"enough..."

 

"all of You 

is more than enough

  for all of me..."

I hope you enjoy this video of Chris Tomlin's beautiful song, "Enough" - I trust you will see how it relates to this story from a number of years ago:

It happened just last night. We were sitting in church. I was conducting the service, and in preparation, I'd pulled together the readings straight from the questions that were pressing on my own heart:  "What do I really need - vs. want?" and "When will I know that I have enough?"

Using those questions as my starting point, I'd felt divinely led - as if on a journey through the Bible, and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. I was searching for the message God intended for our worship service - and for me.  I'd felt inspired by Scripture.  But my initial questions still loomed large.

Once I'd finished readings the selections, and we'd joined in silent prayer, I led the congregation in praying aloud the Lord's Prayer. And it was this line, "Give us this day, our daily bread" that I found myself focusing on with genuine hunger.

After singing the second hymn, and reading the announcements, I opened the meeting for the sharing of gratitude, inspiration and testimonies of healing.

And that was when my friend, Andrew - sitting on the sofa in the half-light of a late summer evening - shared a stunning idea. It was one that answered my question, so perfectly, that it was as if I'd posed my query directly to him,  he'd taken it to God, and come back with the perfect response. 

Andrew started his remarks by sharing gratitude for what he was learning from the inmates he visited during his volunteer work at a local jail.  And then, he referred back to one of the statements that I'd read - twice actually - from Science and Health,  as the definition of the word, "enough:"

"Unfathomable Mind is expressed. 

 The depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, 

 and glory of infinite Love fill all space. 

 That is enough!"

It actually took my breath away. It was as if little prickles of energy - and a million fireflies - were lighting up my insides. I actually think I may have gasped.

This was the clear and simple answer I had been listening for.  As I'd prepared for the service, there were two words that had kept poking at me:  "need" and "enough."  

 

 I knew what I most needed.  Again from Mary Baker Eddy:

  

"What we most need is the fervent desire for growth in grace, 

 expressed in patience, meekness, love, and good deeds."

And this had long become my answer the question of "need."  When suggestions came from within, "I need to know what is next," or "I need to feel thus and so: peace, comfort, love, in order to be - you name it:  happy, satisfied, joyful.." Whenever those false "needs" would project themselves as conditional to my peace, with Eddy's direction, it had become my practice to claim, "No, what I actually need is the burning desire for growth in grace - expressed in patience, meekness, love, and good deeds. 

But the answer to the questions, "What is enough?" "When will I have enough?"  "What would enough look like?" Well, for those questions, I didn't seem to have an answer that satisfied my hunger for something simple, clear, comprehensive, practical - and most importantly - spiritual. 

But Andrew's answer met all of those criteria - perfectly.  And I claimed it, immediately, for myself as one of my five smooth stones for taking down the Goliath suggestion of: "never enough."

I have since discovered that it is truly one of the most wonderful spiritual tools to have at the ready. When the inner critic tries to say I don't have enough, I never will have enough, or that I wouldn't know enough if it bit me on the backside, I can confidently go back to:

"The depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, 

 and glory of infinite Love fill all space." 

Do I need more money, more information, more praise, more entertainment, more comfort -- more, more, more? No, what I need - what I really,  truly, and practically need more of is growth in grace -- patience, meekness, love and good deeds.  

And the depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite Love filling all space is exactly what will meet that need perfectly.  In fact, it is the only thing that can, or will, ever satisfy what I most need.

That is my answer to what is "enough." And it will always be enough.  Love filling all space.  Love governing every heart.  Love filling every moment with opportunity for spiritual self-realization.  Love satisfying every need to trust more, and worry less.  Love redeeming every "wrathful and afflictive" experience as the perfect opportunity to entertain angels unawares.  Love filling the earth with the gladness of growth, the affluence of freshness, the height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite beauty and grace.  

Yes, it is enough. It is always enough.

with Love, 

Cate

"impossible things..."

"You heal the broken-hearted,
You set the captive free,
You lift the heavy burden,
and even now, You are lifting me..."

Ahhh -- friday afternoon.  A welcome milestone, set in a week that has seemed like one spiritual demand being placed on top of another. I could feel that I needed something to really lift my heart. Chris Tomlin's "Impossible Things," was perfect. I found myself singing along, hands raised, body moving -- shouting His praise.

In Chris' Facebook post, he introduces this song of praise with these words:

"During times of trial,
we must retrace the steps of our journey
and remember, God has already done
the impossible in us through His Son."  

Yes, we have the right to remember what we have already witnessed - and experienced - of His power. I remember an afternoon almost 20 years ago when I was feeling so overwhelmed I didn't want to leave the Borders Bookstore Cafe where I was hiding out from my life. There, everything was orderly, someone made hot chocolate that was the perfect temperature, no one spilled juice on my books, or started crying to be held -- the minute I closed my eyes in prayer.

I wanted to give myself ten more minutes before heading back into the storm that was our home with toddler twins. I stood up and walked over the the nearby magazine rack. The latest edition of Oprah's magazine was on display. I picked it up and returned to my neat little table. The last page was always a note from Oprah. I liked reading them first. This one was about the past.

Oprah explained that there had been many years when looking back at her life's journey was fraught with anxiety and pain. The timeline was punctuated with milestone moments. One day she realized that each of those moments was one of abuse, heartache, and fear. There were few, if any, good milestones on that timeline. So she resisted looking back. That didn't mean that the past didn't haunt her, just that she didn't choose to visit it with intention.

That changed the day that she discovered that her timeline was not something she felt in control of. She decided that she would draw out that timeline and put those milestones in place, but that she would go right back to those memories and find something good -- some indication of God's presence in each of those "chapters," of her life.

She said that it took almost a year, but she did it. She reclaimed each of those milestones for God. This so resonated with me.

I will never forget one of the examples she gave. She said that one day she decided it was time to revisit the sexual child abuse she'd suffered at the hand of a family member. It took her a very deep dive into that chapter of her life, but she finally found it, the presence of God. She realized that even in the midst that dark time, she knew that what was happening to her was not right. She had the wisdom to know right from wrong. It was enough to redeem that dark time. Her timeline was forever rewritten.

That was enough for me. I decided to do the same thing. I drew out my timeline and I placed the milestones along the way. And like Oprah, I discovered that mine were all hauntingly dark and negative. Then I took the next few years to go back and reclaim each one for God -- for good.

That chapter after my dad was killed and my family was so desperate for resources, became a chapter filled with creativity and care for one another. The moments that had haunted me with heartbreak became life pages filled with comforting friends and self-discovery.

In the book of Revelation, John promises that:

"The kingdoms of this world
are become the kingdoms of our Lord,
and of his Christ; and he
shall reign for ever and ever."  

