Blessed are the troubled ones.
They have seized
hold of life.
Translation: Lynn Bauman in
The Gospel of Thomas: Wisdom of the Twin
The First Response:
Our insulation plugs in now,
our faces bathed in harsh light
as the evening falls spring-soft,
white petals drifting by,
like static on an old black and white TV.
We do not see it.
Yet, there are still times when
the winds run high,
and the fir trees nod to one another in agreement,
arms spread out wide,
one chooses to fall
across the black lines,
sparks flying like the memory
of an ancient storyteller’s fire
but blue and silver now,
snapping into the night.
Troubled, our lines of connection
we turn at last to the window
beholding more than a hundred feet of woody mortality,
belly laughing in the new grass.
Journey through Logos:
We can only be troubled if we unplug enough to pay attention. And yet, here again holy paradox step in, because in that moment of turning, of coming into awareness, we also blunder full into wonder and life. As I write this, it is the season of Easter, and that sort of holding life and death, feeling the reality of both deeply, is the very work of this part of the liturgical year.
I am watching wild flowers take over my old manure pile, crows flying haphazardly by with brown bits of grass for their nests, sheep freshly shorn in the field, the soft rain of brown dog hair as my lab frisks by. The Easter story is all around me right now, if I choose to see it. There is nothing particular heroic in it, but the deeper rhythms of life can and do bring tears to my eyes—not out of sorrow, but out of the incredible wonder of our lives and all live.
In holding the paradox of death and trouble alongside the riotous joy of living, we come into wholeness as Yeshua wished—each illuminates the other in a kind of brilliance that, once seen, is never, ever forgotten.
Hokmah’s Symphonic Note:
My God is love and sweetly suffers all.”
“I swore that I would not suffer from the world's grief and the world's stupidity and cruelty and injustice and I made my heart as hard in endurance as the nether millstone and my mind as a polished surface of steel. I no longer suffered, but enjoyment had passed away from me.”
Where in life have you experienced this paradox? Recount the story in your journal, both the trouble and blessing held equally.
We are filled with Wonder when trouble awakens us into a sense of our wholeness.
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