A letter from God to her daughters who resist joy

Smell a rose for me. This is the only worship I require. All my love, God. (Photo of paint-covered smiling girl.)

Dear Daughters,

This letter is for you who resist your joy.

You have your reasons. I get that. I really do.

Joy feels dangerous. Joy feels vulnerable. Joy feels disloyal to those who are suffering. And there’s so much suffering, isn’t there?

You must comprehend this truth. I can only heal you, and others through you, when you’re willing to inhabit joy and allow sorrow.

When you resist sorrow, you resist joy. When you resist joy, you flee your body. When you flee your body, you cut off healing.

I heal you and your world through your body. We connect, you and I, through your flesh. This is what Emmanuel – God with us – means. Me being with you is not abstract. It’s the most concrete thing of all. Every one of your cells is holy. Every single one.

Take a deep breath. That’s me.

Feel your heart beating and your blood moving. That’s me.

Wiggle your fingers and your toes. That’s me, too.

I am always here.

You are sacred. You are holy. You are indescribably dear to me.

Let sorrow flow through you like water. Sorrow  will furrow and deepen and make of you a fresh channel.

Then, let joy flow through you like a river. I promise there will be more than enough. My rivers are full of water.

Let me feed you with my world – bread and wine, sun and rain, sky and dirt, lover, sister, friend. Your delight is my delight.

Let me make you wholehearted.

Let me make you healing and healed.

Let me live in you.

Live your holy life.

My darlings, feel it all.

Smell a rose for me.

This is the only worship I require.

All my love,

God

Photo by Senjuti Kundu on Unsplash

©barbmorris.com

The Cathedral and the Well

(Act One)  The setting is a desert which, like all deserts, has to be crossed. In the middle of this desert is a well, fed by an underground spring of fresh, loud, rushing water. This particular well is fortunately located just at the point where thirsty pilgrims need refreshment if they are to survive and continue on their way. So in those days news got about that it was relatively safe to cross the desert as long as you listened for the sound of the spring and stopped to drink from the well. Generations of pilgrims were able to cross the desert and head into the wilderness — which is where God’s people were usually traveling.

(Act Two)  Many years later news spread of a building in the middle of the desert, a cathedral of great beauty. Throughout the years pilgrims, when they passed, had dropped stones (some fancier than others) to mark the location of the wellspring, an improvement which they hoped would show their respect for the well. Soon a cathedral stands in the middle of this desert, one stone buttressing another. Pilgrims stop, look up, and admire the cathedral from a distance. Yet most of them are close to death from thirst when they approach. They can neither hear the sounds of rushing water nor see the well, now covered by stones.

(Act Three)  Centuries later, in the same desert, one very thirsty pilgrim dares to approach the cathedral, now overgrown by weeds after years of neglect. She (most late medieval pilgrims were women) notices that a stone is loose. Pulling it out, so that she might replace it correctly, she hears the sound of rushing waters! She rediscovers the well and invites her companions to drink of its life-giving waters. Soon news spreads of the cathedral and of the well. The cathedral was imperfectly built, always standing in need of repair; the well, which stood in its midst, is free-flowing. Future generations of pilgrims, sighting the familiar landmark of the cathedral, draw close to the well, drink of its springs, and live to cross the desert.

If this parable of thirst, courage, and spiritual renewal speaks to you, here are some possible ways to interact with it.

1. Ponder where in your life the living water flowing from your Source into your soul has perhaps become blocked. Are you requiring certainty before you move? Are you taking literally what was meant metaphorically? Are you resisting the next step on your journey because you feel afraid? Are you trusting external authority at the expense of your own experience?

2. Use the story as your text for Lectio Divina.

3. Put yourself in the story. Be the thirsty pilgrim crossing the arid desert and approaching the cathedral. Be the thirsty pilgrim pulling aside the loose stone and hearing the sound of water. Hold the stone in your hands. Drink deeply of the cool, living water. What do you hear and feel?

4. If you’d like to chat about what this story may be saying to you, contact me for a free no-obligation consultation call.

Friends, may we drink deeply of the free-flowing, life-giving water of Love.

~Barb

Photo by Rubén Bagüés on Unsplash

*Parable source: Fredrica Harris Thompsett in We Are Theologians