Right where the world has tried to stake its claim on our hearts, we have the authority to evict the usurper, cast out the trespasser, and reclaim that real estate on our timeline for God. My timeline was like a volume of Grimm's Fairy Tales when I started -- ogres, demons, bad choices, and very few happy endings. Today it is filled with parables of intuition, testimonies to humility, stories of spiritual growth, forgiveness and grace. If I can do this, anyone can.

In each of our lives, there are moments we want to forget. Moments when we coulda, shoulda, woulda -- if only we'd known better. There are moments when we have felt helpless or hopeless. But these self-repeated false versions of our life story only ratify the world's claim that we are self-creators and that God is helpless in most instances and completely absent in many. So much for an omnipotent and omnipresent God.

We don't have to consent to this hi-jacking of our lives. We can take each moment back for God. And when we do so, we bring that moment back into our present conscious experience, and rewrite it forever. This becomes the current edition. And this is the one we can remember without fear.

Yes, God has done "impossible things" in our lives. Some of those impossible things might seem like life-altering events, and others may only seem like another day when the sun rose again in the east. But it rose. It was there. And you glimpsed its light, you felt its warmth, you were inspired by its constancy -- it was enough. You don't need to have dramatic miracles -- only those moments we you felt the presence of good -- however faintly -- and you knew you were there.  The milestones have been set in order -- like cairns that stand the test of time.

Here, the timeline becomes a lens through which every moment is alive wth possibility for redemption and the promise of impossible things -- remembered.

offered with Love,

Kate

"a little girl, and a smooth stone..."

"At the end of the day
I will hope they will say,
that my heart looks like Your heart,
that my heart looks like Your heart..."

Chris Tomlin's  "My Heart" came as the soundtrack to this memory of my experience with school violence.

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I spent my childhood being "the new girl." We moved so often that instead of counting sheep when I can't sleep, I try to remember addresses, telephone numbers, floor plans, zip codes.

I was not the pretty, confident new girl -- that was my younger sister. And as long as I was with her, I wasn't afraid. But she was in the grade behind mine and although our classrooms were near one another in every school, she wasn't in the room with me.  I was the bookworm, the shy girl, the just-pretend-I-am-not-here girl.

For the most part, my love for learning made every classroom a safe, happy place for me. Teachers generally love a new student who lives for the sheer pleasure of doing well in any (and every) subject. And even though I dreaded the playground, I loved the classroom. Desks that were textured by years of use, the scent of fresh chalk on the blackboard, the sound of a pencil sharpener -- I loved it all. It was familiar and safe.

That was until I reached sixth grade. We'd moved to a new neighborhood. I was excited to finally be in the oldest class of elementary school. Yes, I was terrified about junior high. But that wasn't for another year. For now, I was happy to be in the graduating class.

But all my dreams of a wonderful school year -- one filled with awards, opportunities to shine, a teacher who would help me get ready for junior high - evaporated on the first day of class.

I was small. I was a bit of a timid mouse. I didn't like attention. But I liked being smart. I wasn't a child who raised her hand. I was the student who proved that she knew what she knew by doing well on tests, essays, assignments turned in at their completion -- not by speaking out.

From the second I entered Mr. S's classroom I felt threatened. His was a reign of terror. Everything was based on his experience as the immigrant son of nationalist Germans who felt misunderstood and persecuted in post-WWII America. He was a man who proudly declared that his father had served in the German Army during the war, and that his mother had been an "officer" in the Bund Deutscher Mädel - the Youth organization for girls.

I was terrified of Mr. S. And my response to that terror was to try even harder to win him over. Little did I know that - for some reason - this was the opposite of how to survive in his world order.

Mornings in Mr. S's classroom began with the playing of the music (only the music -- not the lyrics -- he wasn't a fool) to "Deutschland über alles"  - the German National anthem under Hitler's regime. We would, strangely enough, follow that musical prelude with the Pledge of Allegiance, and then an examination of our hands, faces, and the bottoms of our shoes for cleanliness.

One day, during the playing of Hayden's "Austria," - the music that underscores "Deutschland über alles" I must have had a peaceful smile on my face that was disarming to him. He came to stand in front of my desk -- paunchy belly, thick, heavy straw-colored hair flopping over his eyes, jowly chin and asked, "well, well, little rat, what is making you so happy today?"

I replied that I loved that piece of music. He narrowed his eyes at my prim, mousy little self and asked why I like it so much. I said that it was one of the hymns in our church's hymnal. This must have piqued his interest, because he asked me, "and what church do you go to that sings Deutschland über Alles as a hymn?" I told him I didn't know those words, but that, at our Christian Science church, we had a song that had the same music.

Suddenly he exploded. He grabbed me by the collar, dragged me to the very front of the room, pulled a desk right under the American flag and pushed me into a chair. He went on to rage - to the rest of the class - that I was not a Christian. That "these Christian Scientists" were not followers of Jesus. That I needed to be humbled in the sight of "our Lord."

From that moment on, my sixth grade classroom became a torture chamber. I was humiliated daily. Forced to say the Pledge of Allegiance alone, outloud in front of the class, and if I hesitated or made a mistake, I would have to say it again. I was called little rat girl. I was tiny and I had a slender face and when I smiled my eyes were all squinty. It seemed to give him pleasure to attach that name to a small child. And when the mean boys in the class took up his new nickname for me with enthusiasm, he encouraged them.

But his harshest act would be his most silent. Mr. S carried a keyfob with a small bottle of cognac encased in a resin block at the end of a short chain. He would take it out of his pocket and swing it in circles until the cognac inside of the little bottle frothed. When he was ready, he would walk over to my desk and hit me sharply on the head with the corner of the little resin square. Then he was say, in front of the class, "Well little rat, how did that illusion feel?  Can you pray it away?"

For hours I would be dizzy and in pain. This went on for weeks. I was afraid to tell my parents because I thought that if they told the principal, my life would get harder. There was only one sixth grade class in that school. And as much as I wanted to be safe with my brave sister, I didn't want to go back to fifth grade.

Finally, one Friday his sharp attack broke the skin on my head, left another huge lump, and I could barely think straight for the rest of the day. I knew I couldn't go on like that for the rest of the year. On Sunday, I waited until after Sunday School to talk with my Sunday School teacher. She was a Christian Science practitioner and one of the things I knew about Christian Science practitioners, was that they had to keep whatever you told them a secret -- just between the two of you.

I told her what had been happening and she held me close and cried. I didn't expect that. On the one hand, I was completely horrified that I had made her cry, and on the other, I was so grateful to know that someone cared about me.

When she had composed herself, she reminded me of the story of David and Goliath. We talked about David eschewing the King's weapons and armor -- even a helmet.  And I could have really used one of those!  Instead he had taken five smooth stones from a brook. And with just one of these stones, he had smote the giant.

She explained that I, too, had five smooth stones. Spiritual ideas that I had worked till they were well-honed. And that I could use them as my armor and my response to Mr. S's goading, humiliation, and painful abuse. She also told me -- and this was long before health-care professionals were legally required to report child abuse -- that she would have to speak with my parents.  I kinda knew that was coming.

