http://community.radiantmagazine.com/service/getFeed.kickAction?quantity=25 New blogs from rachael.reedake on Radiant magazine Sun, 21 Jun 2009 10:02:55 GMT Sun, 21 Jun 2009 10:02:55 GMT radiant@radiantmagazine.com (relevant) radiant@radiantmagazine.com (relevant) KickApps Feed Builder 2009-06-21T10:02:55Z 4 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/service/searchEverything.kickAction?as=57566&sortType=recent 0 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_Ah-to-be-an-elephant/BLOG/400686/57566.html What a strange thing the memory is - a strange fabric, interwoven with both fibres of fragility and strength.  The very things we want to remember fray and wear away gently, without us even noticing.  These are the small intentions of the things we ought to do, the name of the brilliant movie we saw last week, or even the important lessons we learn in life.   All of these things join into a slow and constant fade as our minds continue this business of forgetting: letting go of strands, while even more new strands are woven in.  Our memory clothes us with an ever-changing garment.  And yet, some parts of memory are strong.  Woven in with threads of steel, they form the backbone of this delicate structure.  These fragments of beautiful or painful times are embedded deep in the centre, beyond the reach of the forces which can steal memories.  These moments are the ones that we will never forget, and it is they that form the shape of our lives.I admit that I am a poor student in the school of life.  It seems that I forget the lessons God teaches me almost as soon as I learn them.  Like many students, I learn what I need to for the exam, and then forget it straight away.  Ah, to be an elephant!  (They say he never forgets.)  How God must despair over his children's forgetfulness!  We are so quick to forget and so slow to learn.  The Israelites were a forgetful people.  The people building the temple under Nehemiah repented of their ancestors' forgetfulness: "Our forefathers became arrogant and stiff-necked, and did not obey your commands. They refused to listen and failed to remember the miracles you performed among them" (Nehemiah 9:16-17).  Jesus also chided his disciples for their forgetfulness: "Be careful," Jesus warned them. "Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod."  They discussed this with one another and said, "It is because we have no bread."  Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked them: "Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not see or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don't you remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?" "Twelve," they replied. "And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?" They answered, "Seven." He said to them, "Do you still not understand?" (Mark 8:15-21)And Jesus says to us too, "Don't you remember?"  He may say - "Why are you so fearful? Don't you remember that you can trust me?"  He may say - "Why are you so disobedient?  Don't you remember how this grieves my heart?" He may say - "Why are you so selfish?  Don't you remember that everything you have comes from me?  He may say - "Why are you so apathetic about serving me?  Don't you remember what I have done for you?"  Jesus' call of "Don't you remember?" encourages us to weave the stories of God's activity in our life into our memories in threads of steel which will not fray, and in bold colours which will never fail to capture our attention.  Deuteronomy 4:9 tells us, "Be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live."  We need to learn how to remember what God has taught us.  Deuteronomy 6:6 says, "These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. "  In other words, place the things that God has put in your heart into someone else's heart.  Talk about what you have seen as you meet over coffee or as you speak in the quiet hours of the remains of the day.  Write down what God has done in a journal or a blog or on a post-it note  on the back of the sun visor in your car.  Do whatever you can to embed these memories of the stories of God's work deep in the centre, to make them a part of the shape of your life.It is a comfort in our forgetfulness that we have a God who remembers our fragile minds.  Psalm 103:14 tells us, "He knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust."  And so he is patient with us, and will teach us the lesson again (if we need it).  And it is a comfort that we have a God who never forgets us, although we may forget him or what he has done.  Isaiah 49:15-16 says, "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."  What a strange thing the memory is - a strange fabric, interwoven with both fibres of fragility and strength.  The very things we want to remember fray and wear away gently, without us even noticing.  These are the small intentions of the things we ought to do, the name of the brilliant movie we saw last week, or even the important lessons we learn in life.   All of these things join into a slow and constant fade as our minds continue this business of forgetting: letting go of strands, while even more new strands are woven in.  Our memory clothes us with an ever-changing garment.  