Awake

Posted on April 15, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

 Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” –-Matthew 28:9

Suddenly you meet us–on our way from the empty tomb, in the garden, on the road to Emmaus, in a locked room, by the sea, and in the dawn of our darkest night. Your gentle voice, your delicate touch tears through the veil of our grief with sweet encounter.

How we hoped beyond reason for your lifeless body to awaken and tell us, you were only sleeping. And now you have awakened and each good and glorious breath swells our hearts with love.

Living Flame of Love

O living flame of love
that tenderly wounds my soul
in its deepest centre! Since
now you are not oppressive,
now consummate! if it be your will:
tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!

O sweet cautery,
O delightful wound!
O gentle hand! O delicate touch
that tastes of eternal life
and pays every debt!
In killing you changed death to life.

O lamps of fire!
in whose splendours
the deep caverns of feeling,
once obscure and blind,
now give forth, so rarely, so exquisitely,
both warmth and light to their Beloved.

How gently and lovingly
you wake in my heart,
where in secret you dwell alone;
and in your sweet breathing,
filled with good and glory,
how tenderly you swell my heart with love.

— St. John of the Cross

 
Credits and references:
“Transcendence” by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
“Living Flame of Love” is in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
Banner “The Glory of Dawn” by Chris Ballard. Used with permission.
Text originally published April 4, 2015
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com
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Good and Glory

Posted on April 14, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

Jesus-down-from-Cross-lowf

It is finished. Jesus has died. His body is lowered down from the cross and taken to the tomb.

On Easter Saturday, we hold vigil with everyone who is grieving the loss of Christ’s presence. Those bright days of miracles and laughter, of full bellies and awakened hearts are gone. Now, there is only darkness.

Into the darkness we must go.
Gone, gone is the light.

We think that if we had just prayed right, lived right, and believed hard enough, we could have raised Jesus from the dead and felt his presence once more. But this dark night dispels that illusion.

Into the darkness we must go.
Gone, gone is the light.

Before he died, Jesus told his friends he would be back. Remember what John said:

The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it.

Remember when Jesus said that if our children asked us for a fish, we wouldn’t give them a snake. Or if they asked for an egg, we wouldn’t give them a scorpion. He knew we would never do that and neither would his Father. God only gives good gifts. So this dark night must be a good gift, a glorious gift.

O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!

On this holy night, let us light a candle in the deep caverns of our feelings and welcome the darkness that is filled with good and glory.

candle shawn carpenter

O guiding night!
O night more lovely than the dawn!
O night that has united the Lover with his beloved,
transforming the beloved in her Lover.
—“Dark Night of the Soul,” St. John of the Cross

Credits and references:
Jesus down from the cross by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
Gone is the Light by Gord Johnson on Steve Bell’s album Devotion.
John 1:5, John 14:28, Luke 11:11-13.
The phrases “deep caverns of feeling” and “filled with good and glory” from “Living Flame of Love,” This poem andDark Night of the Soul  are in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
Candle by Shawn Carpenter. Used with permission.
Originally published April 3, 2015.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com
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O Sacred Friend Now Wounded

Posted on April 13, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

Crucifixion 2 Michael O Brien

Now you are lifted up and alone, O Sacred Friend. You are every person who has ever been condemned, battered, betrayed, or abandoned. You bear all our suffering and every consequence for the suffering we caused.

“Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Forgive us, you say. Me too, you mean. Even now you see the spark of the kingdom in my intentions without justifying the outcome.

You know full well what I have done, yet when I reach my hand across time and space to touch your face, you do not flinch. I caress your hair, your cheek, your beard as you slip into death. I lay my open palm over your heart.

And all that is you flows into me, into us, into every living thing on earth.

Jesus-down-from-Cross cropped-lowf

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
— “O Sacred Head Now Wounded”

Credits and references:
Crucifixion 2 by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
Luke 23:34 (Msg)
Jesus down from Cross (cropped) by Michael D. O’Brien. Used with permission.
“O Sacred Head Now Wounded,” anonymous.
Banner: The Dark Night of the Soul (cropped) by Rene. Used with permission.
Originally published April 2, 2015
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com
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A Smelly, Sweet Encounter

Posted on April 12, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

Perhaps it wasn’t until Jesus and his disciples sat down to eat their evening meal that they noticed the unpleasant aroma of street and feet. I can imagine them all, tired from the day, edgy and irritated with each other, avoiding eye contact with Jesus. Let someone else do it. And someone else did.

Jesus got up, and desiring to show them the depth of his love, took off his outer garment and got a basin of water. I’d always pictured a hush coming over the room at that point and each disciple quietly waiting their turn, but seventeenth century painter Dirck van Baburen didn’t see it that way.