She asked me what I thought my five smooth stones were. I remember two of the five I came up with: I love God. I am smart. She then told me that I should pick one to use the next day in class. I should hold it in my heart and be willing to let it fly in the face of rage, hatred, and violence. I chose: "I love God." I know she talked to my dad later that dad -- but I was not part of that conversation.

The next morning, as I stood in front of the classroom to say the Pledge of Allegiance - all by myself - I almost screamed the line: "one nation under God..." It seemed to shock him. This meek, little mouse of a girl roaring about God. Then I sat down. When he came over to my desk during math, swinging his keychain, I looked up at him and said, "I love God." He didn't say anything, but he also didn't slam that keyfob on the crown of my head.

Within a week we had a long-term substitute for the rest of the year. I don't know if my parents or my Sunday School teacher spoke with the school, I only know that my sister did not have to have Mr. S for sixth grade the next year.  We moved before the following year so I don't know if he ever came back.

Teachers are people. I was one. I loved being in the classroom with children. Most teachers have the noblest motives for doing what they do. But some teachers are carrying around stories, memories, and hurts that haven't been healed or resolved. For these teachers, a classroom can be used inappropriately. We need to provide healing support to both teachers and students who are facing demons they haven't exorcized.

When I think of teachers being armed in the classroom, I am reminded of Mr. S., and I am grateful that he was only carrying a bottle of cognac encased in a block of resin. His rage was sudden, and his willingness to take all that unresolved angry hurt out on a small child, was without any perceivable sense of self-knowledge or remorse. His willingness to teach gentle little boys and girls to model his violent, humiliating behavior towards another student -- was unchecked. He needed to be protected from himself -- and his stories.

We need to love the bully enough to separate him (or her) from settings that allow them to act out their rage with the social weapons of sarcasm, humiliation, harassment, revenge, and violence.  This separation is not dismissive.  It does not ignore the issue, but provides a setting conducive to counseling, compassion -- and yes, healing.

This experience actually made me love Hayden's "Austria" even more.  Lyrics to that hymn read:

"On the Rock of Ages founded,
What can shake thy sure repose?
By salvation’s walls surrounded
Thou mayst smile at all thy foes...."

For me, the Rock of Ages is not a big boulder, it is a smooth stone. With one smooth stone in our hearts, nothing can offend us. Nothing can reach within the walls of what we know at the very core of our being. Nothing can shake the sure repose that comes from a Truth that we have used, and proven.

And then, we actually can smile at our foes -- because, in Truth, we have no enemies. Even as a little girl, I could see that Mr. S's stories about his parents and the war -- were not filled with pride, but the confusion and hurt of a little boy trying to make sense of it all, while still find his way in the world.  I can't imagine what it was like to live in this country as a German after the war. I can only hope that by reminding him that I was a real girl - who loved God, he was able to find a smooth stone of his own to smite the giant in his own stories.


offered with Love,

Kate

"my first love..."

"You are still my first love,
You're my guiding light
You're with me in the fire
You lead me through the night..."

Last week I returned from a love-affirming trip to California, where I had the honor of marrying two beautiful men, and visiting with my sister and her family.

The drive out had been an exercise in refuting the evidence of the senses. Thirty hours in the car, and all of them spent in prayer. First, because I loved having that time to commune with God. And second, because I was facing a very painful physical situation. Not going, was not an option. So prayer became the only path to getting there. By the day of the wedding, I was pain-free -- but that is another story.

This post is about my return trip -- another thirty hours in the car. And although this thirty hours was not what I'd  expected, it was so filled to the brim - with love and prayer - that it was even more beautiful than I could have imagined. All week, I have loved listening to Chris Tomlin's "My First Love." It perfectly keynotes this experience.  But I am getting ahead of myself.  This story begins on a foggy Monday in San Francisco.

As I drove away from my sister's home that morning, I was completely free of the pain that had kept me awake, and in focused prayer, for the entire drive out only days earlier. My heart was filled with humble gratitude -- for what I'd learned about my love for God, and God's love for me.  During those agonizing hours alone in the car, I'd lived my resolve to completely trust in His care. 

But now, I was looking forward to a peaceful drive home. I was thinking about the scenery I'd actually be able to enjoy this time around, about the sidetrips I was hoping to make in little towns along the way, and the music I was going to be able to sing along to. For just a moment, I indulged in a sigh of relief, after what had felt like a long siege.

Once over the Golden Gate Bridge, I parted with my sister, her husband, and their sweet dogs - Mollie and Bear. I felt confident about my trip strategy, and I had my heart set on an early evening stop in the small mountain town of Truckee where I would grab a light dinner before sunset. 

Leaving Truckee - as the sky turned from blue, to salmon, to lavender - I was a bit surprised that I had yet to fill the car with music. But the silence had been such good company.  And I knew I had a long night of driving ahead. James Taylor, Carly Simon, Linda Ronstadt, and others would get their due as I navigated the Great Basin and the Great Salt Lake under a star-studded sky.

Heading through Reno, my heart was overflowing. I recounted with gratitude, all that I'd witness of God's healing/transforming love that weekend. It had been such a beautiful time of devotion to friendship and family. I felt so blessed.

Just after I saw Reno fading in my rearview mirror, traffic came to a sudden stop. No warning, no signage, just stopped. I knew I was heading into the "wilderness" phase of my drive -- hours and hours of empty landscape from Reno to Salt Lake City with very few towns in between. I needed to do it in the dark, as the daytime temperatures had been hovering between 105 and 110 degrees across the desert that week. I had my fuel stops planned, and I knew where the best rest areas were for pulling over and napping. But my schedule was dependent on doing this portion of the drive during the cooler night hours.

After about 45 minutes of sitting at a stand still -- with only a handful of cars coming in the other direction on Interstate 80 -- a car finally pulled onto the medium and told us that there was a wildfire raging in the foothills, and that it had jumped the interstate. We were being turned around and sent back to Reno for a detour.

Heading back towards Reno, I started feeling unsettled and shaken. I knew the detour would take me completely off schedule. Besides that, I would be on a two-lane highway in the middle of the night -- a highway known as the "loneliest highway in America," -- no kidding. But, if that was where I was being taken, I would go there. All plans of listening to my favorite Pandora playlist evaporated. I was committed to a night of silence -- and prayer.

About an hour into the detour, Something told me, "take that left hand turn." So I did -- obediently. My GPS guide went a bit ballistic, so I turned her off. Now, it really was, just me and God. 

 I knew I had gone about an hour south, and then an hour east. Heading north again, I knew I would likely reconnect with the Interstate. This seemed like a tangential, but logical, plan.  Since I would be alone in the middle of the night, the Interstate seemed like the better option.

