“In our culture, if someone spoke about coldness of the heart, we would likely describe it as an emotional issue, and dismiss it or diminish it as merely unfortunate. If, on the other hand, we were to speak about something interfering with our acquisition of information, we would treat it as a crisis of first-order. We do not understand that the greatest crisis in our lives is found in our coldness of heart. Indeed, even our acquisition of information is distorted by coldness of the heart.” (Father Stephen Freeman)
“Note that he is not asking them their own opinion. Rather, he asks the opinion of the people. Why? In order to contrast the opinion of the people with the disciples answer to the question “But who do you say that I am?” In this way, by the manner of his inquiry, they might be drawn gradually to a more sublime notion and not fall into the same common view as that of the multitude.” St. John Chrysostom
And the multitude didn’t know. Yet, their answers weren’t completely against goodness. They compared Jesus to good men they knew, but they obviously didn’t know who Christ was. Rumors among the multitude fell short. I think about how similar our society is these days…everyone infusing their own opinion, their own idea of goodness. Allowing quick words to amplify the noise of opinions.
Just because a notion tied with God fits my perspective, or it sounds good, doesn’t mean it’s accurate. My assumption could be distracting me from the Truth of Who God is. I could be crafting my own little god and not worshipping the actual God of the Universe at all.
I need to know Him like the disciples knew Him, not the multitude who claims a variety of things in a relativistic culture. I must seek the “sublime notion” of the disciples, the men whom Jesus entrusted to build His Church in perfect timing. And it is in His Church that I can find the Truth.
I am amazed how, later in the passage, after Peter declares Who He truly is, Christ tells the disciples not to tell anyone. He knew the plan. The timeline. I suspect He cared more about their understanding in that moment than His reputation among the multitude. His Church would be built by the men who knew the Truth, not by those stuck in the fray of opinions, no matter how loud they were, or how certain.
**The Scripture image is from the Catena App. This is a great way to explore the early Church Fathers’ Biblical commentary**
“Christianity is a lifestyle – a way of being in the world that is simple, non-violent, shared, and loving. However, we made it into an established “religion” (and all that goes with that) and avoided the lifestyle change itself. One could be warlike, greedy, racist, selfish, and vain in most of Christian history, and still believe that Jesus is one’s “personal Lord and Savior” . . . The world has no time for such silliness anymore. The suffering on Earth is too great.”
“We call the elevation of the individual and selfish will to this paramount status “democracy,” but more and more it will come to resemble a berserk state, a self-deification through the collapse of concern for anything other than the self…Today our common political and social program is the self–a paradox that either will open a window to the Church or will be seen as the suicide pact of the human race. I mean, the fact that it is necessarily a common project can lead us to see that we exist in and through each other, in communion, or we can choose merely to make a temporary alliance with others in order to expedite each soul’s flight into gnostic aloneness and thus the abyss.” (Timothy G. Patitsas)
I am realizing what stirs anxiety in my stomach and creates a war in my heart. It’s the way opinions drive bad behavior. And not just others’, mine is first to be flamed.
I see redefinitions of the Fruit of the Spirit in justifying an allegiance to whatever seems most important to an individual (ah, the worship of individual is the greatest idolatry of our time). The edge of my faith is softening, becoming pliable, less reliable to stop me from slipping and falling into despair.
My bent toward justice is causing me to keel over at the witnessing of opinions motivating bad behavior…with the sickness of my own heart exposing my own decay.
How post-modern of our culture to elevate opinion to the very top of the moral framework, allowing what we think to manipulate what is acceptable, justifiable, and true.
But if the teaching of Christ is true, then we have lost our way. Thinking is nothing but vapor. Ideas are play toys of demons.
The edge of faith has caved in on itself and I wonder, is any true faith left?
These are the things I try to weed out of my heart. These are the reasons I have stepped away from social media. I see it, I’ve been there, and I despise myself for slipping in and out of these as if they are okay…ever…in the right setting…in the right place and time.
NEVER.
Lord have mercy.
“…if we believe Christ is Risen, we must forgive all by His Holy Resurrection, we must forgive all and be reconciled with all…And so, we embrace one another in our hearts, those near us and those afar off, we embrace them with the love of Christ. We no longer have enemies, only brothers and sisters with whom we share the joy of our Risen Lord.”
To love fiercely is a mama navigating the dark, early hours to comfort her newborn.
To love fiercely is trying what’s best for a little one, even when there is no guarantee and exhaustion has set deep.
To love fiercely is doing what’s best for a child even if it doesn’t offer comfort—for babe or mama.
To love fiercely is letting go of a child’s hand so they can grow beyond home, depart from a mama’s watch, even for a little while.
And the little while grows long and wide and is filled with all sorts of life and heartache and joy and others…and it’s good, even when it doesn’t seem so in the moment…but the love is fierce and unwavering.
To love fiercely is a mama following her child following his dreams and trying to not take the lead—no matter how much distance he’ll gain ahead of her.
To love fiercely is letting go.
When it’s time.
When they’ve grown.
When all the fierce loving has navigated and tried and managed and the effort’s proven well.
And then…
Loving fiercely is watching her child disappear, leaving behind man-size footprints etched toward the horizon, and trusting he’ll come home again.
In that ripened time of accomplishing all a mother can control beneath her roof, even so, the mama’s heart is wretched most of all— for yet another babe is ready to dive into uncharted waters (uncharted for the mama, at least)—and grief and pride and love abounds.