In his scene, a cacophony erupts that sounds worse than their feet smell. An older disciple accuses a younger one of shirking his duty. A couple of the men lament, “How did we let this happen?” Peter argues with Jesus while Andrew interferes; Jesus argues back.

And who was going to wash their master’s feet? They likely debated about that, too.

Finally they settled down and returned to their cold dinner. Then Jesus unsettled them again. “I have set an example for you that you should do as I have done for you,” he told them.

And how did they respond? Canadians know about using their inside voice in situations like this. But not one of the disciples was Canadian.

“I’m not washing John’s feet; he already thinks he’s so special.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Me either.”

“I’ll do it, and then I’ll wash my own.”

“You can’t wash your own, Doofus. Didn’t you hear what Jesus said? We need to take turns. I’ll draw up a roster.”

Maybe it didn’t happen like that. Maybe after they all got their feet washed and experienced Christ’s sacramental display of love, their hearts were humbled and transformed.

Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe not completely.

Jesus, I am just like them. You washed my feet and that very night I argued with my brother, fell asleep when you asked me not to, betrayed and deserted you.

You knew that would happen, yet you washed our feet anyway.

Flames by Tassoman

O living flame of love
that tenderly wounds my soul
in its deepest center! Since
now you are not oppressive,
now consummate! if it be your will:
tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!
— “Living Flame of Love” by St. John of the Cross

 Questions for your journey into Holy Week:

  • How do you feel when you’ve had a sweet encounter with Jesus and then fall back into old patterns of behaviour?
  • What would it be like to believe that love broke through the veil and left a sweetness in your heart?
Credits and references:
“Dirty Feet” by rbairdpccam. Used with permission.
Christ Washing the Apostles’ Feet Dirck van Baburen (circa 1594/1595–1624) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
John 13:1-17
“Flames” by Tassoman. Used with permission.
“Living Flame of Love” is in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
Originally published April 1, 2015
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com
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Hosanna!

Posted on April 8, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

How do we respond to such an exquisite display of love?

Jesus, seated on a donkey, resolutely rides into Jerusalem knowing he will die there. Both he and the saint who is showing him the way are holding a scroll. The word written by the prophet is coming to pass as the Word-Become-Flesh writes history.

Behind Jesus, the disciples follow in a huddle, solemn determination on their faces except for the one in front–John perhaps–whose face is filled with compassion.

The curious religious leaders and people of Jerusalem crowd the gate. One with  a closed fist looks away, another open-handed welcomes, a third protectively clutches her robe. And the ancient looking children in the foreground! Three are spreading their outer garments on the path or waving palms and the fourth pulls his robe over his head. He will lay down the only piece of clothing he has on. His hosanna costs him everything, including his dignity. But no one seems to notice.

The donkey plods on.

Like everyone here, I am convinced, determined, broken-hearted, sceptical, intrigued, guarded, caught up in hope, laid bare in shame, humbly trudging forward and standing in the way.

Jesus, I’m not ready, but you comes into my Jerusalem anyway. There’s not one person in this scene that you love less than another, no one you dismiss. No part of me is too aloof, too embarrassing, too tight-fisted to be loved.

My heart swells. Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!

palm frond by Samuel John

 How gently and lovingly
you wake in my heart. . .
how tenderly you swell my heart with love.
— “Living Flame of Love” by St. John of the Cross

Questions for your journey into Holy Week:

  • How does it feel to know that Jesus understands and welcomes every part of you?
  • How do you respond when you behold such an exquisite display of love for you?
Credits and references:
Mosaic, Einzug Christi in Jerusalem by Meister der Palastkapelle in Palermo, 1150.  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons”Palm Frond” by Samuel John. Used with permission.
“Living Flame of Love” is in The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodgriguez, O.C.D. with introductions by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. (ICS Publications, 1979)
This post was originally published March 28, 2015.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com
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The Cost of Being Known

Posted on April 7, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

“What was the most memorable meal you ever had?” a friend asked everyone at the dinner table.

One by one each person described an experience of eating extravagantly prepared food in an exquisite setting. But it was hard for me to listen. Many spoke of restaurants Fred and I can’t afford–or think we can’t. But it wasn’t just thinking of eating at high-end restaurants that made me anxious. I remembered a few a fancy dinners out, but I couldn’t remember what was on my plate or the pleasure I enjoyed.

I was hoping no one was keeping track of who’d said what, but then I heard, “Esther, what about you?”