But when I reached I-80 it was almost apocalyptical. I drove through the tiny side-of-the-highway town, and followed the signs to the on ramp. The town felt deserted, and when I pulled onto the Interstate, it was absolutely empty of cars and trucks. Driving east, I realized I was the only vehicle traveling on either side of the road. Suddenly, I was engulfed in smoke. But the Voice told me to keep driving. So I did.

On my right and left, I saw rivers of flame flowing through canyons and racing down the hillside towards the interstate. "Keep driving," the Voice kept repeating, "I am with you in the flames." So I did. Mile-after-mile of dense smoke, empty highway, flames visible through intermittent breaks in the ash-filled night air. Flames that crested the hillsides to the north and south. And every once in a while, there would be a clearing above --  where stars were cradled in a bowl of midnight sky.

I was not afraid. I knew the truth -- that beyond all that smoke,  there was a clear night sky. I knew that I was not alone. Just as I had not been alone on the drive out -- when pain tried to suck any sense of peace from my experience.  I knew that I was not a fragile mortal, alone in the car driving across the Great Basin. I was with the One I loved. I was with the One who loved me even more than my husband, my children, and my community. I was with my first love -- God.  I was clear about one thing.  I only knew how to love anyone -- including my loved ones -- because of this first Love.

So, I listened the way one listens to their first love. I listened to my Beloved tell me about Him. About His love for creation. About His beautiful universe. About His love for me.  About His love for the couple I'd married earlier that week.  About His love for our children, my sister's work, my friends, the geo-political world I'd been so concerned about all winter and spring.

I'd always loved taking road trips with those I loved -- boyfriend, finance', husband, girlfriends -- and eventually, with my daughters. I loved listening to them tell stories about their lives. I loved asking things like, "when you hear this song, what is the first memory that comes to mind," or "what are your dreams, your hopes, your plans."

But that night, I listened to God with the same eager intimacy -- with a sweet sense of being alone together in the dark on an empty highway with the one I loved -- with my first love.

In the book of Revelation, John admonishes the church at Ephesus saying:

"I know thy works, and thy labour, and thy patience...
and for my name’s sake hast laboured, and hast not fainted.
Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee,
because thou hast left thy first love..."  

I smiled thinking of this verse that night. It had always been one of my favorite passages in Scripture. I just loved it, but I didn't know that I always knew what it felt like -- really felt like -- to know God as my "first love."  That night, I felt it. 

 On the drive out, the pain had demanded that I needed to turn to God -- to know Him -- in order to simply get through the night. But this was different.  This was love. 
There was a sweet intimacy to our time together in the wilderness of the Great Basin, with wildfires raging around us. Right there, in the car, we were quietly, intimately, peacefully in oneness -- amid the smoke, and the darkness, and the emptiness of that lonely highway.

Sometime during the night - after I seemed to have driven well-beyond the fires - I pulled into a rest area.  I hoped to take a short nap before the sun came up, and the temperatures in the desert rose. I curled into the backseat and felt so tenderly held by my "first love." However, when I awoke in the cloying heat, I was feeling very ill.  But it just didn't matter -- I knew I was going to be fine. I was with my Love. I called a Christian Science practitioner for support, and pulled back onto the highway, letting only His voice speak to me, and tell me what I felt. 

Seventeen hours later I pulled into our driveway. It had been such a sweet, holy journey.  After I turned off the engine, I just sat there in the silence. It had been the most beautiful road trip of my life.

I will never forget this time with my first love -- my always, and forever, and eternal  -- first love.


offered with gratitude -- and with Love,

Kate

"The widow's mite - more than enough..."

“You satisfy me
with your Love.
And all I have in You,
is more than enough...”

I know I've written about this subject before in a previous post, but I've been thinking about Chris Tomlin's "Enough," again, in light of Mary Baker Eddy's statement:

“The depth, breadth, height, might, majesty,
and glory of infinite Love fill all space.
That is enough!”.”

and a story that was recently shared on TMCYouth's Radical Acts comment thread for "Sell all you have, and give to the poor." The contributor, Nina, shared:

A friend told me a beautiful story yesterday about $20 being enough.

This was back in the ’40s in a rural African-American community. My friend was doing odd jobs, looking for work. An elderly woman asked him to do major repairs on her house. When he finished, she gave him $20. It was a small amount for all that work, but it was all she had. If he’d accept it, she said, God would make sure he’d never lack for a day in his life.

He graciously accepted it, never doubting. Two days later he was invited to begin construction work at a military facility. He ended up running a large crew, earned enough to raise his seven daughters, and gained the respect of the whole community. He retired with a generous pension 37 years, 4 months, and 13 days later.

“Sell all you have and give to the poor” can’t have a rigid meaning. What’s all? Who’s poor? Only GIVING seems to matter — giving something that’s not trivial to you.

So, today I've been thinking about this concept of infinite Love being "enough," in conjunction with another loved spiritual insight I've written about, "the law of appreciation" (when we appreciate something -- acknowledge, and are grateful for it's value, it appreciates -- grows in value) and how our concepts of "time" would measure, limit, and undermine our ability to see the timeless nature of Love's expanding care for us.

Here is my comment in response to Nina's:

I love this Nina…

When we give from the deep heart of Love…impelled by Love, resourced by Love, full of Love…it is always enough.

Since reading your post I have been thinking about the “time” element in this story. We might be tricked into thinking, “ah yes, it was in the 40s and $20 went further…” But if time is not a factor (but only as Mrs. Eddy said: “a mortal measurement”)
then whatever has value can’t have (as you have suggested) a rigid value. Value is a spiritual concept and must be as expansive as Sprit itself. So, instead of something that represents “value” ever shrinking, it must grow, expand, appreciate. And when we appreciate something (see recognize it’s value and are grateful) it appreciates (grows in value).

This is a spiritual concept, “the law of appreciation,” that I have been exploring for a couple of decades now, but your story about this woman’s promise that “if he accepted it (her widow’s mite…which had GREAT value to her) he would never lack for a day in his life” seems to have given me another piece of the puzzle. Appreciation doesn’t know time…it only knows it’s own nature…it’s own operation of spiritual law…gratitude and growth, gratitude and growth. Always expanding, never confined to the rigidity of “time” (mortal measurements).

This is leading me deeper...

I don't know where this thought-thread is going to take me today, but I know it's of value, it has substance, and I am not going to be distracted from appreciating it...and watching it appreciate in my heart.

Here is a link to the "Sell all that you have, and give to the poor," thread on Radical Acts if you would like to see all the comments in context.

always with Love,

Kate
so, I was sitting by the river, "thinking on these things" and here are some follow-up thoughts that have set my heart on fire:

one more thought…if time is not a factor in Spirit, every single act of generosity (without any regard for mortal measurements…) when appreciated continues to appreciate FOREVER!! It is always growing in value in our lives, always expanding, always appreciating…each time we appreciate what we have received from the great heart of Love (widow’s mite, or millionaire’s charity…it doesn’t matter in Spirit, they are both just expressions of illimitable, infinite Love) we are “watering” our field of vision so that we can SEE what expansive good is already in front of us.