Yet, doubt arises.
She wonders if she’ll ever rid herself of the ache.
But she’ll never shake the habit to love fiercely.
Love cannot function without others. And from the very beginning—Love is fulfilled (for our witness) by His communion with humans.
There is no love in thinking and believing in doctrine or playing mental gymnastics. No love in knowing or imagining or waiting for heaven.
Love is in community. Love is a God who permeates throughout His creation, ever affecting it, ever inviting more and more humans to partake in His fullness.
Particularly, I have grown a deep reverence and unexplainable understanding of His Love in the example of the human He chose to be His mother.
Mother of God by the hand of Jan Isham
I’ll admit, it sounds kooky to my old self—the person who thought that God was in the thinking, the convincing, the solo whisper of I believe. The history of the Church was cool, but only relevant by its ideas and how much I could twist and justify and verify.
I have even heard—and have muttered, I confess—Who cares who God chose to inhabit for 9 months? He could have chosen anyone—He’s God.
Lord have mercy.
He chose only one.
If I am thrilled by my loved ones to choose God, imagine being the One woman chosen by Him to bring about the most pivotal story in history?
Not just anyone.
Mary’s actual upbringing and pre-Christian life is fascinating, a story worth knowing. She wasn’t just an ordinary teenager. And she wasn’t the wife of Joseph as we imagine a “wife” to be.
The early church knew her story because she lived and breathed beside the apostles from the very foot of the cross forward. And she was not just someone, according to Apostolic tradition.
In its fullness, there is beauty told of a woman so in love with her God that she was given the privilege to love His Son as His mother. And she was not just one of His followers, but she was His one and only mother. His one and only flesh and blood on earth. The flesh and blood of God.
Her motherhood overwhelms me.
I know the fierce love I have for my sons.
And Mary’s son is God.
God’s Love abounds—from the beginning until the very end. Not one person should be minimized—especially not the Mother of our God.
As we enter the Fast of the Dormition of the Theotokos (God-Bearer or Mother of God), I wanted to share this ancient supplication—preserved from the 3rd century:
Beneath your compassion, We take refuge, O Theotokos: do not despise our petitions in time of trouble; but rescue us from dangers, only pure, only blessed one.
I will forever be grateful to Father Stephen Freeman and his insights into my faith—learn more on this topic here
Once, I stood amid a crowd of people fighting for a cause—a broad, urgent need that was the main root of a whole network of thought and opinion, all growing inspiration for the same hope in change.
Yet, a tiny voice inside me urged, take care to not stray past north. And my north, my faith, doesn’t fit perfectly in the reactions of thought and opinion that grows from that fierce, passionate calling.
I could see some entanglements with weeds that could choke out the light. The bitterness, for one, coursing through the outcries of others, shook my internal compass
And a tiny voice said:
“Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice.”
Those guttural reactions were not for me, although I confess, I am not innocent from such behavior.
But in that moment, I knew, God is everywhere, and I was certain that He could handle the weeds. And I didn’t betray my calling by mirroring the unbecoming reactions, and I continued on in solidarity because I knew what was right and important.
As I look back on my participation that day, I realize that the deeper cause calling me was the greatest commandment of all—to love God and love others.
Christ’s example demands me to put people first, beyond principalities and social leanings. In spite of these flawed constructs and the naysayers.
And my faith is my guide in every encounter, and it tells me that love is above all of it.
So…
If I have the faith to move mountains and do not love, I am nothing. If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.”
And if I walk away from fighting for the least of us because of misconceptions, loose tongues, and human judgment, then I just can’t bear to think of the bitterness that will grow inside me.
Transfiguration of Our Lord Chapel in Sister Bay, WI
The little marker on the side of the road caught our eye because of the face of Christ staring from behind the leaves. We knew the little chapel existed, but there was no giant sign or paved parking lot. The simple visitors welcome, whispered to any passerby and invited them to an experience almost other-worldly.
Hardly, in this busy life, does a simple garden path dappled in sunlight seem the only place I want to be and sometimes, it’s the only place my heart desires, even before ever experiencing it, but I crave it and know I will not find it in my busyness.
My family and I journeyed the short distance from the humble marker, down a well-marked path, across a quaint bridge, and into a chapel with the people of God pictured all around. Lord-have-mercies chanted gently in our ears, and the familiar beeswax candles and bowls of sand beckoned us to light new flames that represent our own souls participating in the holy quiet.
I love the ways of the saints—their knowing eyes and honored stories. I love the sacred spaces that are so full of color and light and incense, reminding me that God made us to commune in all aspects of His Creation—in the life, the breath, and the matter.
And this sanctuary in the woods we stumbled upon from a busy vacation to light a candle and pray—this quiet place might just look like a human heart as it should be—connected to the body of Christ, bearing a light and a song. Remembering Who God is and how much He loves His people.
I am certain it is so.
What carved out space or piece of art has brought you to a sense of reflection?
I am breaking my social media habit. Grief has set in because I know I’ll miss out on my loved ones’ life updates and all the good things about that communal space. But, the breathings of my heart turn sour in the incessant scrolling past horrible things, and I know the only way out is to cut it off.
Yet, there is no life without sharing, because I do believe that community is important. And I want this space here–void of horrible things–to be a place to commune, to converse, and to continue my calling of crafting words to connect to others.
angie dicken 
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