an active role in that ongoing creation?
- Why do you think that matters?
- You light up my life
- The phrase "bringing it to light" speaks of revealing something, good or bad, which previously was unknown. Those who fear the light fear being open about who they really are, the deep struggles that they face, the demons that they wrestle with.
- How important is it to our various communities that we are transparent with each other?
- What can we do to earn each other's trust?
- If one of us falls, is confession the last word in the healing process, or is there more?
- Am I taking all of the things that put stress on me to God regularly?
- Do I have the opportunity to praise and thank God for all that He has done for/in me?
- What part of God's ongoing revelation am I playing?
- How am I being a light to others?
The Hermit
"How did you find me here?" he asked.
I told the old man that I had heard rumors of a holy man in the woods.
Who had once been a village elder and had disappeared from view.
Who had lived a holy and generous life all his days, and was sorely missed.
He sighed deeply, looked off into the distance, and began in a low voice:
"At first it was fear. I had become aware that so many of them depended on me,
Depended on me to show the way by my life, all I had to do was to be.
But then the questions started coming, questions that had every right to be asked.
I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough life in my answers to sustain the seekers,
So I told them to live with the questions, and come back to me.
And many of them did, many times with new questions, more urgent ones.
And I realized that they were getting closer to the heart of the matter in their lives.
And for the ones who seemed to have the capacity, I would invite them, again,
To live with the questions, and come back to me again.
And a few did, this time with foundation questions about existence, and meaning.
And I would simply invite them to sit with me, in the company of those questions.
And somehow, that simple acceptance of those questions, their legitimacy,
Gave some very courageous members of my village, strength to continue in their journey.
And they would return to me, telling me, and others, how our time together
Had meant so much to them, changed their lives, transformed them.
And gradually, more and more of the village came to venerate my presence
Felt that there was some sort of magic in my gaze,
When all I did was to invite them to be honest with themselves,
And not run away from the hard questions.
But no one believed me that it was that simple, and I became afraid.
Afraid that if I ever had a question that I wanted to run from,
That my one act of cowardice would rock the village, hurt those I loved,
And so I came out here where I could hurt no one.
But, you see, I'm dying now.
It's nothing that needs to be fixed really, it's just time.
But it's also time for me to give away one last gift.
To be grateful for the chance to share my life with my loved ones.
And to give away my death as well,
So that we can all grow together in this final chapter of my time here
And perhaps shed some light on the meaning of life along the way.
So if you don't mind, fetch my cane from the corner over there. We'd best be going.
We have a long walk ahead of us.
Shalom!
I told the old man that I had heard rumors of a holy man in the woods.
Who had once been a village elder and had disappeared from view.
Who had lived a holy and generous life all his days, and was sorely missed.
He sighed deeply, looked off into the distance, and began in a low voice:
"At first it was fear. I had become aware that so many of them depended on me,
Depended on me to show the way by my life, all I had to do was to be.
But then the questions started coming, questions that had every right to be asked.
I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough life in my answers to sustain the seekers,
So I told them to live with the questions, and come back to me.
And many of them did, many times with new questions, more urgent ones.
And I realized that they were getting closer to the heart of the matter in their lives.
And for the ones who seemed to have the capacity, I would invite them, again,
To live with the questions, and come back to me again.
And a few did, this time with foundation questions about existence, and meaning.
And I would simply invite them to sit with me, in the company of those questions.
And somehow, that simple acceptance of those questions, their legitimacy,
Gave some very courageous members of my village, strength to continue in their journey.
And they would return to me, telling me, and others, how our time together
Had meant so much to them, changed their lives, transformed them.
And gradually, more and more of the village came to venerate my presence
Felt that there was some sort of magic in my gaze,
When all I did was to invite them to be honest with themselves,
And not run away from the hard questions.
But no one believed me that it was that simple, and I became afraid.
Afraid that if I ever had a question that I wanted to run from,
That my one act of cowardice would rock the village, hurt those I loved,
And so I came out here where I could hurt no one.
But, you see, I'm dying now.
It's nothing that needs to be fixed really, it's just time.
But it's also time for me to give away one last gift.
To be grateful for the chance to share my life with my loved ones.
And to give away my death as well,
So that we can all grow together in this final chapter of my time here
And perhaps shed some light on the meaning of life along the way.
So if you don't mind, fetch my cane from the corner over there. We'd best be going.
We have a long walk ahead of us.
Shalom!
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