Faith practice journal

For my ‘A’ contract I need to turn in my faith practice journal.

The syllabus said to do so via the blog. Since I did my journaling in a notebook (a particular notebook that helps me find release), I will work over the next few days to turn those notes into a presentation on my blog. Below is an idea of the bizarre methods (blurred at the moment) of journaling I have done while practicing the Thomas Merton Book of Hours, as well as the journal I use.

journalblureditjournal 2

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I can’t intellectually defeat the existence of God. It is impossible for me.
Sometimes when life gets hard and dark, we become worried faith will be lost, God will be doubted or worse, blamed.

I am totally and utterly incapable of doing that.

I can blame myself, I can find fault in the cosmos or the natural tendencies of society and creation, but I cannot find any reason in my mind, any tragic situation, that God could not explain away through his eloquent, poetic incarnation.

Sometimes it’s a curse. Sometimes it’s not.

Like most things.

I’m not allowed to be lonely; I’m surrounded

I’m not allowed to feel need; my stomach is full

I have too much, to want so little

I am not able to ask for specific love; heart and blessing abound

I am not able to yearn for the touch of a woman; I’m Christian

I have too much, to want so little

How could I feel loss; the grass withers and the flowers fade

How could I feel a gaping hole; real faith is divine presence

I have too much, to want so little

It’s wrong but I want love; physically, emotionally, communicatively

It’s wrong but I want God to meet my needs; Especially when I’m lonely

It’s wrong but I cannot feel God fully without the resources, people, hearts, minds, poetry, and desire God has placed

I have too much, to want so little.

Creation. It’s bigger than I.
Miles above, clouds below, shaken by wind with no other purpose but discomfort… or so it seems.
Selfish turbulence.
Does that wind matter? Who does it matter to?
We seek sand, the tides, tropics.
We seek a mountain like Nebo, the view of Cannan.
Value. Promised and Exposed.
But what about the wind we can’t see?
That selfish and turbulent wind?
Do we see Glory in that?
A man is not a mountain he is a spec.
A man is not a force of influence, he is easily swayed.
A man does not hold beauty in his eyes, he sits… with no leg room, a cocktail and some fear- at the mercy of the wind that no one sees.
That selfish and turbulent wind.

In a time of independence, self-reliance and perfection, I reached out for God high above me, His character radiating, dousing any pride I had in my own light

The righteous rejoiced and were obedient to Him as I witnessed through service, bible studies, books and podcasts
I join the crowds in shouting, thanking God even though I couldn’t sense our heart in the pleas.
The words changed nothing around us, just our motives. Shaken, stirring.
My brokenness is noticed from nothing more than what I take for granted and though it is veiled and calloused it seems the most dark.
Affirmation by people, the affirmation of opportunity in my path is my realization of cleanliness. A pure heart seems possible though it is not attained.
Moment to moment, God’s voice is louder… saying “Will you go? I know you can but will you?”
“Tell them that my presence changes thinking, My presence changes structure. Let them see the essence of change in my relationship with you.”