Lenten Writing Project Reboot 2020! Writers' Reflections in the Wilderness of Lent
Words of Faith
Spirit to Spirit Writing Project
The word Lentcomes from an old English word meaning lengthening of days. In Christianity, it refers to the time before Easter, traditionally observed through repentance and learning. It's a season to be intentional about changing and growing. Some people give up items to create space and time for new life and habits to grow. Instead of giving something up, I invite you to try to commit to answering these writing prompts each of the 40 days of Lent. The discipline it takes to set aside time each day to reflect and write about God and your relationship with spirituality is a journey that you will emerge from with a renewed spirit. Every writer has their own special voice to add to this project, whether poetry, prose, essay, thoughts, lists, or through comments, prayer, and encouragement.
How do I participate? Each day, a writing prompt will be posted. A prompt is a question or statement that is meant to inspire your thoughts in whatever genre you feel moved to write. Post your reflections as a comment under each day's prompt (for further instructions, see 'How To Post' on the right side of the page). It is up to you if you write, read, or pray along with us each of the 40 days of Lent or just drop in from time to time when the spirit moves you to participate. Writing regularly is a discipline that many writers struggle with and this is a way to involve that discipline as a Lenten practice. Through writing and leaving encouraging words for others in this project, we become a supportive spiritual writing community
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Saint Sparrow
Write about the perspective of a
non-human character in the Bible. The colt that Jesus rode, one of the sparrows that never has to worry because God cares for it, the animals at the manger, what are some others?
There are trees that were on this earth in Jesus's time that are still here today. Not many, granted but some. Many trees, if left on there own would live longer than we will. What must they think as we rush by to do this and that, as we strive to accumulate and save and build and tear down. What must they think as they invite us under their shade and into their woods? Do we really understand what the Psalmist means that a person of faith is little a tree planted by the water? Certainly, it must to some degree mean peace. Drink deeply my friends.
To some extent the cosmos may have some built intentionality built into itself. We may be self aware so that the cosmos can be self aware. (Tillehard de Chardin) I imagine the moon in its receding monthly path watching over the drama beneath. Only revealing its true face at full moonrise. I wonder what the moon thinks. I wonder if the moon was in on that night in Bethlehem and has been keeping track since then. I wonder if there are other celestial inhabitants that are likewise observant but can only actualize through us. Doug Millar
"Doves don't usually last long in the temple market because they are inexpensive and go quickly for a sacrifice to people who can't afford anything else. But I was still here, still in my willow cage, hungry and thirsty because the moneychanger did not want to waste food on me. I would soon be gone. Today though, his greed was keeping me alive. Because of the large gathering of people in Jerusalem for Passover, he felt he could charge more than the going rate. He and already bargained for me several times but I knew I did not have much more time.
“Along with my mate I had been building a nest in a crevice of the cliffs along the shore of the Sea of Galilee when suddenly a net came over my head and I became entangled. Rough hands cut me loose and placed me in this cage, then carried me to the temple.
"The moneychanger's hands were reaching for me once again when I heard a commotion. A man was turning over the tables, spilling coins across the stone floor and setting caged doves free. He was shouting, "It is written. My house will be called a house of prayer but you are making it a den of robbers." More tables and benches flew over. Men cowered in their corners, some trying to recover the spilled coins, others covering their heads with their hands. He turned over the bench where my cage sat and the door opened. I flew free! I was free! I circled in some confusion for a moment, landed gratefully on the shoulder of my Redeemer, then flew out of the temple, back to the cliffs on the shore of the sea. " Clarene Aitken 29.3.14
I suppose you think the life of a worm is pretty easy—with nothing to do but play in the dirt all day and night, burrow along underneath all the upper level stress with a vast selection of vegetation to dine on—live greens and dried, sweet roots—and sometimes the great find of a luscious fruit for live-in feasting. Believe me, for most of us, our lives are not cut in silk. There are days when I wonder if God even remembers that I’m there, crawling along, tilling and preparing the soil for a planted or stray seed to drop in and take root. And there’s the danger of being snatched if we relax too close to the surface. Fowl play, and all manner of vegans scratching and pecking at the dirt of our existence, preying (not the blessing kind) upon us.