So, perhaps it’s both about the giving, and the “accepting” (to use the woman’s term) how we accept the Love-inspired gift (with gratitude, wonder, appreciation) engages us more fully in this law of appreciation that is timeless, unstoppable, ever-expansive….

more to noodle on…whewww…I LOVE Radical Acts…full engagement!!!

again with Love, Kate

"the desire to be remarkable...."

"Who has told every lightning bolt
where it should go?
Or seen heavenly storehouses
laden with snow?
Who imagined the sun
and gives source to its light?
Yet conceals it to bring us
the coolness of night.
None can fathom it.

Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky
and You know them by name.
You are amazing God.

All powerful, untameable,
Awestruck we fall to our knees
as we humbly proclaim,
You are amazing God.

Incomparable, unchangeable...
You see the depths of my heart,
and You love me the same.
You are amazing God.
You are amazing God..."

A friend recently raised the question of personal "legacy." And as we talked about whether our legacy, or the lasting impact we make on the world, was something we choose, or something that is handed to us, I couldn't help but remember this post from a few years ago, and just how serendipitously it had unfolded in my heart. Then when another friend reminded me of it today, it seemed as if it were just asking to be re-posted. So, I offer it here...with love:

"Indescribable, undeniable..."

Chris Tomlin's song, "Indescribable," reminds me of Mary Baker Eddy's statement:

"Patience is symbolized by the tireless worm, creeping
       over lofty summits, persevering in its intent."

There is something so extraordinary about seeing the wonder, and purpose, in every blade of grass, each tiny catepillar, every molecule of stardust, every dandelion seed...every one of us.  Each of us.  You, me, us them, that...yes, everything...filled with hope, passion, gratitude, tenderness, tenacity, vigor, beauty...love.  It stuns me, it takes my breath away, leaves me pregnant with joy, on tiptoe with expectation, hovering at the edge of the horizon waiting for the sun to rise and a leaf to turn in response to the sun's shining and awaken to her own shimmering color, movement, form, and grace.  In like manner, we each turn to God, and discover our own unique, divinely appointed purpose and promise.

"Nothing is so common,
as the desire to be remarkable."

This axiom of Shakespeare's rings so true, speaks with such authenticity of voice, that it took me by surprise the first time I heard it.  I believe that we all leap towards this common hope, we lean into our collective desire to make a difference, and we rise on wings of our awakened potential in answer to the compelling call from within, gently whispering, "you might really be remarkable"...worthy of remark...in the eyes of God.

But, the ego...the only real enemy of the spiritual man...doesn't want us to answer that calling. It tries to convince us that what we really want, is to be better than someone else, more intelligent, more inspired, talented, worthy, holy, strong, wanted, deserving. The ego thrives on comparison, competition, and compliments.  But I don't think this is what we want at all.  I think what we are longing for, is to know that we have worth and purpose in God's eyes,  To know that we fit into a divine plan, that we are on the right track, and that we are fulfilling His dreams for us as His beloved children.  We want to please our divine parent.

A friend, who is an elementary school teacher, recently shared this story with me:

"So, I was sitting here today when one of my students brought a book over to me. It was a religious board book called Hermie: A Common Caterpillar by Max Lucado, but it was the story that got me.

It was about two caterpillars who kept running into other insects that, to    them, had something special that they didn't have.

The snail could carry his house on his back, the ant was super strong, and the lady bug had pretty spots.  Each time they met an animal or insect with something special, they would go to God and say, "why I am so common? Why don't I have anything special?"

God kept telling them that He loved them just they way they were, and that He wasn't finished with them yet.  He had a plan for them, and they had a purpose.

At the end of the story one of the caterpillars went to bed and prayed to God, saying, "You love me, and that makes me special."

The next morning the catepillar woke up in a chrysalis, and then he turned into a butterfly.  He and His friend then understood what God had meant.

They also understood that even though each of us is different, we are all special in our own way because God loves us."

I loved this story.  Such a simple example of how each and every instance of creation...molecule, insect, raindrop, leaf, sparrow, idean, man, woman, and child...has a divine purpose, is filled with promise, and has a spiritual identity that is designed, cherished, nurtured, and maintained by God.

There is something so pure about my friend's experience in the classroom that day.  We all find, in our moments of inner struggle for the wit and will to persevere, that the faint light of love we emit, is enough to gather angels…children who teach us, parents who love us, friends who believe in us, books and stories that inspire our hope…unawares.  Eddy, in speaking to each of us, encourages:

"The lives of great men and women are miracles of patience and perseverance.  Every luminary in the constellation of human greatness, like the stars, comes out in the darkness to shine with the reflected light of God."

Each of us is uniquely beautiful, incomparable, remarkable in His divine design.  We created with the inherit desire, a spiritual longing towards this spiritual purpose.  There is an inner compass that draws us towards our own North Star, our spiritual family homestead...the kingdom of heaven within...where we are always welcomed with joy, handed a dishtowel, and  pointed in the direction of the kitchen where we are thrilled to fill our special niche in time and eternity.  

I love the way J.G. Bennett describes this spiritual homing device within our hearts:

"Spiritual homesickness is necessary for us. 

It remains in our heart most of the time.  But sometimes, there are periods we go through when we are constantly aware of being bereft of something.  And when this feeling comes we have to watch over the purity of that desire, and not misuse it.  The feeling is, in itself, authentic. It is an indication of being near enough to something to be aware of its worth.  One doesn't really feel deprived until one is close."

To be close to our Father's house is to recognize a familiar landscape. To hear the sounds of our childhood...the way the wind whistles through the tall grass in the pasture, the call of indigenous songbirds, the whinnying of horses in paddock. We know that our Father, God, is the Patriarch of this homestead. And we know that He is waiting patiently on the porch, searching the horizon for our silouette to appear in the backlight of a risen morn. Our hearts leap, our pace increases, the past falls away behind us in the deepening blue of twilight. 

Our divine Parent is waiting to hand us our assignment and to tell us that He always knew we "had it in us." He knows that we are capable of being indescribably wonderful...of making a difference.  He is waiting to greet us, each and every day, with our unique calling in His heart, our spiritual purpose on His lips, and a fresh new task at hand.  He is waiting for us, for me and for you...to just show up. Joining Him in the harvest we become heirs of all we see. 

It's always time to come home to who we are.  To come home to the lives we have been perfectly designed to live.  In His eyes we are amazing, remarkable, indescribably wonderful, fascinating, worthy, deserving...we are beloved. We are His beloved....always.
Kate


Here is a version of Chris Tomlin's "Indescribable" without the lyrics, but with beautiful imagery.

"And forget not His benefits..."

"Take my life and let it be
consecrated Lord, to Thee.
Take my moments and my days,
let them  flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands and let them move
at the impulse of They love..."

