ieroaima

[ieroaima]

God's [Wisdom] is said to have been present at, and infused into, all of Creation, inviting us to seek it out and live according to it. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” because it keeps us conscious of our creaturely status. It reminds us that the good life consists in conforming ourselves to an existing standard of excellence rather than in expressing and inventing ourselves on our own terms.

Grayson Quay

[ieroaima]

As soon as God separated to Himself a peculiar people [by binding Himself to them in Covenant love], He governed them by a written Word, as He has done ever since. [Both] God's covenants and commands are so just in themselves, and so much for our good, that the more we think of them, and the more plainly and fully they are set before us, the more reason we may see to comply with them. 

Matthew Henry

[ieroaima]

See in this bread the Body of Christ which hung upon the Cross, and in this cup the Blood which flowed from His side. The Body of Christ is the bond which unites you to Him: eat it, or you will have no part in Him. The Blood is the price He paid for your redemption: drink it, lest you despair of your sinfulness. Take His Body, then, and eat it; take His Blood and drink it, and you will become His members.

[ieroaima]

To the Gentiles, who did not hold themselves bound to observe Moses’s law; [I likewise acted] as without [Moses's] law [by] neglecting its ceremonies [as they did]; but [I remained] as much as ever obliged to obey [that same Law's] moral precepts; [since I am] not without [any] law to God—[indeed I am always] under the law to Christ. [I am in all circumstances] under an indispensable obligation in duty and gratitude to obey HIS will in ALL things, to imitate His example, and live to His glory: and in THIS sense ALL Christians will be "under the law" forever. 

Albert Benson elaborated commentary on 1 Corinthians 9:20

[ieroaima]

...Didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 MSG

[ieroaima]

It is a Hebraism to say that what ought to be is; and Christians accordingly are frequently called Saints, because they ought to be.

Cornelius a Lapide

[ieroaima]

Each of Paul’s letters seems to have an ethical high note. In his second letter to the Corinthians, it is generosity. In Ephesians, one could say it’s humility. And Galatians emphasizes the fruit produced by the Spirit life. In [his first letter to the Corinthians], Paul uncovers the beautiful ethical prize after which we are to run: love. [Chapter 13] expounds upon the virtues of loving both God and neighbor, as Christ commanded. According to Paul, love is more worthy than speaking eloquently “in the heavenly tongues of angels”, better than having “unending supernatural knowledge”, and far more important than giving away everything to the poor. As Paul says, “Love never stops loving”; it never fails... Love is the motivation of our lives.

Passion & Fire Ministries

[ieroaima]

One should not seek among others the truth that can be easily gotten from the Church. For in her, as in a rich treasury, the apostles have placed all that pertains to Truth, so that everyone can drink this beverage of life. She is the door of life.

Saint Irenaeus of Lyons

[ieroaima]

attributed to Randy Kalombo

[ieroaima]

The Proper Attitude of Man under Grace: To believe, and consent to be loved while unworthy, is the great secret. To refuse to make “resolutions” and “vows”; for that is to trust in the flesh. To expect to be blessed, though realizing more and more lack of worth. To testify of God’s goodness, at all times. To be certain of God’s future favor; yet to be ever more tender in conscience toward Him. To rely on God’s chastening hand as a mark of His kindness.

William R. Newell

[ieroaima]

Standing in grace means that: I don’t have to prove I am worthy of God’s love. God is my friend. The door of access is permanently open to Him. I am free from the “score sheet”– the account is settled in Jesus. I spend more time praising God and less time hating myself.

David Guzik

[ieroaima]

In this only does true conversion lie, in conversion to incandescent Love.

Fr. Lev Gillet, In Thy Presence

[ieroaima]

[ieroaima]

[We must] cherish hopes and desires after goodness, [for they are] the only hopes and desires that are certain to be fulfilled.

Alexander MacLaren

[ieroaima]

Whether pontiff or peon, the great question awaiting God’s judgment is the fruit that our lives have borne. Did we live for ourselves or for others? Did we make the world a better place or darken its future? This is “the work of the Lord” to which, St. Paul says, we must be devoted (1 Cor 15:58). Those are the questions to be asked, and none of us can answer them assuredly for ourselves. Until it dawns, how do we know if we have borne fruit for the kingdom? It is only in the presence of God that we know what mattered most about our lives on earth. The Scriptures tell us how we should live, but only God can inform us how indeed we did live. For the saints, one of the joys of heaven will be gazing upon the “whole,” the completed tapestry never seen during life. [But] how are we to be judged? It is not how long the lists of our sins might be, for sins can be forgiven. Christ quite solemnly tells us that sinners and prostitutes can storm heaven (Mt 21:31). Sins vanish before God, but failure to bear fruit remains. We lay down our sins when we cross into heaven, but we cannot fill our eternal baskets with fruits that were never planted, never cared for, never brought to harvest. Ironically, while salvation is not a question of grade point averages, there are what we might call degrees of heaven. The more we become like God while we live, the more of us there will be to receive God in eternal life. In the end, the question is one of identity. Have we become like God? Did our lives bring forth abundance? Life itself? Bearing fruit expands our humanity. It quite literally fits us for heaven. This is why God judges each of us by the fruit we have borne.

