Small begets big.

Love this:

“We’ve fallen into the conventional thinking that a big mission demands big tactics, but we forget that in the economy of God’s kingdom, big does not beget big.  It’s precisely the opposite.  The overwhelming message of Jesus’ life and teaching is that small begets big.  Consider, God’s plan to redeem creation (big) is achieved through his incarnation as an impoverished baby (small).  Jesus feeds thousands on a hillside (big) with just a few fish and loaves (small).  Christ seeks to make disciples of all nations (big) and he starts with a handful of fishermen (small).  Even Goliath (big) is defeated by David with a few stones (small).

“This pattern is also repeated in Jesus’ parables about the nature of his kingdom.  He said, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like  grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field.  It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown, it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.

“All of this confirms the counter-intuitive nature of God’s kingdom.”  (Skye Jethani)

Lead, kindly light

A Sunday poem worth repeating.

Sr. Dorcee, beloved's avatarWitnesses to Hope

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,–
Lead thou me on!
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene,–one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
Shouldst lead me on:
I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead thou me on!
I loved the garish days, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still
Will lead me on;
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

John Henry Newman
Here is a lovely adaptation by Audrey Assad:

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Beauty and hope

Sr. Dorcee, beloved's avatarWonder and Beauty

How Beauty instills the virtue of Hope

This is a guest post by Timothy Chapman. Timothy grew up in southern Illinois. He has degrees in English, history, and divinity and is currently a youth minister in St. Louis, MO. A version of this essay was first published at the website Here Is a Place.

My days, like many of yours, I bet, are usually spent in the busyness at hand, of to-do lists and iCal checks, of tickets to pay and shirts to drop off at the cleaners, of downloading apps to help with efficiency and drowning out spare silences by checking emails and playing three minutes and twenty-seven seconds of a podcast. Stoplights are often the biggest pause in the oppressive constancy of hours packed to the brim.

But I am a napper. I would take a 22 minute nap everyday if I could–and I…

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A grant of grace

Sr. Dorcee, beloved's avatarWitnesses to Hope

A Sunday-poem by Jessica Powers:

Suffering

All the day long I spent the hours with suffering.
I woke to find her sitting by my bed.
She stalked my footsteps while time slowed to timeless,
tortured my sight, came close in what was said.

She asked no more than that, beneath unwelcome,
I might be mindful of her grant of grace.
I still can smile, amused, when I remember
how I surprised her when I kissed her face.

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