And yet, some parts of memory are strong.  Woven in with threads of steel, they form the backbone of this delicate structure.  These fragments of beautiful or painful times are embedded deep in the centre, beyond the reach of the forces which can steal memories.  These moments are the ones that we will never forget, and it is they that form the shape of our lives.I admit that I am a poor student in the school of life.  It seems that I forget the lessons God teaches me almost as soon as I learn them.  Like many students, I learn what I need to for the exam, and then forget it straight away.  Ah, to be an elephant!  (They say he never forgets.)  How God must despair over his children's forgetfulness!  We are so quick to forget and so slow to learn.  The Israelites were a forgetful people.  The people building the temple under Nehemiah repented of their ancestors' forgetfulness: "Our forefathers became arrogant and stiff-necked, and did not obey your commands. They refused to listen and failed to remember the miracles you performed among them" (Nehemiah 9:16-17).  Jesus also chided his disciples for their forgetfulness: "Be careful," Jesus warned them. "Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod."  They discussed this with one another and said, "It is because we have no bread."  Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked them: "Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not see or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don't you remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?" "Twelve," they replied. "And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?" They answered, "Seven." He said to them, "Do you still not understand?" (Mark 8:15-21)And Jesus says to us too, "Don't you remember?"  He may say - "Why are you so fearful? Don't you remember that you can trust me?"  He may say - "Why are you so disobedient?  Don't you remember how this grieves my heart?" He may say - "Why are you so selfish?  Don't you remember that everything you have comes from me?  He may say - "Why are you so apathetic about serving me?  Don't you remember what I have done for you?"  Jesus' call of "Don't you remember?" encourages us to weave the stories of God's activity in our life into our memories in threads of steel which will not fray, and in bold colours which will never fail to capture our attention.  Deuteronomy 4:9 tells us, "Be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live."  We need to learn how to remember what God has taught us.  Deuteronomy 6:6 says, "These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. "  In other words, place the things that God has put in your heart into someone else's heart.  Talk about what you have seen as you meet over coffee or as you speak in the quiet hours of the remains of the day.  Write down what God has done in a journal or a blog or on a post-it note  on the back of the sun visor in your car.  Do whatever you can to embed these memories of the stories of God's work deep in the centre, to make them a part of the shape of your life.It is a comfort in our forgetfulness that we have a God who remembers our fragile minds.  Psalm 103:14 tells us, "He knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust."  And so he is patient with us, and will teach us the lesson again (if we need it).  And it is a comfort that we have a God who never forgets us, although we may forget him or what he has done.  Isaiah 49:15-16 says, "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."  Sun, 21 Jun 2009 10:02:55 GMT http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_Ah-to-be-an-elephant/BLOG/400686/57566.html rachael.reedake 2009-06-21T10:02:55Z Radiant magazine What a strange thing the memory is - a strange fabric, interwoven with both fibres of fragility and strength.  The very things we want to remember fray and wear away gently, without us even noticing.  These are the small intentions of the things we ought to do, the name of the brilliant movie we saw last week, or even the important lessons we learn in life.   All of these things join into a slow and constant fade as our minds continue this business of forgetting: letting go of strands, while even more new strands are woven in.  Our memory clothes us with an ever-changing garment.  And yet, some parts of memory are strong.  Woven in with threads of steel, they form the backbone of this delicate structure.  These fragments of beautiful or painful times are embedded deep in the centre, beyond the reach of the forces which can steal memories.  These moments are the ones that we will never forget, and it is they that form the shape of our lives.I admit that I am a poor student in the school of life.  It seems that I forget the lessons God teaches me almost as soon as I learn them.  Like many students, I learn what I need to for the exam, and then forget it straight away.  Ah, to be an elephant!  (They say he never forgets.)  How God must despair over his children's forgetfulness!  We are so quick to forget and so slow to learn.  The Israelites were a forgetful people.  