Rev. Terrance W. Klein

[ieroaima]

the resurrection

this original post was written on march 26th 2022, as we sat with our dying grandmother in a hospital emergency room. the post has inexplicably been deleted from our original blog. as a result we are reposting it here. (eternal rest grant unto our grandmother's soul. may she rest in peace.)

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"The Resurrection (La Resurrezione) is an 800-quintal (80-metric-ton) bronze/copper-alloy[1] sculpture by Pericle Fazzini in the Paul VI Audience Hall in Rome.[2][3] Intended to capture the anguish of 20th century mankind living under the threat of nuclear war,[1]La Resurrezione depicts Jesus rising from a nuclear crater in the Garden of Gethsemane."

You know what, I never understood why such a shocking sculpture was chosen for the Hall, but now-- looking with open heart, and reading that artist's note-- I get it.

Let me pour myself out here.

The Cross itself is "scandalous." It's inherently terrifying. Our most common representation of the God Who Loves Us is of His Son's destroyed and bleeding body nailed to a piece of ragged wood. It's horrific, really. But it's true. It's "foolish" and "insane" to those without faith-- and understandably so! God's Wisdom is incomprehensible to the proud human mind; it is "ridiculous" to those who boast of their intelligence and perspicacity. Why would God crucify His own Son? Better yet, why would God the Son choose to become a man, humble and lowly-- and as a man, choose TO be crucified? What's the point? Isn't it barbaric? Isn't it gruesome? Why would Love work through-- and suffer through-- blood and sweat and spit and gore?

Because Pride wouldn't.

Life itself chose to die so we wouldn't have to.

But Life cannot die. So what then? When Immortality clothes Himself in mortality, what happens to that mortal existence when it is stripped away? Immortality is naked and pure, unaffected by any coverings, but that "clothing" of human nature carries the scent and warmth and blood of God, now. So what happens to the humans who recognize that hidden change, that "wedding garment" set aside and waiting for them? They live, too. They strip off their dusty rags and wrap their souls in His reddened Robe, the Body of the Lamb, and they become sharers in eternity.

That transcendent truth is hidden at the heart of this shocking sculpture. It's meant to shock. It's meant to make you stop, and wonder, and tremble-- this is God, but it's not how we would imagine God to be; why this hideous sight? Why this macabre display?

Yet Christ is still untouched. Gilded and transcendent, He rises above the horror; He ascends out of the very mouth of the underworld-- unscathed, incorruptible, perfect, alive.

In my eyes, this is the fruit of that grisly image we Christians remember with honor. This is the harrowing of hell, perpetually so.

We live in a world increasingly dominated by death, and ruled by rancor. Our very souls are at war with God, and our rotten fruit virulently infects every citizen of the world-- we are entombed in selfishness, apathy, condemnation, violence, dishonesty, abuse, persecution, injustice, terrorism, hatred, want, greed, vanity, and impurity. We dwell in Gethsemane, betrayers all, we sinners who would kiss our Teacher but never hail Him as King. We spit upon the Cross and we crown Him with thorns, as we comfort ourselves with comfort and dress up as sparkling gods. We want nothing to do with His self-denial, we laugh; look at where it leads-- look at that corpse pinned to a tree! How is that God? How is that Love? There is nothing enjoyable or attractive there! There is only blood. There is only death, and useless sacrifice, a man dying for sins we did not commit! This we crow as we distract ourselves from the corpses also around our feet, from the stench of grave-rot even now mildewing our souls. We live in the Garden of Agony but we keep eating the forbidden fruit, proud of our "wisdom," forgetting that we shall die from it. Meanwhile the Lord of Light sobs in the dark and chooses to be murdered so He can save you. You don't ask for it. You wouldn't. But He does it anyway, because you still need it.

As bombs leave craters in the earth, so the explosions of sin destroy our hearts. So our offenses ruin each other. We don't even see the mushroom cloud; it's too far away. Perhaps those people deserve it. Perhaps it's better this way; it would've been worse if we didn't drop it. These are our excuses. We wash our hands and let Love be crucified. We turn our backs on the annihilation, unwilling to admit it exists, let alone that our actions-- or our total inaction-- is what ripped open the world like that. All we did was push a button, or let someone else do so; how could such a little thing be bad? We forget the butterflies and hurricanes. We walk away from the Cross.

