Passing Notes

Lord, every day I must be reminded of your character, for as the day wears on my souls wears out and at noon you are only mostly-good, at dinner you are a kind old man, and at twilight, who are you? You are just a cosmic shadow, present only in a very unreal way.

But then you slip me a note in the mornings as we sit over coffee and oatmeal. Sometimes the note-bearer is the prophet Jeremiah, he may be the herald. Or sometimes John Ortberg brings me the note and slips it under my breakfast bowl. Or sometimes it is C.S., or Lucy Maude, or Buechner... It doesn't matter exactly who brings it; it matters that it's from you.

And so I open the note warily, unsure it will be interesting. Or I read it expecting to be bored. And every day I read it I realize what a fool I am--because it is always filled with joy! It is filled with the most beautiful words by the most beautiful mind that has ever or will ever exist! They are words of hope, of life, of remembrance. And it is like a light bulb goes off and I remember.

I remember with all joy that you are good. That you are exactly the one I have been hoping for, and that your character is all that I could ever desire. How lovely it is to remember that the one you love is lovely. To remember that the one who loves you is so truly loveable--the epitome of all hopes and desires.

So this morning John Ortberg slipped me your note, and as my eyes skimmed over letters, words, sentences, I was enlivened, overjoyed, and so grateful for you. You are everything good. What a forgetful child. Remind me always, Lord. Speak, and speak eternally.

Amen.

What do you call it when your brain is tired? Too tired to do much, but too restless not to do anything? I think I have a bad case of that.

Notes from Morning Readings

"We must not think Pride is something God forbids because He is offended at it, or that Humility is something He demands as due to His own dignity- as if God Himself was proud. He is not in the least worried about His dignity. The point is, He wants you to know Him: wants to give you Himself. And He and you are two things of such a kind that if you really get into any kind of touch with Him you will, in fact, be humble-delightedly humble, feeling the infinite relief of having for once got rid of all the silly nonsense about your own dignity which has made you restless and unhappy all your life. He is trying to make you humble in order to make this moment poassible: trying to take off a lot of silly, ugly, fancy-dress in which we have all got ourselves up and are strutting about like the little idiots we are. I wish I had got a bit further with humility myself: if I had, I could probably tell you more about the relief, the comfort, of taking the fancy-dress off- getting rid of the false self, with all its "Look at me" and "Aren't I a good boy?" and all its posing and posturing. To get even near it, even for a moment, is like a drink of cold water to a man in a desert."

CSL, MC, p. 113-114