2 Corinthians 4:1,2; 7-12
Therefore, since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Judas
They are not
what we thought they were.
An answer to the question. A stake
in the ground. Sunlight pushing
through clouds to brighten a
December morning in Duluth. No,
they are the cloud cover
and the question
and a concrete slab poured over
the soft earth of faith.
More Judas than Jesus, more
hidden than revealed,
we turn our cheek for the kiss,
close our eyes and know that
we are not
what we thought we were either.
Natalie Rust Morris - June 27, 2008
what we thought they were.
An answer to the question. A stake
in the ground. Sunlight pushing
through clouds to brighten a
December morning in Duluth. No,
they are the cloud cover
and the question
and a concrete slab poured over
the soft earth of faith.
More Judas than Jesus, more
hidden than revealed,
we turn our cheek for the kiss,
close our eyes and know that
we are not
what we thought we were either.
Natalie Rust Morris - June 27, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
beautiful mess
She visits my garden overgrown during the
long rainy season. She brings her spade and
meets me out back eager for pungent handfuls of earth.
I can only watch from the kitchen window.
She hasn’t brought some guy from Home Depot’s
parking lot to do the heavy lifting. Working the dirt
with calloused hands, she observes the beautiful
mess and removes weeds one by one by one.
There’s no rush to the finish. Tentatively I follow
her lead, falling to my knees and accepting
the tedious work without knowing where it will
lead. No shortcuts here.
As dusk approaches, I notice we’ve set free only a
small section of the garden, leaving scattered
scarlet flowers in the ground. She has found
what she was looking for and so have I, for now.
“The rainy season brings more than weeds,” she says,
“and the beauty needs to stay.” I can only cling to
the words. Come the dawn I pull on my gloves and
step outside to find my spirit already at work.
Natalie Rust Morris – September 1, 2008
long rainy season. She brings her spade and
meets me out back eager for pungent handfuls of earth.
I can only watch from the kitchen window.
She hasn’t brought some guy from Home Depot’s
parking lot to do the heavy lifting. Working the dirt
with calloused hands, she observes the beautiful
mess and removes weeds one by one by one.
There’s no rush to the finish. Tentatively I follow
her lead, falling to my knees and accepting
the tedious work without knowing where it will
lead. No shortcuts here.
As dusk approaches, I notice we’ve set free only a
small section of the garden, leaving scattered
scarlet flowers in the ground. She has found
what she was looking for and so have I, for now.
“The rainy season brings more than weeds,” she says,
“and the beauty needs to stay.” I can only cling to
the words. Come the dawn I pull on my gloves and
step outside to find my spirit already at work.
Natalie Rust Morris – September 1, 2008
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