I offered a vague, adequate response and the conversation continued. But that feeling of being less than–the only one who didn’t measure up–lingered. I’m not generous enough, playful enough, present enough.

That’s the cost of being with friends: you get an instant report of where you fall short. At least, I do. It made me want to retreat to where being who I am is normal, but this damned report card has followed me home.

It takes me a day or two before I can share my feelings with God. In the presence of love, I know God isn’t confronting me about my inadequacies. Something more is going on here. I sit uncomfortably waiting.

My mind drifts back over the two days I spent with these friends. I remembered the tears each time someone courageously admitted what was hard or painful for them.

A thought emerged. What if I did that? What if instead of giving an answer to fit in, I said what was really going on for me?

I pictured myself at table and this time saying, “I’ve eaten some amazing meals in my life, but I’m embarrassed to say I’ve been so distracted that I can’t clearly remember a single one.”

If I’d said that I know I would have been met with the same compassion and acceptance I felt when I heard their honesty.

The gift of being known and loved, that’s what God’s inviting me to receive.

Jesus looked at him and loved him.–Mark 10:21 (NIV)

Questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • When have you felt led to tell a trusted friend what’s going for you?
  • What was it like to experience compassion and acceptance?
  • How might that open you to experience the same from God?

* * *

Love Mischief for the World

What happens when a city boy, with a pocket full of sermons, lands in a Scottish parish?

“Godspeed tells of the places and people who taught me the pace of being known,” writes Matt Canlis (left). “My desire to modernize the church ground to a halt in a Scottish parish. But the first speed bump occurred in a class with Eugene Peterson, which I expected to be fresh and innovative. Instead our textbooks were dated and the lectures slow. My concern was for the future of the church. We didn’t need to slow down, the church needed to catch up!

“The second speed bump was arriving in Scotland for further education, and putting aside my dreams to plant a church. Instead, I found myself pastoring a small Scottish parish which had been founded 1600 years earlier by St. Ninian. That’s when I discovered I had entered a new seminary–the school of the parish–and my teachers were the parishioners and their ordinary lives. By God’s grace and the patient mentoring of a mature congregation, I began my real formation not just as a pastor, but as a human being.”

What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References
“Fancy Dinner” by Nick. Used with permission.
Who Am I? Multimedia art by Megan Yungwirth. Used with permission.
The photo of Matt Canlis and Alan Torrence and text is from livegodspeed. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in False Self, Lent, Poverty of Spirit, Reflections, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Empty

Posted on March 31, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

Empty

Before you go to bed,
shake the dust off your feet.
Open your front door and
–with a shoe in each hand–
smack those soles together.
Like a TV preacher,
tell those demons: “Be gone!”

Before you go to bed,
empty your pockets.
Pile up your
precious portfolio of plastic,
cell phone, cash, keys,
loose change, receipts, and Kleenex.
Pull your side pockets right out.
Flick those fabric ears clean of identity.

Before you turn back the sheets,
take off those dangly earrings, necklace, bracelet, watch.
Rub your wrist till it forgets what it lugged around all day.

Before you turn out the light,
take a warm, wet cloth,
close your eyes and wash your face.
Wipe away all you heard, all you saw, all you tasted.
Brush off every word you spoke, tooth by tooth.
Gargle, spit, smile.

Before you lay your head on the pillow,
grab your ankles,
flip your body upside down and give it a shake,
hard,
like your mother did when she brought washing in from the line.
Snap out that lingering thought, that clinging regret
till it falls to the floor and rolls under the bed.

When you are
completely
empty,
pull the blankets up to your chin
and say goodnight to your life.

Go to sleep
filled with God.

Like a waterwheel of divine love, the Father empties all of himself into the Son. The Son receives and empties all of himself into the Spirit. The Spirit receives and empties all of himself /herself into the Father. The Father receives and the cycle continues. It’s no good telling people to let go if they can’t be assured they will be refilled, but the Trinity gives us a model for how that can happen. I can let go, because I trust I will always be filled up again.–Richard Rohr

Questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • How might the self-emptying/filling work of God be essential for us to love our neighbours?
  • When you read the poem “Empty,” what images compelled or repelled you?
  • Which letting go would you find most difficult? Which one most satisfying?

* * *

Love Mischief for the World

My St. Stephen’s friends, Colleen Butterley (left) and Roxee Forrest are up to some great love mischief. Once a week they read to children in Kindergarten-Grade 2 at Cameron Elementary school which is in the same neighbourhood as our church. Colleen’s involvement with Cameron began when her children, now grown, attended the school. Roxee is a retired teacher. She said to me, “Teaching was my life; it’s great to be back in the classroom again as a volunteer. I just love it.”

