Thursday, October 06, 2005

My dad emailed me today, asking me to find a particular poem for him, which he had once used in a talk he gave. I used the key words that he had given me:
Jesus, Carpenter, 200 miles, poem
Google gave me 91,700 hits.
As I continued my search, the whole place around me seemed to shift at the impact of a life lived almost 2000 years ago, according to historians; a life I still believe continues, in every sense of the word.
In most of the world, each day's date refers to that time. Millions of lives are changed because of what happened. People die because of it, people go on living because of it, I believe miracles happen in his name, books are written, songs are sung, debates are held, hope is given; in this very room where I sit, the foundations of this building were set, the mortar and plaster and airconditioning ducts were installed, the carpet was laid, my desk and computer were put in place for me to do what I do, all because someone was inspired by a man who, almost 2000 years ago, in a region halfway around the world, took three years of his earthly life to embrace and magnify the mystery of God's person. Oh, I have my beliefs about who he was, whether you may agree with them or not, and why he did what he did. But the place where I find myself today is one of reflection on his impact.
Simply staggering.
That's not just human. It can't be.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

"A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is
constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret..." -Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

I got an email from an old friend today; something I had done right in the past had been brought to memory, bringing a smile, as the email brought to my face when I read it. As I read the message, I felt those wings we all strive so hard to maintain, but which we can only feel in our best moments, the moments we make someone smile, or feed the needs of another person. At those points I feel most alive, most real. And sometimes, these things, which we seek to preserve, become the profound secrets that make us us; along with the darkness that often does show up, we carry as part of ourselves the good we possess in our clay-jar beings.
I say this here and now so that no matter how your day was, you can look into your own treasure store of such secrets, received or given, and remind yourself of the goodness in the world.
Blessings, friend.