Mice & Mosquitos
“Some brothers . . . went to see Abba Felix and they begged him to say a word to them. But the old man kept silence. After they had asked for a long time he said to them, “You wish to hear a word?” They said, “Yes, abba.” Then the old man said to them, “There are no more words nowadays. When the brothers used to consult the old men and when they did what was said to them, God showed them how to speak. But now, since they ask without doing that which they hear, God has withdrawn the grace of the word from the old men and they do not find anything to say, since there are no longer any who carry the words out.” Hearing this, the brothers groaned, saying, “Pray for us, abba.” (Ward, The Desert Christian. . .P 41 of To Know As We Are Known)
God help us. We are in need of much intercession. Ours is a age in love with faith, but not in love with the object of faith. We like to be spiritual, to put it on like a pretty garment. It is the new word for the open-minded renaissance man or woman. But are we faithful? Are we faithful to Jesus Christ? And there he is before us, always before us in the words passed down, perhaps the most written about event in all of mankind's varied history ... has one phrase ever been said and studied more than "Christ crucified"?
Our world is full of suffering. Even in happy places with material wealth and success, we find complex suffering and pain. And so it is for us to look upon the cross and see Jesus Christ.
The crucified emporor,
the imperialist who was willing to lay down his life in humiliation, in scourging and in death,
the one who let the micely men strike his face and tear his beard,
who watched a monkey-lord present him in purple,
bleeding from his crown, crowned with thorns,
the one who whipped the sellers out of the temple,
let the same vain, power-hungry, mosquito men strip him down and gamble for his clothes.
And he is the one who prays for us.
He is the one who asks mercy upon us.
He is the one I believe in.
Good Lord, make us faithful ...
we who are grass and flower ...
we who are mice and mosquitos ...
we who are dust, shaped in your image and then cursed in our rebellion,
like the ground west of Eden.
Oh Lord, our hearts are laid bare before you.
Oh Lord, how bare our hearts are without you.
So create in us anew, a faithful people ...
from the same dust you took upon yourself.
Lord I believe in the truth of the gospel. The truth of the gospel makes a claim upon me in your commandments. And your commandments are life. May it be so.
Peterson writes about the gluttony of the cultured mind in the age of print. Our eyes are ever looking, ever collecting, ever consuming facts and information. We are "no longer listening to a voice, not listening to the God to whom [we] will give a response in obedience and faith, becoming the person[s] he is calling into existence." Instead we are looking for something we could use to do a better job. We must hear a voice that claims our allegiance so we can enter into his Kingdom.
God help us. We are in need of much intercession. Ours is a age in love with faith, but not in love with the object of faith. We like to be spiritual, to put it on like a pretty garment. It is the new word for the open-minded renaissance man or woman. But are we faithful? Are we faithful to Jesus Christ? And there he is before us, always before us in the words passed down, perhaps the most written about event in all of mankind's varied history ... has one phrase ever been said and studied more than "Christ crucified"?
Our world is full of suffering. Even in happy places with material wealth and success, we find complex suffering and pain. And so it is for us to look upon the cross and see Jesus Christ.
The crucified emporor,
the imperialist who was willing to lay down his life in humiliation, in scourging and in death,
the one who let the micely men strike his face and tear his beard,
who watched a monkey-lord present him in purple,
bleeding from his crown, crowned with thorns,
the one who whipped the sellers out of the temple,
let the same vain, power-hungry, mosquito men strip him down and gamble for his clothes.
And he is the one who prays for us.
He is the one who asks mercy upon us.
He is the one I believe in.
Good Lord, make us faithful ...
we who are grass and flower ...
we who are mice and mosquitos ...
we who are dust, shaped in your image and then cursed in our rebellion,
like the ground west of Eden.
Oh Lord, our hearts are laid bare before you.
Oh Lord, how bare our hearts are without you.
So create in us anew, a faithful people ...
from the same dust you took upon yourself.
Lord I believe in the truth of the gospel. The truth of the gospel makes a claim upon me in your commandments. And your commandments are life. May it be so.
Peterson writes about the gluttony of the cultured mind in the age of print. Our eyes are ever looking, ever collecting, ever consuming facts and information. We are "no longer listening to a voice, not listening to the God to whom [we] will give a response in obedience and faith, becoming the person[s] he is calling into existence." Instead we are looking for something we could use to do a better job. We must hear a voice that claims our allegiance so we can enter into his Kingdom.
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