I once (so long ago it seems like now)
poised my sealed, stone-filled heart on the
inky brink of hopelessness (no one put it there but I)
and still a gray midmorning brings back the
small precipice to stab at my eyes -
the damp of a slogging, sullen autumn stinging every sense
and deepening the reach of its unyielding decay,
every fetid mass of summer past filling my
constricted heart with
droning pity for my soul
and every fuscous plot of soggy earth
seemed fit to swallow me in
neverending death.

Miserere mei Deus -
all I see is stone and lowering cloud.
I did not yet learn that it is only in the deepest night
that we see the farthest things
or that it is only when winter fully comes
that we know what is evergreen.

What opened my eyes, lifted my head,
I cannot yet say -
gradually there seeped in (as grace always does,
creeping in gently from the bottom, rising light)
a possibility of more
the possibility of something possible
and opportunity to act.

There is a goodness in the world
(and still I weep when my own attempts at goodness
are acknowledged with even a nod);
there is a Truth so much larger than we are,
and which yet fits
precisely within us, as we fit into it.

Gradually, I opened my fists,
lifted my hands to receive,
and then, recognizing that
all is grace,
all is the gift of love,
I began to rise up.

Rise up, and give it all away.

In conversation with someone recently, it hit me with more clarity than ever before that we cannot be assured of our grasp of the truth by grasping harder to what we think is true - this only makes us stubborn and narrow. Our certainty comes from letting go entirely of everything but Christ. Our grasp is never strong enough or pure enough to keep us from error unless we are holding on to NOTHING but Him.

We must freely choose to let go of the ideas and understandings to which we cling for security and become like little children - not in the sense of becoming childish and oblivious, but rather childlike and trusting in the face of our realities because we know we are loved. Perfect love casts out fear; perfect love implies perfect trust. But God will not demand our trust or force us to let go. And if we will not let go, we continue to be weighed down and enslaved by all to which we cling.
It is a false security, because our real security is Him. It is trust in His promise of salvation, relying on grace, not on the things we have learned, the consolations we have received, the feats we have accomplished (even if these are of the supernatural variety).

"My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."
2 Cor: 12
"For we also are weak in him: but we shall live with him by the power of God towards you. "
2 Cor:13

Good News is always good.

The Way of the Cross for Children seems to be selling well. Lulu just informed me that it ranked in the Top 100 in sales for the past 30 days. I think we are always looking for something new (and trustworthy) for our children.

A lot of people are choosing the download version, which is less than $2.00 and is a fine option for those who don't mind it being unbound. Thanks to all your positive feedback. And yes, I am working on a similar book for teens, which I plan to have available for the John Bosco Youth Day at Holy Hill in Wisconsin, which is in September. Prayers appreciated.

As for the current book, we are at number 37 as of this evening:
http://www.lulu.com/browse/top100.php?fResolution=month

A new podcast is available, for those who are into such stuff (as I am) - it is the audio from a local cable television show called "The Catholic Forum." I was recently interviewed for the show in reference to my book, "His Suffering and Ours," although we didn't talk much about the book itself; the discussion revolved around our understanding of redemptive suffering.

For the eager or the curious, you can find it here: http://www.catholicforum.libsyn.com/

I have been overwhelmed by an utterly stupefying truth - that we poor, weak, sin-darkened creatures can bring God JOY. We ARE His joy.

God, who created all things by His Word, whose eternal thought included this vast magnificence of space and time, who lived a glorious life of perfect love and communion in which nothing was lacking and in which all was always present to Him and all things possible, this God (uncreated, without beginning or end, independent of any cause or power, absolutely free, absolutely perfect, absolutely complete, and absolutely content within Himself) willed creation into existence, saw that it was good (and innocent and beautiful), and He was pleased.

Then He created man in His own image and likeness, formed him "from the earth," not by a word but by His own handiwork (not "let man be," but "let us make man"), and breathed into him "the breath of life." And He walked with man.

And then man turned from God; sin came and would have ruined everything, had it not been for the fact that God had already intended that the Creator should become part of creation, that the Son would assume a created nature (the Incarnation being one of His eternal ideas, so that He never existed without this idea of creating and being a part of His own creation, nor without the idea of each one of us!) - only now the Son would also be Savior (but God always knew that by making us free, sin would come; and yet it was somehow more glorious for Him that sin would come and mercy would be given). Knowing all this, God still created us, still fell in love with the idea of each one of us.

And still, He gives us life, allows us to offend Him and to fail, and still He continues to love us - His mercy is infinite and His love is unwearied. This is stupefying - that EVEN THOUGH we are selfish and sinful and stubborn, He loves us.

But after all, love is like that - love is patient and understanding and forgiving. Even a deep human love (which is only a reflection of Divine Love) can overlook a great deal, and forgive 70 x 7 times, so we can almost comprehend how God can love us in spite of us. At least, we can accept this probability by extrapolating from the little we know of love.

But we often fail to see beyond our pathetic capacity to love; we often think that God's love is little better than ours. But of course, it is INFINITELY better.

Yes, God's mercy allows for our weakness (though I confess that at times I mistake this for a kind of grudging tolerance) and He constantly forgives us. He never rejects us, He guards our every step, He continuously sheds His light for us and invites us to something better. Yes, He even desires to BE WITH US, to DWELL WITHIN US, to give us every good thing and make us happy.

But this is still too restricted.

God's love for us is so great that WE can really bring Him JOY. Of course. He loves us and love finds joy in its beloved. But this did not really penetrate, or I did not penetrate those words until now. We can bring God joy - His delight is to be with us. We try to be "pleasing in His sight," but do we realize that we can really bring God JOY?!

I have said many times that an amazing threshold is crossed when we see at last and acknowledge with some humility the utterly stupefying fact that we are loved by Absolute Meaning. When we apprehend that GOD LOVES US, we are changed.

But I have found an even more utterly stupefying fact, and another threshold has been crossed: I can bring God JOY. God allows us to be His JOY.

I have perhaps lost you during this rambling post, and I am finding it difficult to find words to express this thought well. But it seemed rich enough to share nonetheless. I leave it to grace to persuade you (in a far more eloquent way than here) that God's love is utterly stupefying, no matter what facet of it we are blessed to see....