As I drove home from the office today, reports about unemployment rates, new figures on job creation, and benefits for workers filled the airwaves. Some number were encouraging, others filled my prayer agenda for the rest of the drive. I couldn't help but begin with a prayer of gratitude for spiritual job security...and an extraordinarily generous Employer. I hope this earlier post explains why:

"Take my life..."

I remember the first time I heard our Sunday School superintendent read the first line of the hymn "Take my life and let it be..." (enjoy this video by Chris Tomlin) during our opening exercises.  It was one of those moments you never forget as a kid.  But first the set-up to the story:

My family watched Ed Sullivan's variety show, almost religiously on Sunday evenings, when I was growng up.. It was our "tradition." Mom would make homemade pizzas, dad would break out a few bottles of his garage-brewed rootbeer. We'd gather our Lesson books for marking, and sit on a a blanket of newspapers for our weekly picnic in the living room in front of the TV. The Wonderful World of Disney, Bonanza, and Ed Sullivan were the line up for the only-show-in-town. And one Sunday, Henny Youngman had been the featured comic on Ed's show . 

So, as I sat in Sunday School the following week, I couldn't help but remember his now famous line "take my wife...please," and began giggling...and then my friends started giggling, and soon everyone in our class was giggling. We were giggling so hard, that we couldn't sing.  Mrs. Garren wasn't pleased.  From that moment on, this was my first thought everytime I heard the words to that hymn. All through my years in Sunday School...again and again...fist the giggling, then the disappointed looks from the teacher...it happened every time.

I don't' if it was just the simple fact that I became an adult, but once I heard that hymn in church, as a somewhat more mature listener, it felt inspiring and invigorating.  It's like a "working song" for the consecrated spiritual thinker.

And now, I love it...alot.  There are days when I feel like singing it loudly...holding aloft a banner of solidarity. Marching around my office like a contemporary Norma Rae!

A recent Scriptural keynote from my Bible study that read:

"Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all His benefits..."

had me feeling like I was hanging out with members of a spiritual healer's labor union.  It encouraged me to think about, and appreciate, the extraordinary "benefits package" I enjoy as a fully vested employee in my Father's, spiritual law office.

Mary Baker Eddy says that,

"The Christian Scientist has enlisted..."

and I have.  I wake up every day with only one purpose...to:

"of mine own self do nothing, but see what the Father doeth..."

I am a witness, an observer, a deep listener, a focused, transfixed, refusing-to-be-distracted-by-false-evidence sentinel with only one thing in my sights...God.  I live to behold...to "see and call attention to" the presence of God...everywhere, in everything, at all times, in everyone, throughout every day, suffusing every moment with divine light.

I am a blue-collar law clerk in the office of God...and only God. In this office, there is only one senior partner, lead counsel, and it is Christ.  I am a willing multi-function employee...clerk, assistant, colleague.  I love my time at the reception desk where I answer the phone, take messages, reply to emails.  I thoroughly enjoy the hours (and hours) I spend in the law library researching precedent setting cases in the Bible, and contemporary publications that chronicle spiritual healing.  I am always honored to be asked to sit at counsel's table in the court room.  Serving the senior partner is fun, sitting next to him and looking into the eyes of the firm's client with great love and encouragement...as I have seen him do so often...is a privilege unlike any other.

But back to my benefits package, which I have promised to "forget not"

Job Security:

"Security for the claims of harmonious existence
is found only in divine Science." 
-  Mary Baker Eddy

There is no greater job security than knowing that your employer will never go out of business and that the work that you do for Him is always going to be of value to His clients.  Humanity will never stop hungering for His love, thirsting for Her wisdom, seeking the bread of salvation and the wine of inspiration He serves, longing for Her tender mercies and loving kindnesses. And my Employer values my devotion to this work...I feel secure in His care.

Health Care Package:

"Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest
prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth."
- John

My Employer, who by the way has all the power in the universe, wants me to prosper and be in health...enough said.

Vision Plan:

"Open Thou his eyes that he may see...
wondrous things out of Thy law"
- Psalms

The HR department at my firm is continually advocating for clarity of vision, a more expanded awareness of good,  greater depth of field, and a more focused line of sight that always, and only, includes His well-framed and light-filled forms of creation.

Retirement and Investment Plan:

"Three times a day, I retire to seek the divine blessing on the sick and sorrowing, with my face toward the Jerusalem of Love and Truth, in silent prayer to the Father which "seeth in secret," and with childlike confidence that He will reward "openly."  -  Mary Baker Eddy

My Employer has the best retirement plan ever...retiring three times daily to seek His blessing in prayer.   Otherwise, from this job I need never retire.  And why would I want to?  I can't imagine a day without the joy of this work.  As for a 401K or matching contribution package...don't need one.  My employer takes care of everything...day by day the manna falls in our office. 

Life Insurance:

"The understanding that Life is God, Spirit,
lengthens our days by strengthening our trust
in the deathless reality of Life,
its almightiness and immortality."
- Mary Baker Eddy

This is the best insurance policy I could ever find...to be assured of the deathless reality of Life, and my Employer ensures this for me every moment of every day.

Child Care:

"All thy children shall be taught of the Lord;
and great shall be the peace of thy children."
- Psalms

God not only cares for my children day in and day out, but He educates them, guides their footsteps, guards their innocence, and gives them wisdom.  I can focus on my work with absolute confidence each day knowing that in His hand their names are graven.  He loves them even more than I do, and never lets them out of His sight.

Tenure, Re-appointment, and Promotions Package:

"He crowneth thee with lovingkindness
and tender mercies..."
- Psalms

The higher I rise in His company...the more I go down in humility, and on my knees, in service to Him.  My job becomes even more focused on expressing His loving kindness and ever more of His tender mercies.

So, I really mean it when I say, "take my life...please."  Serving Him is the greatest joy I have ever known.  It is the most satisfying and fulfilling work I have ever known.  I can't imagine a day when I don't wake up eager to head "into the office" and be the first one to arrive so that I can turn on the lights for the rest of the firm.

I will never forget His generous benefits package...there is no other employer on earth who cares for their colleagues with such tender care. 

"Take my silver and my gold,
not a mite will I withhold.
Take my every thought, to use
in the way that Thou shalt choose. 
Take my love; O Lord, I pour
at Thy feet its treasure store.
I am Thine, and I will be
every, only, all for Thee."
- Francis R. Havergal

Ever, only, all for thee....
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

If you would like to see (and hear) another version of Chris Tomlin performing this song, "Take my Life" live, here is the video.

"All of You is more than enough..."

