Month: April 2012

Born of the Spirit

On By Charis PsalloIn Trees and forests, Uncategorized2 Comments

I read a quote by Bill Johnson recently: Ignorance asks for understanding; unbelief asks for proof.

I’m finished with the arguing thing. I can no more prove the existence of a loving God to an unbeliever than I can prove there is a difference between green and teal to a a blind man who insists there is no such thing as vision. Some things are spiritually ascertained. To my atheist friends I respect that your conclusion is a logical one for you.

But for me -there must be more than this.  I choose hope. My decision is not illogical, it is a-logical, free from the bonds of mere physical data, but not inconsistent with that which can be measured. For me, the beauty of creation is a road sign, not the destination.

We had a friend who said, “God could perform a miracle right in front of me and I would just look for the wires.”

He’s actually very high-functioning for a man limited to an I.Q. of 160.

Lost Angeles

On By Charis PsalloIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

My grandson today: Grammie, how come the people in California can’t find their cities? Like there’s Lost Angeles and Lost Vegas and lots of other lost places….

I explained Los Angeles is how Americans pronounce Les Anges. He understood that. He has to correct my French all the time.

Just realized these grandkids have never been out of the country. We may have to remedy that.

But first we pray for the lost places.

Christ Came Juggling

On By Charis PsalloIn Mountains, Trees and forests1 Comment

I love this poem by Eugene Warren in The Risk of Birth edited by Luci Shaw

Christ Came Juggling

Christ came juggling from the tomb,

flipping and bouncing death’s stone pages,

tossing those narrow letters high

against the roots of dawn spread in cloud.

This Jesus, clown, came dancing

in the dust of Judea, each slapping step

a new blossom spiked with joy.

Hey! Listen — that chuckle in the dark,

that clean blast of laughter behind –

Christ comes juggling our tombs,

tossing them high and higher yet,

until they hit the sun and break open

and we fall out, dancing and juggling

our griefs like sizzling balls of light.

Broken

On By Charis PsalloIn Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Come and eat, He said

The bread is fresh –

soft heart…

crisp crust…

baked by Galilean sun…

Hunger so long ignored

looked up

then dropped its weary head

My mouth is sore

I couldn’t eat it anyway

The stones…

the stones my fathers gave me

chipped my teeth

Come and eat, He said

and broke the bread

for me