The people building the temple under Nehemiah repented of their ancestors' forgetfulness: "Our forefathers became arrogant and stiff-necked, and did not obey your commands. They refused to listen and failed to remember the miracles you performed among them" (Nehemiah 9:16-17).  Jesus also chided his disciples for their forgetfulness: "Be careful," Jesus warned them. "Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod."  They discussed this with one another and said, "It is because we have no bread."  Aware of their discussion, Jesus asked them: "Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not see or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don't you remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?" "Twelve," they replied. "And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?" They answered, "Seven." He said to them, "Do you still not understand?" (Mark 8:15-21)And Jesus says to us too, "Don't you remember?"  He may say - "Why are you so fearful? Don't you remember that you can trust me?"  He may say - "Why are you so disobedient?  Don't you remember how this grieves my heart?" He may say - "Why are you so selfish?  Don't you remember that everything you have comes from me?  He may say - "Why are you so apathetic about serving me?  Don't you remember what I have done for you?"  Jesus' call of "Don't you remember?" encourages us to weave the stories of God's activity in our life into our memories in threads of steel which will not fray, and in bold colours which will never fail to capture our attention.  Deuteronomy 4:9 tells us, "Be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live."  We need to learn how to remember what God has taught us.  Deuteronomy 6:6 says, "These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. "  In other words, place the things that God has put in your heart into someone else's heart.  Talk about what you have seen as you meet over coffee or as you speak in the quiet hours of the remains of the day.  Write down what God has done in a journal or a blog or on a post-it note  on the back of the sun visor in your car.  Do whatever you can to embed these memories of the stories of God's work deep in the centre, to make them a part of the shape of your life.It is a comfort in our forgetfulness that we have a God who remembers our fragile minds.  Psalm 103:14 tells us, "He knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust."  And so he is patient with us, and will teach us the lesson again (if we need it).  And it is a comfort that we have a God who never forgets us, although we may forget him or what he has done.  Isaiah 49:15-16 says, "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."  nonadult false Ah, to be an elephant! text blog 76 0 0.0 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/service/displayKickPlace.kickAction?u=4218777&as=57566 http://media.kickstatic.com/kickapps/images/57566/photos/PHOTO_2332778_57566_4218777_ap_160X120.jpg false Australia NSW 0 0 400686 4218777 Member 0 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_An-embarrassment-of-riches/BLOG/165275/57566.html Sometimes I just can't escape the feeling that there are too many good things in my life.  The weight of this undeserved goodness seems to throw the world out of balance.  My life is heavy with blessings, while I see others empty and drained by a life of adversity.It doesn't seem fair that I have an abundance of food to choose from for each meal, while much of the world gets by on one meal a day.  It doesn't seem fair that I have a healthy body and a sound mind, while millions struggle with physical or intellectual difficulties.  It doesn't seem fair that I have a husband and family who love me, while many of my friends lack the love they are longing for.  It doesn't seem fair that I have been found by God, while multitudes live in ignorance of him.And so my conscience is pricked by this embarrassment of riches - this massive heap of undeserved blessings.  The things that should usually bring me joy sometimes weigh me down as I think about those who lack these things.  Material riches are easier to deal with.  They can be given away, shared, or managed wisely.  But I cannot share my health.  I might try, but I often cannot share my faith.  And I certainly cannot share my husband!  Somehow I need to learn to live with the weight of all this joy, without letting it become a reason for guilt.  I'm still working it out, but I suspect the answer might have something to do with having the right perspective.God does not seem to spread his blessings with an even hand.  Some seem to be lavished with good things while others go through far more than their fair share of hard times.  It all seems so messy and random.  The perfectionist in me sees the imbalance, and I wish I could even things up a little, spread out the blessings a little more fairly.  Yet who am I to question God's hand?  Perhaps he, seated far above my view of the world, places us just where he wants us to be, and pours into our lives exactly the right amounts of sweetness and bitterness, so that we can then be the good thing in someone else's life - bringing friendship, love or the news of Jesus. Sometimes I just can't escape the feeling that there are too many good things in my life.  