The following excerpts are from A Plain Life, by Scott Savage. A resident of Ohio, he and his wife began to explore what it meant to live simply, eventually becoming Quakers, moving to a farm in a predominately Amish community and traveling by horse and buggy.
The book narrates an eight-day pilgrimage that Savage took when he walked across Ohio to turn in his driver's license and fully relinquish his driving privileges. Reflecting on what it means to live simply, I enjoyed his thoughts on what it means to embrace simplicity as an act of worship, a spiritual discipline and a way of living out a Christ-centered life.
"Living this other life, a plain life, is allowing me to strive to be what the Lord wants: purely myself, the same on the inside as on the outside. In that grounded, authentic place of being, I know that I can hear Him calling us, and I can pass that calling on."-Pg 206
"Is this conformity a bad thing? It certainly isn't mindless. This conformity to a higher good is quite intentional, a willed emptyness of self that God lovingly fills. See the fruits of it here? Blessed are they who abandon self will, leaving room for God to fill up their lives with His order and righteousness. 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'" -Pg 56
"Unlike the Amish, who make such limit-setting a group process, my transition to horse and buggy has necessitated a more individually sought loss of control, a limitation posed entirely from within rather than from without. But in both cases, of Amish Ordnung (ordering) or Quaker witness, the ultimate causal force is God. God is always asking us- as communities and as individuals- to give up our willful control to Him."-Pg 107
"If our hearts are set single-mindedly on the Lord, then worship and life are the same thing. On earth as it is in heaven, amen." -Pg 136
Monday, September 21, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
pierogies
"The Lord walks among the pots and pans."
-St. Teresa of Ávila
The joy of having time in abundance is that recipes that require many hours of potato peeling, dough kneading, boiling and baking become fun challenges. And seeing as how the mention of pierogies evokes confused and baffled expressions from Southerners, it was enjoyable to tackle the making of some Pittsburgh-esqe pierogies.
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I've been reflecting a lot lately on what it means to live in a contemplative stance, one of being present to God, neighbor and self. Cooking and baking root me in the reality of the present; of mixing, stirring, creating- yet these acts take time and patience and make space for reflection and renewal.
To pray as I fold pierogies, to sing as I stir cookie dough, to ponder as I chop and dice and mix. To be present to the reality in front of me. To be present to God.
Waiting is an action. Being present is an action. An action of stillness, of peace, of quiet reflection. And yet it is an act, a choice, a decision to engage in such presence.
"It [the retreat house] is a place of action, because we believe spiritual action is the hardest of all- to praise and worship God, to thank Him, to petition Him for our brothers, to repent our sins and those of others. This is action, just as the taking of cities is action, as revolution is action, as the Corporal Works of Mercy are action. And just to lie in the sun and let God work on you is to be sitting in the light of the Sun of Justice, and the growth will be there, and joy will grow and spread from us to others."
-Pg. 104, from Dorothy Day: Selected Writings
At times my spirit is anxious to do; anxious for work, for tasks, for all of those things that I seem to lump together as "having purpose."
And yet the Lord has been reminding me through the words of Scripture, Teresa of Ávila, and Dorothy Day that He dwells in the sacraments of daily life- of dishes and laundry and reading and cups of tea and the simple, tiny things- if only we have the eyes to see and the wisdom to experience his presence.
His presence in these acts of life is humbling, a reminder of Christ's humanity, a reminder of my sin, a way of revealing to me the truth that he works through the weakest, in the abandoned places of the empire, that when we grasp for grandeur we lose sight of the power of the Spirit upon the ordinary, that we might see Him, the Divine, in each and every piece of his creation.
Oh that I might not think so highly of myself as to fail to see the interwoven nature of the Body- that the Kingdom brings new meaning to words of equality and justice.
To feed our souls upon the Truth and to find within its doors the reality of life as an act of worship- each moment, each breath, each activity- a movement for Him.
I am grateful for this time to be still, to be slow, to be intentional, to be responsive, to be contemplative.
"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God."