What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References:
Banner: Goodnight Moon written by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd, 1947.
“Bed” by Erika Wittlieb on Pixabay. Used with permission.
A Good Night’s Sleep by Seán Ó Domhnaill. Used with permission.
Richard Rohr quote from Center for Action and Contemplation Meditation “Self-Emptying,” March 5, 2017,  adapted from Richard Rohr with Mike Morrell, The Divine Dance: The Trinity and Your Transformation (Whitaker House: 2016), 90-91.
 
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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I Will Love. End of Story.

Posted on March 24, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

A pharisee once asked Jesus which commandment is the greatest. 

Jesus said, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself'” (Matthew 22:36-39, NASB).

Notice that in this literal translation, Jesus doesn’t say “should,” guilting us into a proper disposition. He isn’t telling us to just do it, which is different than how it reads in the New International Version. There the verb is translated as an imperative or command: Love God; love neighbour.

But Pastor Peter Hiett points out that the actual word Jesus uses is shall.

I was curious, so I looked up the Greek, the language in which the New Testament was originally written. He’s right. Jesus doesn’t use the imperative but the future active indicative form of the verb “to be”–commonly translated “you will.” To be fair to the NIV translators, this form of the verb was sometimes used as an imperative.

But what if loving was never meant to be something we were ordered to do? Perhaps it’s more like God’s command, “Let there be light” and then it happened. Could loving God and loving our neighbour be something God is already doing in us? What if, as Hiett suggests, it’s the unfolding of the story God’s writing in our lives.

Novelist and preacher, Frederick Buechner writes:

The final secret, I think, is this: that the words “You shall love the Lord your God” become in the end less a command than a promise. And the promise is that, yes, on the weary faith and the fragile wings of hope, we will come to love him at last . . . And, loving him, we will come at last to love each other too. . . .

When I read this, I am overwhelmed with relief. Like everything else in the Christian life, what we need is given. God is already on it.

The Author of my life moves the plot along in every chapter. I saw it when our grandson tenderly stroked Fred’s arm after he’d eaten hot wasabi. I felt it when I heard the heartbreak of another being shut down and dismissed. I tasted it in a home-cooked meal.

As I notice God’s loving action in my life, I become more aware of when my actions fall short. I feel like I’m regressing. But once I get over my embarrassment, I can see forward movement. This awareness is a gift: I’m no longer blind to the way my behaviour affects others and can ask for the grace to do things differently next time.

God is writing a beautiful story with our lives.

There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.–Philippians 1:6 (MSG)

Questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • What has your attention lately?
  • How might God be in the middle of it opening you to love?

* * *
Love Mischief for the World

St. Stephen the Martyr Anglican Church in Burnaby is teaming up with Progressive Housing Society to bring the Mobile Outreach Van back to the Lougheed Mall area. The van will be parked at the church parking lot one day a week. Those in the area who are homeless or at risk of homelessness will be able to receive the support needed to get housing or employment as well as food and clothing. I’m so proud of my church. (I’m in the second row, third from the right)

What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References:
“Third date with immortality” by jamelah e. Used with permission
Frederick Buechner in Secrets in the Dark, “Love”pg.103-104.
Photo of Fred and me climbing Cirque Peak, near Banff, Alberta by Fred. Used with permission.
Photo of St.Stephen’s by Audrey Watson. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Guides from Beyond

Posted on March 17, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

“What are you feeling?” I ask people when they come for spiritual direction.

If they’re experiencing a “negative” emotion, like anger, sadness or disgust, they often want to manage or get rid of it. They don’t like feeling that way. But the wise poet Rumi wants us to welcome these unexpected visitors as guides sent from beyond.

Together with God, I help the directee name and welcome an uncomfortable emotion. I encourage them to give it space, without judging, analyzing or fixing it. “Notice how it feels in your body.”

Staying attentive to a particular emotion allows the directee to encounter the reality of God’s love and presence. I never know what that’s going to look like.

One directee felt as if she’d been thrown into a pit. Suddenly Jesus tipped it on its side, and they were in a safe catacomb together. Another was transported from screaming, unheard behind thick glass to tending a bountiful garden. One minute a directee felt storm-tossed in a sea, grasping for the railing of a boat that was always out of reach. The next minute Jesus was with her like a lifeguard, keeping her head above water. She was enveloped in peace as she pictured her body relaxing against his.

These encounters enabled my directees* to see their situation and themselves in a new light.

The experience I described in last week’s post is another example of what can happen when we welcome our feelings with God.