The weight of this undeserved goodness seems to throw the world out of balance.  My life is heavy with blessings, while I see others empty and drained by a life of adversity.It doesn't seem fair that I have an abundance of food to choose from for each meal, while much of the world gets by on one meal a day.  It doesn't seem fair that I have a healthy body and a sound mind, while millions struggle with physical or intellectual difficulties.  It doesn't seem fair that I have a husband and family who love me, while many of my friends lack the love they are longing for.  It doesn't seem fair that I have been found by God, while multitudes live in ignorance of him.And so my conscience is pricked by this embarrassment of riches - this massive heap of undeserved blessings.  The things that should usually bring me joy sometimes weigh me down as I think about those who lack these things.  Material riches are easier to deal with.  They can be given away, shared, or managed wisely.  But I cannot share my health.  I might try, but I often cannot share my faith.  And I certainly cannot share my husband!  Somehow I need to learn to live with the weight of all this joy, without letting it become a reason for guilt.  I'm still working it out, but I suspect the answer might have something to do with having the right perspective.God does not seem to spread his blessings with an even hand.  Some seem to be lavished with good things while others go through far more than their fair share of hard times.  It all seems so messy and random.  The perfectionist in me sees the imbalance, and I wish I could even things up a little, spread out the blessings a little more fairly.  Yet who am I to question God's hand?  Perhaps he, seated far above my view of the world, places us just where he wants us to be, and pours into our lives exactly the right amounts of sweetness and bitterness, so that we can then be the good thing in someone else's life - bringing friendship, love or the news of Jesus. Sat, 17 Jan 2009 20:33:52 GMT http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_An-embarrassment-of-riches/BLOG/165275/57566.html rachael.reedake 2009-01-17T20:33:52Z Radiant magazine Sometimes I just can't escape the feeling that there are too many good things in my life.  The weight of this undeserved goodness seems to throw the world out of balance.  My life is heavy with blessings, while I see others empty and drained by a life of adversity.It doesn't seem fair that I have an abundance of food to choose from for each meal, while much of the world gets by on one meal a day.  It doesn't seem fair that I have a healthy body and a sound mind, while millions struggle with physical or intellectual difficulties.  It doesn't seem fair that I have a husband and family who love me, while many of my friends lack the love they are longing for.  It doesn't seem fair that I have been found by God, while multitudes live in ignorance of him.And so my conscience is pricked by this embarrassment of riches - this massive heap of undeserved blessings.  The things that should usually bring me joy sometimes weigh me down as I think about those who lack these things.  Material riches are easier to deal with.  They can be given away, shared, or managed wisely.  But I cannot share my health.  I might try, but I often cannot share my faith.  And I certainly cannot share my husband!  Somehow I need to learn to live with the weight of all this joy, without letting it become a reason for guilt.  I'm still working it out, but I suspect the answer might have something to do with having the right perspective.God does not seem to spread his blessings with an even hand.  Some seem to be lavished with good things while others go through far more than their fair share of hard times.  It all seems so messy and random.  The perfectionist in me sees the imbalance, and I wish I could even things up a little, spread out the blessings a little more fairly.  Yet who am I to question God's hand?  Perhaps he, seated far above my view of the world, places us just where he wants us to be, and pours into our lives exactly the right amounts of sweetness and bitterness, so that we can then be the good thing in someone else's life - bringing friendship, love or the news of Jesus. blessings, generosity, god nonadult false An embarrassment of riches text blog blessings,generosity,god 208 0 0.0 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/service/displayKickPlace.kickAction?u=4218777&as=57566 http://media.kickstatic.com/kickapps/images/57566/photos/PHOTO_2332778_57566_4218777_ap_160X120.jpg false Australia NSW 0 0 165275 4218777 Member 0 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_Eye-Contact/BLOG/156875/57566.html My husband says he loves the colour of my eyes.  But when we were first dating, to look him directly in the eyes for anything but the briefest moment was the hardest thing in the world.  He would challenge me to staring competitions.  I would always lose, breaking away in embarassed laughter after only a few seconds.There is something about direct eye contact which makes us retreat, perhaps even more so for us introverts.  