-Romans 5:1-2
-St. Teresa of Ávila
The joy of having time in abundance is that recipes that require many hours of potato peeling, dough kneading, boiling and baking become fun challenges. And seeing as how the mention of pierogies evokes confused and baffled expressions from Southerners, it was enjoyable to tackle the making of some Pittsburgh-esqe pierogies.
.jpg)
.jpg)
I've been reflecting a lot lately on what it means to live in a contemplative stance, one of being present to God, neighbor and self. Cooking and baking root me in the reality of the present; of mixing, stirring, creating- yet these acts take time and patience and make space for reflection and renewal.
To pray as I fold pierogies, to sing as I stir cookie dough, to ponder as I chop and dice and mix. To be present to the reality in front of me. To be present to God.
Waiting is an action. Being present is an action. An action of stillness, of peace, of quiet reflection. And yet it is an act, a choice, a decision to engage in such presence.
"It [the retreat house] is a place of action, because we believe spiritual action is the hardest of all- to praise and worship God, to thank Him, to petition Him for our brothers, to repent our sins and those of others. This is action, just as the taking of cities is action, as revolution is action, as the Corporal Works of Mercy are action. And just to lie in the sun and let God work on you is to be sitting in the light of the Sun of Justice, and the growth will be there, and joy will grow and spread from us to others."
-Pg. 104, from Dorothy Day: Selected Writings
At times my spirit is anxious to do; anxious for work, for tasks, for all of those things that I seem to lump together as "having purpose."
And yet the Lord has been reminding me through the words of Scripture, Teresa of Ávila, and Dorothy Day that He dwells in the sacraments of daily life- of dishes and laundry and reading and cups of tea and the simple, tiny things- if only we have the eyes to see and the wisdom to experience his presence.
His presence in these acts of life is humbling, a reminder of Christ's humanity, a reminder of my sin, a way of revealing to me the truth that he works through the weakest, in the abandoned places of the empire, that when we grasp for grandeur we lose sight of the power of the Spirit upon the ordinary, that we might see Him, the Divine, in each and every piece of his creation.
Oh that I might not think so highly of myself as to fail to see the interwoven nature of the Body- that the Kingdom brings new meaning to words of equality and justice.
To feed our souls upon the Truth and to find within its doors the reality of life as an act of worship- each moment, each breath, each activity- a movement for Him.
I am grateful for this time to be still, to be slow, to be intentional, to be responsive, to be contemplative.
"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God."
-Romans 5:1-2
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
vision check
B...P...C...O...D...F
(crap...is that really an F? is it a P? But I already read a P. Maybe they're trying to trick us by putting two...oh crap, maybe my vision has become worse...)
I've had glasses since second grade, contacts since seventh. Annual eye doctor appointments are always a test of my ability to read those tiny letters from a distance and try not to over think my answers. (The worst that can happen is my prescription is upped. Somehow that is not motivation enough to just relax and read the letters.)
Oh, mercy, fall on me
like a warm blanket on my cold, cold heart
clean me with your blood that turns me white...on the inside
I'm on my knees again 'cause I'm breaking your heart
The first vision test, they let you wear your contacts. Normal, everyday vision used to read the letters on the poster. An instinctive means of gathering information that the contact lenses make possible every single day.
Then the contacts have to be removed- and everything is blurry. Shapes instead of distinct figures. Blobs where there once were sharp lines. I always hate this part the most. The sitting and waiting and conversing aren't the problem- it's having to do all of these things while feeling blind and squint-y.
Put in me what I cannot buy with gold
Put in me, Oh God, come restore my broken soul
Put in me what I cannot give myself
Put in me...a clean heart
And then it's time for the second reading of the letters chart. Lenses slipped in front of your blurry eyes to test if you need this kind of prescription or this or this. Is this better or worse? Next lens. Better or worse?
I know all my broken places like the back of my hand
that slapped your face again
wash me with your love and hold me tight like a baby
'till I have no memory of ever breaking your heart
Looking at the coming months feels a bit like sitting blurry-eyed in the optometrist's chair. Details of the coming months vague. Plans flexible. Schedules loose if even existent. Shapes in the place of distinct figures.