"All of You is more than enough for all of me... For every thirst and every need You satisfy me with Your love. And all I have in You is more than enough..." - Chris Tomlin & Louis Giglio

I hope you enjoy this video of Chris Tomlin's beautiful song, "Enough."  I think you will see how it relates to this story: It happened just last night.  We were sitting in church.  In preparation for conducting the service, I'd pulled together the readings, straight from questions that were pressing on my heart:  "What do I really need?"  "When will I know that I have enough?"  Using those questions as my starting point, I'd felt divinely led - as if on a journey through the Bible, and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. I was searching for the message God intended for our worship service - and for me.  I'd felt inspired but Scripture and the writings of Mary Baker Eddy, but the questions still loomed large.  Once I'd finished readings the selections, and we'd joined in silent prayer, I led the congregation in praying aloud the Lord's Prayer.  And it was this line, "Give us this day, our daily bread" that I found myself focusing on with genuine hunger.   After singing the second hymn, and reading the announcements, I opened the meeting for the sharing of gratitude, inspiration and testimonies of healing. And that was when my friend, Andrew - sitting on the sofa in the half-light of a late summer evening - shared a stunning idea. It was one that answered my question, so perfectly, that it was as if I'd posed my query directly to him,  he'd taken it to God, and come back with the perfect response. Andrew started his remarks, by sharing gratitude for what he was learning from the inmates he visited during his volunteer work at a local jail.  And then, he referred back to one of the statements that I'd read - twice actually - from Science and Health. He referred to it as the definition to the word, "enough."

"Unfathomable Mind is expressed. The depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite Love fill all space. That is enough!"

It actually took my breath away.  It was as if little prickles of energy - and a million fireflies - were lighting up my insides.  I actually think I may have gasped.  This was the answer - the simple and direct answer - I had been looking for.  As I'd prepared for the service, there were two words that had kept poking at me:  "need" and "enough."  I knew what I most needed. Again from Mary Baker Eddy:

"What we most need is the fervent desire for growth in grace, expressed in patience, meekness, love, and good deeds."

And this had long become my answer. When suggestions came from within, "I need to know what is next." or "I need to feel thus, and so - peace, comfort, love - you name it."   When those false "needs" would project themselves as conditional to my peace, with Eddy's direction, it had become my practice to claim, "No, what I really need is the burning desire for growth in grace - expressed in patience, meekness, love, and good deeds. But the answer to the questions, "What is enough?"  "When will I have enough?"  "What would enough look like?"  For those questions, I didn't seem to have an answer that satisfied my hunger for something simple, clear, comprehensive, practical - and most importantly - spiritual. But Andrew's answer met all of those criteria - perfectly. And I claimed it, immediately, for myself as one of my five smooth stones for taking down the Goliath suggestion of: "never enough."  I have since discovered that it is truly one of the most wonderful spiritual tools to have at the ready.  When the inner critic tries to say I don't have enough, I never will have enough, or that I wouldn't know enough if it bit me on the backside, I can confidently go back to:

"The depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite Love fill all space."

Do I need more money, more information, more praise, more entertainment, more comfort -- more, more, more? No, what I need - what I really, and truly, and practically need more of is growth in grace -- patience, meekness, love and good deeds.  And the depth, breadth, height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite Love filling all space is exactly what will meet that need.  In fact, it is the only thing that can, or will, eversatisfy that which I "most need." That is my "enough."  It will always be enough.  Love filling all space.  Love filling every heart.  Love filling every moment with opportunity for self-realization.  Love satisfying every need to trust more, and worry less.  Love filling every "wrathful and afflictive" experience as the opportunity to entertain angels heretorfore unawares. Love filling the earth with the gladness of growth, the affluence of freshness, the height, might, majesty, and glory of infinite beauty and grace.  Yes, it is enough. It is always enough.    with Love, Kate [photo credit:  Nathaniel Wilder 2010]

"Your grace is enough..."

"Your grace is enough
I'm covered in your love
Your grace is enough for me...."

My friend Mindy asked me to participate in her church's* worship "gathering" last Sunday, by joining her for a discussion on "unconditional love."   Chris Tomlin's praise song, "Your Grace is Enough," led by their fellowship's band, was the prelude to that conversation.  It was perfect.

I am discovering, more and more, that there is, there can be, no separation between grace and unconditional love.  I cannot love unconditionally, or as my friend Susan Dane says, unreasonably, without grace. 

Some of my favorite definitions of grace are:

"the free, unmerited, undeserved, and unearned favor of God"

"the divine influence on the heart and its reflection in the life"

I believe that it is impossible to love unreasonably...beyond reason, and all human reasoning...without this kind of grace that is the very coincidence of the human and the divine within us.  One cannot find the depth of heart to love without the ego's permission...especially when everything in you, and everyone around you, is saying "they don't deserve it,'" without self-dissolving grace  It would be incomprehensible without Love's immanence, without God's unopposed influence on the heart...which overrides self-justification and the desire to "weigh in" on someone else's choices, a favorite activity of the ego...without the power of grace.

And in kind, one cannot accept this kind of unreasonable, unconditional love without grace.  It would be impossible for the human heart to genuinely receive love...when it feels undeserving...without a humble yielding to God's right to show us "unearned favor," and allow it to penetrate remorse, regret, self-doubt, and the ego's inclination to self-justify or hide its failings.  

Once this love-without-reason pierces the false membrane of self-preservation, it permeates every mental molecule of hardness, and begins to dissolve sin in the way Christ models for us in the garden of Gethsemane when he kisses his betrayer, and restores the ear of his captor.   We don't find him weighing the consequences of his favor..."Hmm,  does he deserve to be whole?   Will this healing make him think I don't mind being led away in chains?  What message am I sending by letting him kiss me?"  He knows that it is God's province to correct and govern, and it is his right, by "the grace of God," to love, love, love.   For this cause came he. 

I have made many mistakes in my life.  Sometimes those mistakes have left me feeling undeserving of love or mercy.  But it has only been a radical understanding of grace that has allowed me to rise above (or perhaps more accurately kneel below) the floods of self-hatred, to accept the generous gifts of unconditional love from those who are so deeply devoted to their own "growth in grace," that allow my mistakes to become their opportunities to love more, and more, and more...relentlessly more. 

There are acts of divine reciprocity that are beyond reason.  Mandela's forgiveness of his oppressors after 26 years in captivity - including the brutal treatment of his people - and the reconciliation that this made space for, in a nation poised for justifiable vengeance.  An Amish community's genuine care for the family of a gunman who took the lives of its innocent school children one bright, clear autumn day sweet with promise.  The courage it takes to reach out and be kind on a playground, when it would be just as easy to walk the other way.

As I said on Sunday, I have never learned to make better choices by being rejected, or ignored.  It is love, unreasonable, undeserved, unwarranted love that has taught me most about the kind of woman I want to be.  It is grace that allows for the generosity of the giving, and grace that allows me to receive it into my heart and let it have its way with me...making me want to be worthy of its gift. This grace allows us to not only embrace the sorrowing, the weary, the prodigal child, but to gives her opportunities to serve side-by-side with the giver.