We might hide things during a face-to-face conversation, but somehow our secret thoughts just spill out into the conversations that happen while driving down a highway, in a darkened tent on a camping trip, or even in online messaging.  Maybe we are a little like the child who thinks she can hide by covering her eyes with her hands - "If I can't see you, you must not be able to see me."  It seems we feel a little safer when the people we are talking to can't see the fear marked on our faces, or the tears in our eyes.Our Lord wins hands down at staring competitions.  Psalm 121 tells us that, "he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep... he will watch over your life: the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore."  His eyes are always on us.  He overwhelms us with his attention.It was a journey of love and trust as I learnt to match my then future-husband in staring competitions, and then learnt to look him in the eye as I started to share the deepest parts of my heart with him.  Our Lord, like my husband, watches us patiently and waits for us to return his constant gaze.  As we learn to look at him with open hearts, we find there is no fear in being seen.  He looks at us in love, and as we gaze upon his beauty, perhaps he finds delight in the particular colour of our eyes.Psalm 27:1,4 1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—        whom shall I fear?        The LORD is the stronghold of my life—        of whom shall I be afraid? 4 One thing I ask of the LORD,        this is what I seek:        that I may dwell in the house of the LORD        all the days of my life,        to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD        and to seek him in his temple. My husband says he loves the colour of my eyes.  But when we were first dating, to look him directly in the eyes for anything but the briefest moment was the hardest thing in the world.  He would challenge me to staring competitions.  I would always lose, breaking away in embarassed laughter after only a few seconds.There is something about direct eye contact which makes us retreat, perhaps even more so for us introverts.  We might hide things during a face-to-face conversation, but somehow our secret thoughts just spill out into the conversations that happen while driving down a highway, in a darkened tent on a camping trip, or even in online messaging.  Maybe we are a little like the child who thinks she can hide by covering her eyes with her hands - "If I can't see you, you must not be able to see me."  It seems we feel a little safer when the people we are talking to can't see the fear marked on our faces, or the tears in our eyes.Our Lord wins hands down at staring competitions.  Psalm 121 tells us that, "he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep... he will watch over your life: the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore."  His eyes are always on us.  He overwhelms us with his attention.It was a journey of love and trust as I learnt to match my then future-husband in staring competitions, and then learnt to look him in the eye as I started to share the deepest parts of my heart with him.  Our Lord, like my husband, watches us patiently and waits for us to return his constant gaze.  As we learn to look at him with open hearts, we find there is no fear in being seen.  He looks at us in love, and as we gaze upon his beauty, perhaps he finds delight in the particular colour of our eyes.Psalm 27:1,4 1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—        whom shall I fear?        The LORD is the stronghold of my life—        of whom shall I be afraid? 4 One thing I ask of the LORD,        this is what I seek:        that I may dwell in the house of the LORD        all the days of my life,        to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD        and to seek him in his temple. Fri, 02 Jan 2009 02:39:42 GMT http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_Eye-Contact/BLOG/156875/57566.html rachael.reedake 2009-01-02T02:39:42Z Radiant magazine My husband says he loves the colour of my eyes.  But when we were first dating, to look him directly in the eyes for anything but the briefest moment was the hardest thing in the world.  He would challenge me to staring competitions.  I would always lose, breaking away in embarassed laughter after only a few seconds.There is something about direct eye contact which makes us retreat, perhaps even more so for us introverts.  We might hide things during a face-to-face conversation, but somehow our secret thoughts just spill out into the conversations that happen while driving down a highway, in a darkened tent on a camping trip, or even in online messaging.  Maybe we are a little like the child who thinks she can hide by covering her eyes with her hands - "If I can't see you, you must not be able to see me."  It seems we feel a little safer when the people we are talking to can't see the fear marked on our faces, or the tears in our eyes.Our Lord wins hands down at staring competitions.  Psalm 121 tells us that, "he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep... he will watch over your life: the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore."  His eyes are always on us.  