And the question is not if I need glasses or contacts, because there's not a doubt in my mind that I can't see the world as the Lord desires me to see it unless he gives me the eyes (the lenses) to see.
The question is how often I let my human nature cloud my vision. How often I let the muck of the world change how I see my brothers and sisters, how I see the earth, how I see life and love and service.
And I think I'm seeing clearly, I think my vision is perfect, because the change is slow, gradual, a daily altering of my worldview.
But then the Lord gently takes my contacts out, shows me the blurry nature of my vision and asks me to seek his face.
To let go of the details, the plans, the clarity of thinking I know something.
To let Him give me vision, not the world.
To let Him show me my broken places and to heal.
To let the blurry-ness lead me to my knees, to prayer, to wholeness.
and in the joy when you restore me
I will stand and walk again
I will run into this world I will call them to come in
but I will not point my finger or grow that wicked skin
that cannot remember what I will not forget
how I broke you, or how I'm broken
Put in me what I cannot buy with gold
Put in me, Oh God, come restore my broken soul
Put in me what I cannot give myself
Put in me...a clean heart
-lyrics from "Put in Me" by Enter the Worship Circle, First Circle
(crap...is that really an F? is it a P? But I already read a P. Maybe they're trying to trick us by putting two...oh crap, maybe my vision has become worse...)
I've had glasses since second grade, contacts since seventh. Annual eye doctor appointments are always a test of my ability to read those tiny letters from a distance and try not to over think my answers. (The worst that can happen is my prescription is upped. Somehow that is not motivation enough to just relax and read the letters.)
Oh, mercy, fall on me
like a warm blanket on my cold, cold heart
clean me with your blood that turns me white...on the inside
I'm on my knees again 'cause I'm breaking your heart
The first vision test, they let you wear your contacts. Normal, everyday vision used to read the letters on the poster. An instinctive means of gathering information that the contact lenses make possible every single day.
Then the contacts have to be removed- and everything is blurry. Shapes instead of distinct figures. Blobs where there once were sharp lines. I always hate this part the most. The sitting and waiting and conversing aren't the problem- it's having to do all of these things while feeling blind and squint-y.
Put in me what I cannot buy with gold
Put in me, Oh God, come restore my broken soul
Put in me what I cannot give myself
Put in me...a clean heart
And then it's time for the second reading of the letters chart. Lenses slipped in front of your blurry eyes to test if you need this kind of prescription or this or this. Is this better or worse? Next lens. Better or worse?
I know all my broken places like the back of my hand
that slapped your face again
wash me with your love and hold me tight like a baby
'till I have no memory of ever breaking your heart
Looking at the coming months feels a bit like sitting blurry-eyed in the optometrist's chair. Details of the coming months vague. Plans flexible. Schedules loose if even existent. Shapes in the place of distinct figures.
And the question is not if I need glasses or contacts, because there's not a doubt in my mind that I can't see the world as the Lord desires me to see it unless he gives me the eyes (the lenses) to see.
The question is how often I let my human nature cloud my vision. How often I let the muck of the world change how I see my brothers and sisters, how I see the earth, how I see life and love and service.
And I think I'm seeing clearly, I think my vision is perfect, because the change is slow, gradual, a daily altering of my worldview.
But then the Lord gently takes my contacts out, shows me the blurry nature of my vision and asks me to seek his face.
To let go of the details, the plans, the clarity of thinking I know something.
To let Him give me vision, not the world.
To let Him show me my broken places and to heal.
To let the blurry-ness lead me to my knees, to prayer, to wholeness.
and in the joy when you restore me
I will stand and walk again
I will run into this world I will call them to come in
but I will not point my finger or grow that wicked skin
that cannot remember what I will not forget
how I broke you, or how I'm broken
Put in me what I cannot buy with gold
Put in me, Oh God, come restore my broken soul
Put in me what I cannot give myself
Put in me...a clean heart
-lyrics from "Put in Me" by Enter the Worship Circle, First Circle
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