Freedom

"To live will be a great adventure..." Peter Banning in Hook.

The greatest life of all is the life God offers through Jesus Christ. So it's no surprise to understand that this life is the greatest adventure.

He has given me the means to go, and the will to do it--that is, a truly free will. Often, either from passion or from desire, we wish to fling this one gift away--what good is a will when it so often betrays us? But there is no other way across the sea that separates man from God. I am told, quite rightly, that no effort can apprehend God. There is only his will, which is to give us grace freely, and our will, which he has commanded shall be free. The trial of the waters is nothing to fear nomatter how they rage. Free will is seaworthy, it can take us home.

We go, then, by raising sail into the wind of the Spirit, not by lowering. We go by taking the helm in hand--this, which he has called "the Bread that comes down from heaven" is given to us to be taken hold of, that we might live. Acts of free will can be good, worthy and liberating, as well as false. We learn by doing.

We are meant to captain our own ships. It is God's will that we have free wills, and Jesus, our Teacher, has given us example. As he has lived, so we can live.

Someone once said, "It seems we just been dropped down in this world between good and evil, and don't none of us know why." But I know why. We are here to be truly free. We have often been, and often called ourselves, slaves to sin. But this isn't the case. Our Liberation came, and he is here now, with us. And he will be with us forever. No longer slaves, we are made free, and it is this freedom that tells us who we are, and where we belong. None of the evil matters to those who are free. To use our will--to choose life--is the greatest honor we can offer. He has given us grace to be our guarantee, and his Spirit to companion us. We accept our freedom, and we are given everything...

Stats

I just noticed. Looking over last year I averaged just a little more than one post a week. I need to do better than that. It's a far cry from one post each day. So, to make it up to you, I'll tell you about my favorite prayer place.

We have a statue of Mary on top of the television cabinet in our Family Room. It's just tall enough for me to stand with my elbows on the shelf and my face in my hands. Mary stands over me and listens. If I stand there long enough, something happens in my heart. It isn't words, only longing. And the longing grows and grows until it's almost more than I can bear. But when it comes my prayer is both simple and sincere. "I want you, God. Only you."

That's about it. But there's so much inside of such a prayer. All the possibilities of God. And though I feel too small to open up and receive almost any of it, grace is real and will get the job done. The feeling slowly ebbs--not without tears--and it's handy to have a box of tissues. I don't know what this kind of praying is called, but I think it's familiar to those who sail the sea of the Spirit. They will know, and someday one of them will tell me about it.

But for today, I will remember that I can pray there whenever the house is quiet. And I can write here, whenever the house is quiet. For these are my most quiet thoughts and they shun the ordinary noise that I surround myself with. Building time and space for being quiet into my day will be a good resolution. Hopefully, if it's built inside my heart, I can carry it with me wherever I go. That would be something.

January

It's been very busy, not all of it productive. The thing about blogging is that it's not as romantic as the movies. There aren't people "out there" holding their breaths waiting to hear the next wonderful thing you have to say.
It's more like life. You have to get people's attention, but you need a good reason because there's so much competition. And if you're a person who doesn't really know why, then what you say doesn't have much presence.

I sort of hoped there would be something in the words that meant something to somebody, but then I've always hoped that about my writing. I've hoped that all my life and I hope I'll go on hoping it. But really, when all you have to talk about is the struggles at work, the struggles at church, or the struggles at home... where's the story? Where's Jesus in all of it?

Well, I promised myself I would blog the journey at least until I get professed. That way there will be a record. But I sort of feel like the old sailor who was asked to make a map of his journies, and found out there was a lot of blank space on the paper even after he'd done his best, wrote down all he could remember. What does one do with the blank spaces? What do you say to people who might try to follow? Beyond this point, will there be monsters...?

I think the blank spaces are where you will write your stories...