He overwhelms us with his attention.It was a journey of love and trust as I learnt to match my then future-husband in staring competitions, and then learnt to look him in the eye as I started to share the deepest parts of my heart with him.  Our Lord, like my husband, watches us patiently and waits for us to return his constant gaze.  As we learn to look at him with open hearts, we find there is no fear in being seen.  He looks at us in love, and as we gaze upon his beauty, perhaps he finds delight in the particular colour of our eyes.Psalm 27:1,4 1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—        whom shall I fear?        The LORD is the stronghold of my life—        of whom shall I be afraid? 4 One thing I ask of the LORD,        this is what I seek:        that I may dwell in the house of the LORD        all the days of my life,        to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD        and to seek him in his temple. god, intimacy, love nonadult false Eye Contact text blog god,intimacy,love 373 2 4.5 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/service/displayKickPlace.kickAction?u=4218777&as=57566 http://media.kickstatic.com/kickapps/images/57566/photos/PHOTO_2332778_57566_4218777_ap_160X120.jpg false 0 0 156875 4218777 Member 0 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_Learning-to-write-one-breath-of-inspiration-at-a-time/BLOG/155645/57566.html I think I am meant to write things.  I love to capture truth and beauty in words and phrases.  I find few things more satisfying than crafting a sentence and to sit back and enjoy the wonderful feeling that comes from knowing you have got the words just right.  But I don't write stories, or poems, or weighty theological papers.  Well, not at the moment anyway.  It seems that all my hand turns to during the infrequent times when I sit down to write are the fragments of ideas which God occasionally gives me.  Every now and then, it feels like God drops a phrase or an image into my lap, as if to say, "Take this - hold it up to the sunlight and examine it from every angle."  And sometimes I take the time to pick up the idea, and I write about it, trying to get the words just right, and it feels like I am delighting together with God at things like the way the world works, and the way people love each other, and how wonderful He is.  But sometimes I'm caught up in the busyness of other things, and I lose this habit of writing.  And it seems that once I lose this habit, God doesn't take the time to drop such phrases or images into my lap anymore.  It seems that God waits until I have the time and space and inclination towards writing before he provides these little fragments of inspiration.Lately I have been thinking about spiritual disciplines.  I like the way that John Ortberg puts it - that as we engage in spiritual practices, like prayer, meditation on God's word or perhaps even taking the time to write, we are like sailors putting up the sail on the boat in order to catch the wind.  When we are active in doing these things, the way is open for God, in his grace, to come and meet with us.  Of course, God, in his awesome power, is able to move us even if we don't "put up our sails" for Him.   But I wonder if I become more disciplined with taking the time to sit down and write, even if I don't particularly have the inspiration, whether I might start to notice more of the gentle wind of God's spirit directing me towards the things he might like me to write about.I have heard it said that to write and to not share it with anyone is nothing more than self-indulgence.  Therefore, the challenge is not only to be disciplined about taking time to engage in writing, but also to be disciplined about letting others read what I write and to take what they can from it.  To let others read something of your heart is difficult, but I know that words are powerful - to encourage, to teach and to inspire.  And so I will write, and I will share.  The steps may be slow and faltering at first - only small fragments rather than literary masterpieces.  But perhaps even the fragments of ideas, when given attention and written down, could bring glory to the one who is the master story-teller. I think I am meant to write things.  I love to capture truth and beauty in words and phrases.  I find few things more satisfying than crafting a sentence and to sit back and enjoy the wonderful feeling that comes from knowing you have got the words just right.  But I don't write stories, or poems, or weighty theological papers.  Well, not at the moment anyway.  It seems that all my hand turns to during the infrequent times when I sit down to write are the fragments of ideas which God occasionally gives me.  Every now and then, it feels like God drops a phrase or an image into my lap, as if to say, "Take this - hold it up to the sunlight and examine it from every angle."  And sometimes I take the time to pick up the idea, and I write about it, trying to get the words just right, and it feels like I am delighting together with God at things like the way the world works, and the way people love each other, and how wonderful He is.  