Doesn’t mean that there’s not still real work to be done.

Some people are too busy to simply be with Jesus. They live more like human doings rather than human beings. Productivity outweighs intimacy. Acting like a servant outweighs acting like a friend. If that’s you, do the hard work of clearing your calendar to make space for being Jesus.

Some people are too enraptured in Jesus’ presence to get anything done. They are, as the saying goes, too heavenly minded to be any earthly good. Being a good contemplative becomes an excuse to not be a good friend to others. If that’s you, do the hard work of getting your hands dirty alongside others.

There are two literal fires in John’s gospel.

The first fire was in the courtyard of the high priest. It was a cold night, so some of his servants and officials were huddled around, warming themselves. Then along came Peter, who had been brought along with the arrested Jesus, whom he denied knowing as he stood there, fearfully surrounded by the enemy.

The second fire was on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Peter, who had grown tired of just sitting around, had announced that he was going fishing. After a long, fruitless night on the water, as dawn arrived, there was a small fire on the shore. Suddenly, realizing that it was Jesus by the fire, Peter swam to shore as fast as he could.

If there’s one thing that Peter couldn’t abide, it was being stuck on a boat when Jesus was suddenly nearby.

Once, when Jesus surprised them by walking out on the water, Peter accepted the dare to walk out to him, took a few steps, then sank.

Later, after Jesus had risen from the dead and appeared on the shore, Peter dropped his fishing net, dove in, left his friends to row the boat with the giant haul of fish, and swam to shore.

When he shows up on the shore of your life is easy to do:

When it’s too early in the morning. When it’s too late at night.

When you’re focused at work. When you’re numbed in entertainment.

When you’re surrounded by other people. When you’re all alone.

Might just be the most faithful thing you can do.

Spending time in the places where you feel most at home. Relating to those people that feel like your people. Doing the tasks that you are experienced in accomplishing. Simply being who you are.

As Thomas Merton puts it:

“A tree gives glory to God by being a tree. For in being what God means it to be it is obeying God. It ‘consents,’ so to speak, to God’s creative love… a tree imitates God by being a tree… The more a tree is like itself, the more it is like Him.”

New Seeds of Contemplation

There’s never enough time or paper or ink or bandwidth to tell the entire story. Details must be left out. Entire scenes must be left out. What is included must be worth the time, energy, and expense on the part of the author as well as the reader.

A storyteller’s task is to write something worth reading. Which means leaving out content that is less potent or valuable.

The very best storytellers, the giants in literature, don’t merely write willy-nilly. Rather, they are exacting and cunning in their craft, choosing what to keep and what to cut with purpose and poise.

But, thankfully, it’s not the only way that one comes to believe in something.

Hearing can be believing. Someone’s story of redemption. A love song. Thunder in the distance. A parable.

Touching can be believing. A comforting hug. Sunshine on the face. A miraculously healed disease. The blessing hand of a priest.

We all need a reason to believe. The question is, is the reason we’re looking for realistic or unrealistic?

Let me suggest a simple test: Have a number of credible people that you know experienced something that has made them believers? Ask for that experience yourself. Don’t go crazy. Don’t think of some bizarre cosmic test for God to pass in order to impress you. Begin with the experiences of people you know and trust.

As supernatural as God may be, he manifests himself within our natural reality. Start there.

Are in personal experience. Real belief doesn’t get passed on through DNA. We can pass on religious traditions through our family and extended community, but not actual faith. We learn whole-hearted trust in someone else not by reading their bio, but rather by giving them time to prove themselves in relationship with us.

At some point, your faith has to have a foundation that is not simply taking someone else’s word for it—you have to encounter the divine for yourself.

At some point, you have to let someone else encounter the divine for themselves—you have to give them the freedom to build their own foundation rather than just take your word for it.

At some point, “We have seen the Lord!” must become, “I have seen the Lord!”

Unforgiveness  a lock. Condemnation and judgment are a prison. Guilt and shame are shackles.

When I am unrelenting in my unforgiveness towards others, I restrict their flourishing. When I am pitiless in my unforgiveness toward myself, I hold myself from the joy of being fully alive.