Welcome to The Wildroot Parables weekly discussions! This is where we can come together as a community and have real talk with one another: open, honest, gracious, and curious.
This is YOUR space to discuss with each other, not just engage with me! Because of this, SAFE SHARING is my highest priority. If you are not engaging safely and with grace with others, you will have to leave. Period.
Today is the winter solstice for the northern hemisphere; the longest night of our year. It is a day when many choose to contemplate grief, longing, and loneliness, and God’s presence in each of these. They are normal aspects of the human experience, and deserve their due.
Today, let’s discuss expectation and longing. What do you hope for, this holiday season? What miracles do you long for that you barely dare to utter aloud?What darker aspects of the human experience are you contemplating on this winter solstice, and how can you find hope in them?
I'm not sure that age brings wisdom, but it does bring perspective. As an annoyingly optimistic person by nature, I've had to come to grips this Christmas season with the reality that a surprising number of our friends (us included) are facing a season of persistent emotional challenges. This has indeed brought to the fore what you called "darker aspects of human experience." Our faith never drives us to despair, but hopefully makes us more prayerful as we put trust to the test. Faith also gives us the maturity to think through the cognitive dissonance of Christian living and embrace the irreducible tension between God's promise and our earthly experience. As a result I'm toying around with a notion that's new for me, even though it's probably old hat for many: "Life is sad, and that's okay." Still working through the implications.
Bishop Fulton Sheen once said that God whispers in our triumphs but He shouts in our suffering. We can hear him, often, quite loudly when we are at our worst. I am struggling right now in a certain way, and it always takes me a while to realize that I need to pray about it. When I am struggling I feel spiritually alone--God feels farthest away. I forget the parable of the friend at midnight--that if we would only bother God with our needs he will (not even begrudgingly!) lead us to satisfaction of those needs--sometimes in the ways we want, sometimes in other ways. It was in a moment of despair that I heard God's calling to become Catholic; it was in a dark time that I remembered how to pray with sincerity. Now it seems my long-awaited miracle is in progress, by the grace of God. It takes the suffering times to remember how much we depend on God for *everything*.
This reminds me of a thought I had some time ago about the word "convert". To convert has it's roots in the latin which means "to turn around". People who are suffering feel like they are in the dark, but God is bright and emanating love and warmth in all directions, at all frequencies. The problem is not that God has abandoned us, but that we are looking away from Him and wondering where the light has gone. Something people like to say, too, is that God meets people where they are at--but if we are turned away from Him, that means Christ is standing *right behind us* waiting for us to notice.
Thank you for these reflections this Advent season. I hope you and yours have a blessed conclusion to this time of preparation and a joyous Christmas and beyond! God bless you!
I'm not sure that age brings wisdom, but it does bring perspective. As an annoyingly optimistic person by nature, I've had to come to grips this Christmas season with the reality that a surprising number of our friends (us included) are facing a season of persistent emotional challenges. This has indeed brought to the fore what you called "darker aspects of human experience." Our faith never drives us to despair, but hopefully makes us more prayerful as we put trust to the test. Faith also gives us the maturity to think through the cognitive dissonance of Christian living and embrace the irreducible tension between God's promise and our earthly experience. As a result I'm toying around with a notion that's new for me, even though it's probably old hat for many: "Life is sad, and that's okay." Still working through the implications.
Bishop Fulton Sheen once said that God whispers in our triumphs but He shouts in our suffering. We can hear him, often, quite loudly when we are at our worst. I am struggling right now in a certain way, and it always takes me a while to realize that I need to pray about it. When I am struggling I feel spiritually alone--God feels farthest away. I forget the parable of the friend at midnight--that if we would only bother God with our needs he will (not even begrudgingly!) lead us to satisfaction of those needs--sometimes in the ways we want, sometimes in other ways. It was in a moment of despair that I heard God's calling to become Catholic; it was in a dark time that I remembered how to pray with sincerity. Now it seems my long-awaited miracle is in progress, by the grace of God. It takes the suffering times to remember how much we depend on God for *everything*.
This reminds me of a thought I had some time ago about the word "convert". To convert has it's roots in the latin which means "to turn around". People who are suffering feel like they are in the dark, but God is bright and emanating love and warmth in all directions, at all frequencies. The problem is not that God has abandoned us, but that we are looking away from Him and wondering where the light has gone. Something people like to say, too, is that God meets people where they are at--but if we are turned away from Him, that means Christ is standing *right behind us* waiting for us to notice.
Thank you for these reflections this Advent season. I hope you and yours have a blessed conclusion to this time of preparation and a joyous Christmas and beyond! God bless you!