faith

New Year’s Resolutions: To See Goodness

Steve · December 29, 2012 · 13 Comments

hill — Hill adjacent to Volcan Cerro Negro, Nicaragua, 2009. SJ Givens photo

Over the years, here on this blog and in my 25 years of writing reflections for Living Faith, I have often recalled those times of finding and experiencing God through the wonder of the natural word. Indeed, many people say that they often experience God more intensely during a walk in the woods or along the beach than they do sitting in a church. And while I’m a big fan of sitting in churches, both in solitude and as part of a community of faith, I continue to readily find God in the simplicity and the complexity of God’s created world. For me and so many others, it is impossible to separate the created from the Creator, so the earth and all its marvels stand as constant and ever-changing monuments to the One who dreamed and fashioned and set all in motion.

In the creation story told in Genesis, even God seems to be amazed at his handiwork, so why should we not be? Over and over, at the passing of each day of work, God stands back, surveys his accomplishment, and says: “Yes, this is good.” For who can witness a clear starry night, a majestic mountain, or the power of the ocean’s surge without thinking the same? It is good, indeed.

Seeing a Clear Reflection of Ourselves

Steve · October 24, 2012 · 1 Comment

mirror1 — Mirror Lake State Park, Wisconsin. SJG photo

Sue and I are up in Wisconsin this week near the Dells, the state’s version of Disneyland or, perhaps, my own state’s Branson. Like golf, which Mark Twain and others have called “A good walk spoiled,” the Dells (and Branson) are “a beautiful view spoiled.” Anyway, I digress.

It’s mostly closed down for the season here and, in any case, we came to this area not for the cheesy (pun intended) tourist spots or the Midwest’s largest indoor waterpark, but rather to just get away and spend time alone (together). We’re staying just far enough away from the tourist hub that we can imagine what this all looked like before the advent of all-you-can-eat buffets, waterski shows, 81-hole mini golf courses and Las Vegas-like themed hotels.

The Hard Spiritual Work of Gratitude

Steve · October 14, 2012 · 4 Comments

francis — St. Francis in prayer. Photo by SJG

With November on the horizon, our thoughts almost naturally turn to ideas of the Thanksgiving holiday and, soon after, advent and Christmas. It’s a beautiful time of year, filled with family gatherings, wonderful food, parties and gifts. But let’s be truthful: it’s also a time of almost unrelenting schedules and stress.

How are we going to get all the shopping done, prepare for the onslaught of relatives, attend parties and school concerts, clean the house, take care of end of the year business, and on and on and on? It’s a time of year when we have so much to be thankful for and, in reality, so little time to spend being thankful.

Playing Hide and Seek with God

Steve · September 30, 2012 · 2 Comments

“So I said, ‘here I am.’” Psalm 40:8

Railroad tracks in North St. Louis. SJG photo.

Childhood memories are strange and powerful things.

Visiting with a woman in hospice care earlier this year, she could vividly recollect ice skating across Fairgrounds Park’s frozen lake in North St. Louis in the 1920s, even though she couldn’t tell me what she had for lunch an hour before I arrived. Perhaps sometimes God gives us just the memories we need, those that bring a little peace and joy.

God’s Eyes are on His Beloved

Steve · September 22, 2012 · 7 Comments

“But you do see; you take note of misery and sorrow;you take the matter in hand.” Psalm 10:14

JOn — My favorite photo of toddler Jon (about 1990). SJG photo.

I can still vividly recall the scene. I am watching from a distance as my son, Jon, who is two or three, is running around on a playground. He is so immersed in his play that I can see joy oozing from his pores. He is beginning to experience the wonder and power of independence from the parental units, a chance to be on his own and test his own abilities as a human. How fast can I run, he wonders. How high can I climb?

But then he falls hard, tripped up by an untied shoelace or perhaps just the clumsy feet of a toddler. He gets up and looks around. Seeing no one, he resumes playing, unwilling to give up his freedom. But as I walk toward him he sees me and, you guessed it, begins crying and pointing at his knees. Apparently, he didn’t know he was hurt until he saw someone who cared, someone who would scoop him up and take care of him.