So, there I was one day, gliding along the upper layer just under cover when I was suddenly airborn in the beak of a raven headed for what I was sure was my demise, likely being pulled apart and fed to some squawkingchicks. We passed over a human gathering out of which came a din that seemed to shake the sky and throw my captor off his smooth course. He opened his beak to protest and I was released, sky diving toward the rocky side of a hill. I expected to splat on impact, but miraculously as I neared a large rock, my fall turned to a float and I landed lightly on the rock surface near a man babbling on and on.
He seemed to be affected by the heat, which I could understand, already feeling dried our myself. He was, I realized, yelling at God about how God was too merciful and relenting from punishing people and how foolish it made him look to tell people of Ninevah they were going to be destroyed and then not make it happen. He said he had known all along that God would pull a stunt like that, which was why he had taken off in the other direction. He said he wished he had just died inside the big fish that had swallowed him. (Yeh, right, I’m sure a fish swallowed him)
Now I was worried again. I had survived the raven and the fall and was trying to hang onto life until the sun set and the rocks cooled off, so maybe I could roll off and find a little soil. If this strange guy kept it up, God might just throw down streaks of fire or loosen the boulders above us to remind him who he was railing at, and there was I, in the path of disaster. In fact, he was n ow actually calling God out to kill him.
But instead, a bush instantly arose from the ground as quickly as a human standing up, and shade spread over the man, as well as over me. Ahh, it felt so good! I was able to relax and fall asleep, dreaming about a cool, soft bit of dirt to roll and hide in before I became dinner for a night roaming creature. I’m uncertain how long I slept before I heard a distinct whisper,
“You worm,” said the voice. “Go ahead, crawl over here and eat. You are saved from your misfortune. You are of worth in my world, and I have appointed you to eat heartily on this bush.” I could hardly believe this was possible. God talking to me and giving me and giving me a mission.
I ate and ate on into the dawn, and as the sun rose, the rest of the plant withered, so that the man no longer had any shade. He woke up and started ranting again, about the wasted bush and how he would rather die than live. God put him in his place all right. He questioned why the man cared so much about the bush which came quickly and perished quickly and not about all the people and animals of Ninevah. I decided not to stick around then as I didn’t want to get caught in this exchange, so I inched and rolled down the hill toward a patch of green weeds, full of life and satisfaction that even I, a measly worm in the eyes of higher beings, was cared about and useful to God.
Planted by the Water by Pastor Larry P Morris
ReplyDeleteThere are trees that were on this earth in Jesus's time
that are still here today.
Not many, granted
but some.
Many trees, if left on there own
would live longer than we will.
What must they think
as we rush by to do this and that,
as we strive to accumulate and save
and build and tear down.
What must they think
as they invite us under their shade
and into their woods?
Do we really understand what the Psalmist means
that a person of faith
is little a tree planted by the water?
Certainly, it must to some degree
mean
peace.
Drink deeply my friends.
"is like (not little) a tree planted by the water
Deleteopps
To some extent the cosmos may have some built intentionality built into itself. We may be self aware so that the cosmos can be self aware. (Tillehard de Chardin) I imagine the moon in its receding monthly path watching over the drama beneath. Only revealing its true face at full moonrise. I wonder what the moon thinks. I wonder if the moon was in on that night in Bethlehem and has been keeping track since then. I wonder if there are other celestial inhabitants that are likewise observant but can only actualize through us.
ReplyDeleteDoug Millar
The Dove
ReplyDelete"Doves don't usually last long in the temple market because they are inexpensive and go quickly for a sacrifice to people who can't afford anything else. But I was still here, still in my willow cage, hungry and thirsty because the moneychanger did not want to waste food on me. I would soon be gone. Today though, his greed was keeping me alive. Because of the large gathering of people in Jerusalem for Passover, he felt he could charge more than the going rate. He and already bargained for me several times but I knew I did not have much more time.