But sometimes I'm caught up in the busyness of other things, and I lose this habit of writing.  And it seems that once I lose this habit, God doesn't take the time to drop such phrases or images into my lap anymore.  It seems that God waits until I have the time and space and inclination towards writing before he provides these little fragments of inspiration.Lately I have been thinking about spiritual disciplines.  I like the way that John Ortberg puts it - that as we engage in spiritual practices, like prayer, meditation on God's word or perhaps even taking the time to write, we are like sailors putting up the sail on the boat in order to catch the wind.  When we are active in doing these things, the way is open for God, in his grace, to come and meet with us.  Of course, God, in his awesome power, is able to move us even if we don't "put up our sails" for Him.   But I wonder if I become more disciplined with taking the time to sit down and write, even if I don't particularly have the inspiration, whether I might start to notice more of the gentle wind of God's spirit directing me towards the things he might like me to write about.I have heard it said that to write and to not share it with anyone is nothing more than self-indulgence.  Therefore, the challenge is not only to be disciplined about taking time to engage in writing, but also to be disciplined about letting others read what I write and to take what they can from it.  To let others read something of your heart is difficult, but I know that words are powerful - to encourage, to teach and to inspire.  And so I will write, and I will share.  The steps may be slow and faltering at first - only small fragments rather than literary masterpieces.  But perhaps even the fragments of ideas, when given attention and written down, could bring glory to the one who is the master story-teller. Sun, 28 Dec 2008 21:38:22 GMT http://community.radiantmagazine.com/_Learning-to-write-one-breath-of-inspiration-at-a-time/BLOG/155645/57566.html rachael.reedake 2008-12-28T21:38:22Z Radiant magazine I think I am meant to write things.  I love to capture truth and beauty in words and phrases.  I find few things more satisfying than crafting a sentence and to sit back and enjoy the wonderful feeling that comes from knowing you have got the words just right.  But I don't write stories, or poems, or weighty theological papers.  Well, not at the moment anyway.  It seems that all my hand turns to during the infrequent times when I sit down to write are the fragments of ideas which God occasionally gives me.  Every now and then, it feels like God drops a phrase or an image into my lap, as if to say, "Take this - hold it up to the sunlight and examine it from every angle."  And sometimes I take the time to pick up the idea, and I write about it, trying to get the words just right, and it feels like I am delighting together with God at things like the way the world works, and the way people love each other, and how wonderful He is.  But sometimes I'm caught up in the busyness of other things, and I lose this habit of writing.  And it seems that once I lose this habit, God doesn't take the time to drop such phrases or images into my lap anymore.  It seems that God waits until I have the time and space and inclination towards writing before he provides these little fragments of inspiration.Lately I have been thinking about spiritual disciplines.  I like the way that John Ortberg puts it - that as we engage in spiritual practices, like prayer, meditation on God's word or perhaps even taking the time to write, we are like sailors putting up the sail on the boat in order to catch the wind.  When we are active in doing these things, the way is open for God, in his grace, to come and meet with us.  Of course, God, in his awesome power, is able to move us even if we don't "put up our sails" for Him.   But I wonder if I become more disciplined with taking the time to sit down and write, even if I don't particularly have the inspiration, whether I might start to notice more of the gentle wind of God's spirit directing me towards the things he might like me to write about.I have heard it said that to write and to not share it with anyone is nothing more than self-indulgence.  Therefore, the challenge is not only to be disciplined about taking time to engage in writing, but also to be disciplined about letting others read what I write and to take what they can from it.  To let others read something of your heart is difficult, but I know that words are powerful - to encourage, to teach and to inspire.  And so I will write, and I will share.  The steps may be slow and faltering at first - only small fragments rather than literary masterpieces.  But perhaps even the fragments of ideas, when given attention and written down, could bring glory to the one who is the master story-teller. discipline, spiritual, writing nonadult false Learning to write: one breath of inspiration at a time text blog discipline,spiritual,writing 165 2 4.5 http://community.radiantmagazine.com/service/displayKickPlace.kickAction?u=4218777&as=57566 http://media.kickstatic.com/kickapps/images/57566/photos/PHOTO_2332778_57566_4218777_ap_160X120.jpg false 2 0 155645 4218777 Member 0