Questions & Answers
No roads I travel lead to Jericho, But anywhere along the way I tread There may be one whose suffering, I know, Can best be satisfied with living bread. The wounds that only Love can ever heal May I assuage—the precious ointment break, And to this lonely, suffering one reveal The living bread of which he may partake.
I seek with new direction and desire to unfurl my billowy sails to the keen wind, and take my dangerous course between the Scylla and Charybdis of sweet lies and steer me over rocks of apathy. I seek with new direction and desire to rid my galleon's hulk of willful barnacles, renew the rigging, let fly the bravest flags of moral courage cracking in the wind.
Once I saw myself in can-of-worms relationship with error. How difficult it was to sort out which was it, and which was me— tangled inextricably spiritual selfhood/mortal susceptibility.
In the silence of humility Repentance grows Like the sky Behind falling leaves I reach for God's love And marvel That He reaches too Still so near After so long We touch Like two trees After winter And a certain wind Suddenly close INGRID MEYER.
Humility — that sacred word embraces all I'm not when striving willfully to do my part. Such stress can reap a trite and hapless gain— the tricks of subtle sense play on, demanding center-stage— until I bow a humble head and turn to God instead.
Self-condemnation (self-love inside out) is self-centered thinking cocooned in mortal selfhood— unable to see. Love for God's idea (self-love removed) is God-centered thinking— reveals His very likeness, uncondemned and free! CHRISTINE A.
To live so as to pray each moment of every day the prayer of doing good the prayer of Christian living the prayer of Christianly scientific knowing the prayer of selfless giving— to live in ceaseless prayer is truly ceaseless living! ELLEN MOORE THOMPSON.
The never-taken-thought-for climate outside, nice, unopposed, convenient mortal life, nice. How long can this go on? The darkening clouds of mortal belief, the warning (or mourning) of materialism's reward, of unchecked thoughts.
Ice on the sidewalk, impenetrably hard and cold. Part of the sidewalk? So it seems, until sunbeams— warming, softening, loosening— melt away hard shell of ice.
It's winter and as dark as night at 7:30 a. m.