In the Bible John witnesses that:

"And of his fullness have we all received,
and grace for grace.

"For the law was given by Moses,
but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ."

I love Moses for his courage, his commitment to Principle, his devotion to following His Father's voice as he led his people out of bondage, and his dedicated example of obedience to divine law.  But I know, that for me,  it was Jesus who taught us how to live this "grace for grace," how to practice this unconditional love, how to yield to this unwarranted divine care,  in the garden.  Mary Baker Eddy's definition of "Gethsemane" in the Glossary of Science and Heath with Key to the Scriptures says it all for me:

GETHSEMANE: Patient woe;
the human yielding to the divine; 
love meeting no response,
but still remaining love.

It is this unprecedented Gethsemane love that has most changed my life over the years.  It is this unreasonable love that has taught me, transformed me, given me purpose, and shown me who I am, and who I am designed to be.  It is this love without reason, without response, without condition, without deserving, without merit that has truly taught me that "Your grace is enough for me."

gratefully Yours,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

*Next Generation Christian Science Fellowship

"Indescribable, uncontainable..."

"Who has told every lightning bolt
where it should go?
Or seen heavenly storehouses
laden with snow?
Who imagined the sun
and gives source to its light?
Yet conceals it to bring us
the coolness of night.
None can fathom it.

Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky
and You know them by name.
You are amazing God.

All powerful, untameable,
Awestruck we fall to our knees
as we humbly proclaim,
You are amazing God.

Incomparable, unchangeable...
You see the depths of my heart,
and You love me the same.
You are amazing God.
You are amazing God..."

Chris Tomlin's song, "Indescribable," reminds me of Mary Baker Eddy's statement:

"Patience is symbolized by the tireless worm, creeping
       over lofty summits, persevering in its intent."

There is something so extraordinary about seeing the wonder, and purpose, in every blade of grass, each tiny catepillar, every molecule of stardust, every dandelion seed...every one of us.  Each of us.  You, me, us them, that...yes, everything...filled with hope, passion, gratitude, tenderness, tenacity, vigor, beauty...love.  It stuns me, it takes my breath away, leaves me pregnant with joy, on tiptoe with expectation, hovering at the edge of the horizon waiting for the sun to rise and a leaf to turn in response to the sun's shining and awaken to her own shimmering color, movement, form, and grace.  In like manner, we each turn to God, and discover our own unique, divinely appointed purpose and promise.

"Nothing is so common,
as the desire to be remarkable."

This axiom of Shakespeare's rings so true, speaks with such authenticity of voice, that it took me by surprise the first time I heard it.  I believe that we all leap towards this common hope, we lean into our collective desire to make a difference, and we rise on wings of our awakened potential in answer to the compelling call from within, gently whispering, "you might really be remarkable"...worthy of remark...in the eyes of God.

But, the ego...the only real enemy of the spiritual man...doesn't want us to answer that calling. It tries to convince us that what we really want, is to be better than someone else, more intelligent, more inspired, talented, worthy, holy, strong, wanted, deserving. The ego thrives on comparison, competition, and compliments.  But I don't think this is what we want at all.  I think what we are longing for, is to know that we have worth and purpose in God's eyes,  To know that we fit into a divine plan, that we are on the right track, and that we are fulfilling His dreams for us as His beloved children.  We want to please our divine parent.

A friend, who is an elementary school teacher, recently shared this story with me:

"So, I was sitting here today when one of my students brought a book over to me. It was a religious board book called Hermie: A Common Caterpillar by Max Lucado, but it was the story that got me.

It was about two caterpillars who kept running into other insects that, to    them, had something special that they didn't have.

The snail could carry his house on his back, the ant was super strong, and the lady bug had pretty spots.  Each time they met an animal or insect with something special, they would go to God and say, "why I am so common? Why don't I have anything special?"

God kept telling them that He loved them just they way they were, and that He wasn't finished with them yet.  He had a plan for them, and they had a purpose.

At the end of the story one of the caterpillars went to bed and prayed to God, saying, "You love me, and that makes me special."

The next morning the catepillar woke up in a chrysalis, and then he turned into a butterfly.  He and His friend then understood what God had meant.

They also understood that even though each of us is different, we are all special in our own way because God loves us."

I loved this story.  Such a simple example of how each and every instance of creation...molecule, insect, raindrop, leaf, sparrow, idean, man, woman, and child...has a divine purpose, is filled with promise, and has a spiritual identity that is designed, cherished, nurtured, and maintained by God.

There is something so pure about my friend's experience in the classroom that day.  We all find, in our moments of inner struggle for the wit and will to persevere, that the faint light of love we emit, is enough to gather angels…children who teach us, parents who love us, friends who believe in us, books and stories that inspire our hope…unawares.  Eddy, in speaking to each of us, encourages:

"The lives of great men and women are miracles of patience and perseverance.  Every luminary in the constellation of human greatness, like the stars, comes out in the darkness to shine with the reflected light of God."

Each of us is uniquely beautiful, incomparable, remarkable in His divine design.  We created with the inherit desire, a spiritual longing towards this spiritual purpose.  There is an inner compass that draws us towards our own North Star, our spiritual family homestead...the kingdom of heaven within...where we are always welcomed with joy, handed a dishtowel, and  pointed in the direction of the kitchen where we are thrilled to fill our special niche in time and eternity.  

I love the way J.G. Bennett describes this spiritual homing device within our hearts:

"Spiritual homesickness is necessary for us. 

It remains in our heart most of the time.  But sometimes, there are periods we go through when we are constantly aware of being bereft of something.  And when this feeling comes we have to watch over the purity of that desire, and not misuse it.  The feeling is, in itself, authentic. It is an indication of being near enough to something to be aware of its worth.  One doesn't really feel deprived until one is close."

To be close to our Father's house is to recognize a familiar landscape. To hear the sounds of our childhood...the way the wind whistles through the tall grass in the pasture, the call of indigenous songbirds, the whinnying of horses in paddock. We know that our Father, God, is the Patriarch of this homestead. And we know that He is waiting patiently on the porch, searching the horizon for our silouette to appear in the backlight of a risen morn. Our hearts leap, our pace increases, the past falls away behind us in the deepening blue of twilight. 

Our divine Parent is waiting to hand us our assignment and to tell us that He always knew we "had it in us." He knows that we are capable of being indescribably wonderful...of making a difference.  He is waiting to greet us, each and every day, with our unique calling in His heart, our spiritual purpose on His lips, and a fresh new task at hand.  He is waiting for us, for me and for you...to just show up. Joining Him in the harvest we become heirs of all we see. 

It's always time to come home to who we are.  To come home to the lives we have been perfectly designed to live.  In His eyes we are amazing, remarkable, indescribably wonderful, fascinating, worthy, deserving...we are beloved. We are His beloved....always.
Kate


Here is a version of Chris Tomlin's "Indescribable" without the lyrics, but with beautiful imagery.