“Along with my mate I had been building a nest in a crevice of the cliffs along the shore of the Sea of Galilee when suddenly a net came over my head and I became entangled. Rough hands cut me loose and placed me in this cage, then carried me to the temple.
"The moneychanger's hands were reaching for me once again when I heard a commotion. A man was turning over the tables, spilling coins across the stone floor and setting caged doves free. He was shouting, "It is written. My house will be called a house of prayer but you are making it a den of robbers." More tables and benches flew over. Men cowered in their corners, some trying to recover the spilled coins, others covering their heads with their hands. He turned over the bench where my cage sat and the door opened. I flew free! I was free! I circled in some confusion for a moment, landed gratefully on the shoulder of my Redeemer, then flew out of the temple, back to the cliffs on the shore of the sea. "
Clarene Aitken
29.3.14
Same story - new perspective - all about freedom - yes very nice Pastor Larry
DeleteTHE WORM, JONAH, AND GOD
ReplyDeleteby Marlene Obie
I suppose you think the life of a worm is pretty easy—with nothing to do but play in the dirt all day and night, burrow along underneath all the upper level stress with a vast selection of vegetation to dine on—live greens and dried, sweet roots—and sometimes the great find of a luscious fruit for live-in feasting.
Believe me, for most of us, our lives are not cut in silk. There are days when I wonder if God even remembers that I’m there, crawling along, tilling and preparing the soil for a planted or stray seed to drop in and take root. And there’s the danger of being snatched if we relax too close to the surface. Fowl play, and all manner of vegans scratching and pecking at the dirt of our existence, preying (not the blessing kind) upon us.
So, there I was one day, gliding along the upper layer just under cover when I was suddenly airborn in the beak of a raven headed for what I was sure was my demise, likely being pulled apart and fed to some squawkingchicks. We passed over a human gathering out of which came a din that seemed to shake the sky and throw my captor off his smooth course. He opened his beak to protest and I was released, sky diving toward the rocky side of a hill. I expected to splat on impact, but miraculously as I neared a large rock, my fall turned to a float and I landed lightly on the rock surface near a man babbling on and on.
He seemed to be affected by the heat, which I could understand, already feeling dried our myself.
He was, I realized, yelling at God about how God was too merciful and relenting from punishing people and how foolish it made him look to tell people of Ninevah they were going to be destroyed and then not make it happen. He said he had known all along that God would pull a stunt like that, which was why he had taken off in the other direction. He said he wished he had just died inside the big fish that had swallowed him. (Yeh, right, I’m sure a fish swallowed him)
Now I was worried again. I had survived the raven and the fall and was trying to hang onto life until the sun set and the rocks cooled off, so maybe I could roll off and find a little soil. If this strange guy kept it up, God might just throw down streaks of fire or loosen the boulders above us to remind him who he was railing at, and there was I, in the path of disaster. In fact, he was n ow actually calling God out to kill him.
But instead, a bush instantly arose from the ground as quickly as a human standing up, and shade spread over the man, as well as over me. Ahh, it felt so good! I was able to relax and fall asleep, dreaming about a cool, soft bit of dirt to roll and hide in before I became dinner for a night roaming creature. I’m uncertain how long I slept before I heard a distinct whisper,
“You worm,” said the voice. “Go ahead, crawl over here and eat. You are saved from your misfortune. You are of worth in my world, and I have appointed you to eat heartily on this bush.”
I could hardly believe this was possible. God talking to me and giving me and giving me a mission.
I ate and ate on into the dawn, and as the sun rose, the rest of the plant withered, so that the man no longer had any shade. He woke up and started ranting again, about the wasted bush and how he would rather die than live. God put him in his place all right. He questioned why the man cared so much about the bush which came quickly and perished quickly and not about all the people and animals of Ninevah.
I decided not to stick around then as I didn’t want to get caught in this exchange, so I inched and rolled down the hill toward a patch of green weeds, full of life and satisfaction that even I, a measly worm in the eyes of higher beings, was cared about and useful to God.
Wonderful, delightful, original. I love it!
DeleteFun and wisdom together - the best kind! Pastor Larry
Delete