Wrote an email to a friend this morning.
Said I was going to a church down the coast to edify the saints.
The predictive text didn't recognise edify and offered an alternative.
This meant I had the slightly more difficult task of going to deify the saints!
…
On days when my perfectionist tendencies play up, Thomas Merton brings me down the necessary peg or two:
"It is true that we make many mistakes. But the biggest of them all is to be surprised at them: as if we had some hope of never making any…above all we must learn our own weakness in order to awaken to a new order of action and being – and experience God himself accomplishing in us the things we find impossible.
…
And since it's Sunday, and I've been reading Wendell Berry's Sabbath poems, here's one which I think is a beautiful meditiation on those nameless longings that remind us we are made for heaven, and for God, and for life in all its fullness.
From Leavings, XII
Learn by little the desire for all things
which perhaps is not desire at all
but undying love which perhaps
is not love at all but gratitude
for the being of all things which
perhaps is not gratitude at all
but the maker’s joy in what is made,
the joy in which we come to rest.”
This Day. Collected and New Sabbath Poems, Wendell Berry (Berkley: Counterpoint Press, 2013) 312
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