I told my spiritual director that I felt angry about the way I was being treated by someone and frustrated with myself that I couldn’t get past my anger and be more compassionate. I talked more about it and noticed I was afraid of what this person might do to me if I spoke up. I felt powerless.

I named my fear and powerlessness and something else emerged: I felt trapped. Every layer I allowed myself to feel was more distressing.

But my director and I continued to entertain my guests and invited Jesus to listen to them too. I noticed that he was not distressed. He was full of compassion.

“What’s the focus of Jesus’ compassion?” my director asked.

I held her question, convinced of what the answer would be. But I was surprised.

“Me,” I said.

When I received Jesus’ tender empathy for me, something shifted. I felt compassion for this person. Jesus didn’t blame them for their faults; he didn’t blame me for mine. He just loved and accepted us as we were. I’d felt trapped because I couldn’t change them or myself. Now I knew I didn’t need to do either.

My feelings guided me through what I feared was true into the reality that Jesus held.

Now that their work was done, they departed. I felt calm, hopeful and empowered.

Whether we welcome difficult emotions or not, these rude guests arrive on our doorstep and barge into our lives. Our first instinct is to get them out, and we use whatever means necessary to do it. But when we invite God to help us entertain these unwanted emotions, they generously repay us for our hospitality.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
 – Jelaluddin Rumi, “The Guest House”

*Special thanks to my directees for giving me permission to share their stories.
Such a gift to us!

Questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • What feelings emerged in you as you read today’s post?
  • Can you welcome them and give them space, without judging, analyzing or fixing the uncomfortable ones?
  • Imagine Jesus welcoming these guests, welcoming you. What happens next?

* * *

Love Mischief for the World

Today is my husband, Fred’s birthday. This behind-the-scenes guy goes out of his way to make life easier or more fun for others. Fred does Costco runs and picks up Cobs Bread donations to be distributed to those in need. He plays Hide-and-Seek in the dark with our grandkids and me and knows how to die very ungracefully when he loses at Exploding Kittens (to the great delight of our grandchildren). This man’s love mischief knows no bounds. My Handsome Fellow makes great curry, fixes the car, maintains my bike and reads every post I write before it’s published. He also gives sweet kisses.

What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References
On the banner, “Welcome” by Richard Matthews. Used with permission.
“big six” by B. Used with permission.
“Welcome Home” by Stefani Woods. Used with permission.
Photo of Fred by Heidi Braacx. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Lent, Spiritual Direction, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Loving Certain People: Part 2

Posted on March 10, 2017 by Esther Hizsa

This Lent I am taking you with me on my journey to love people who annoy or anger me. In last week’s post, Rowan Williams, Abba Moses, Hafiz and Jesus invited me to move from judgment to humility and compassion.

I prayed, “Jesus show me how you see the people in my life I can’t stand. How do you want me to love them?”

But when I opened myself to God and thought about a certain person, my anger returned. I wished they were more aware of how their behaviour impacts others. I wondered what I might say to them that they’d be able to hear. They’ve been judged and rejected before and fiercely protect themselves from it happening again. Pointing out how their behaviour affects me would not go well, and I feared what they would do to me if I did.

I hoped that prayer would soften my heart, but instead it underlined my powerlessness and lack of compassion. I couldn’t stop focusing on this person’s brokenness and the damage they were causing. How could I “cover their sin” without being complicit in its outcome?

As I continued to pray, Christ’s compassion did come. It came to me. He knows what it’s like to bear the bruises inflicted by others. I lingered beside him, soaking up his solidarity. Eventually, I recalled him saying, “Father, forgive them, they do not know what they are doing.”

With Jesus’ hand resting on my shoulder, this enemy was not so big and frightening anymore. Tenderness stirred, and I found myself letting go of my disappointment that they were not what I’d like them to be. I could also let go of my fear of retaliation.

I felt empowered, freed to live and speak from a place of love.

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You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. –-Matthew 5:43-44 (The Message)

Questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • What feelings emerge as you ask God to help you love your enemies?
  • What have you noticed going on in your life lately that is speaking into that?

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Love Mischief for the World

Dr. James Finley is a renowned retreat leader, Merton scholar, therapist and author of Merton’s Palace of Nowhere, Christian Meditation: Experiencing the Presence of God, and The Contemplative Heart. In this video, Finley is speaking about “The Peace that Surpasses Understanding.” Following his talk (42:00), a woman in the audience asks a question about dealing with a difficult person. His response has some healthy love mischief in it. 

What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

 Credits and Resources:
“Smile for the camera” by Helen Haden. Used with permission.
Luke 23:34
“Dog & Cat” by紫流. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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