Compassion is our purpose

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

Pat Schneider


I was given Mattie this morning. Her mother woke her from sleep and placed her within my arms. She lay still, quiet, and warm – her small hands resting in mine. What a wonderful gift to be given. What a fantastic thing to simply hold another in your arms.

Last evening I was quite ill with the world and the evil that places itself within me on occasion leaked out upon my most treasured gifts. My wife, my son, and my daughter where exposed to evil simply because of my lack of patience, my lack of love.

And yet, the compassion of family arose afresh this morning.


Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3: 22-23


My children again love – My wife again loves – and I am weakened by this, yielding to Love. The wonder of the story of GOD is that his Glory shines within his righteous Wrath (not that my said wrath is righteous, it in fact is hell) as much as in his compassionate Love. But the Love triumphs over Wrath and Jesus in all his being disarms the grasp of hell so that compassion rules in the hearts of man.

It is our purpose - Our ordinary patience that completes the action of Love.

May we all be broken – May we all be supplied compassion – May we all give the same.

Created for His Glory

It is the Sabbath of the soul when we heed the call to cease creating and remember that we are created.

Dark Night of the Soul: St. John of the Cross


To stand under a massive Oak looking skyward is one of many humbling experience in life. Looking beyond the girth and medley of branches to the illumination of the stars, one seems small. To internally hear the rush of great waters being pumped up and down the trunk supplying life and existence to all the extremities. To know that this tree – this organism that exists within creation is much more experienced in age as well as in quality of life. You see, this tree is under the rule of God as well, only this tree simply lives – this tree lives to the Glory of God. This tree performs exactly as it was created. There is no rebellion within its bark. This tree simply stands and proclaims God. As do the stars twinkling down.

Do I proclaim God? Do I give Glory? Allow Glory? At least point to Glory? Am I living as I was created? Or am I rebelling with every breath?