The Garden is nuked. We have nothing to eat. We have nowhere to mourn. God is dead and we all have blood on our hands. Hell has come to earth, and we have nowhere to run.

Christ walks into the heart of the crater we made.

This is Love. This is the Cross. This is the Burial and the Resurrection. This is death, in all its red & raw reality, burning holes in our bones, undenied and yet completely powerless now that Life has met it in the very Garden it thought it devoured. The Tree of Life remains, incomprehensibly whole, ingrued now with the seeds of agony, yet blooming into fathomless sweetness. Christ is in the crater; He has endured the scorching heat and crushing force of hate, and despite all devastation He lives!! And He has opened the gates of Life for all of us beneath the bombs. We, too, have tasted His bitter Cross; therefore we, too, will join the Wedding feast with Him-- we lost and repentant sinners, now naked without our wealth and scared without our knowledge, living in the streets and begging for bread. He pulls us close to His pierced Heart, kisses our ashen lips, and carries us to His Home. He knows what we've done. He knows what we didn't do. He recognizes our hands as the ones that held the nails and scourges and silver and swords, our voices as the ones that mocked and condemned or mumbled or stopped, our faces as the ones that sneered or turned away or just glanced, unfeeling. We did not love Him. We did not want Him. We loved ourselves enough to satisfy; we had everything we desired. But the bombs fell, and we lost the world, and now death is lurking the back alleys and what now, we asked each other, shaking and weeping? What hope is there? Is there a God? Was He really God? If He died, then-- if we killed Him; if we let Him die, if we didn't even care-- what now?

We forget He chose to. We forget that He never forgot us-- until suddenly He is there, in the slums with us, the moment we remember and decide to go look for Him. Hope does not disappoint. He still lifts us from the debris and dries our tears.

"Do not worry, my child. It's easy to find Me," He says. "I am always on the Cross; you only need to meet me there."

See, Love does not run from death. Love does not ignore the suffering. Love knows it is inevitable. Love does not try to justify or diminish the reality of the horrors we face. Love does not shun responsibility either. Love sees how we all hurt and hurt each other, unable or unwilling to bandage our collective wounds, and Love immediately runs onto the battlefield with every salve and suture it can carry. Love does not pick sides; Love does not exclude or reject; Love does not hold grudges or biases or proud judgments. Love sees every soul as a part of itself, and cherishes it as such. Love is willing and able to willingly give its own life for the sake of those it loves. Love chooses to pick up that Cross and shoulders it with absolute ardor, bleeding all the way to death itself, even if you're the one who it belongs to-- even if you put it on His shoulders yourself-- because now you don't have to carry that Cross alone.

And it is no mere man Who carries your sorrows. It is God Himself.

Now, even though you will still die-- for all men eventually do, no matter how far and fast they may run-- now, you have the option to die with Him. With God.

So. If He dies with you, what then? If you admit that your name should be on that Cross instead, and surrender to the suffering life brings, what then, if He joins you in that choice, if you join Him in His?

Do you wonder, when you look at His face there, bruised beyond visual recognition? Do you wonder, when you hear His voice clogged with pain? Your own body is torn to pieces. How is this saving you? Why is He dying too? He is not coming down from the gibbet. Neither are you. All you can smell is blood.

But God smiles with broken teeth. "I am the Resurrection and the Life," He whispers to you over the air raid sirens. "Whoever believes in Me will never die, but will have eternal life. Do you believe this?"

What, then? Do you? Or are you still too frightened to have faith?

What if He told you He loves you?

There, on your own Cross, in your own death, ruined and wrecked, He loves you. He did not do this to you. Sin itself did-- yours, and all of humanity's, known and unknown-- its very touch is a death sentence, now nailed above your head in lurid letters, but He knew those words already and He speaks different ones, against all common sense and self-loathing and bitterness, and you cannot understand. He shoulders the weight with you, without your asking-- your pride would not let you. You don't understand how He loves you if you're up there, but... so is He, you must admit. Smiling, His eyes so sincere. He looks at you and for a moment you forget pain; you forget death. For a moment, you get it.

He loves you. Life Himself loves you.

Do you trust in that love? Do you trust in Him, dying with you?

Now, in your bleakest moments, you have a spark of hope. You are embraced in the infinite reach of His outstretched arms. You are seen, you are cared for, you are healed-- somehow, somehow, no matter the damage, your soul is preserved entire, clothed in dazzling light, and no man on earth can frighten you now--

This is love, you suddenly realize. How strange. How perfect.

O Death, where is your sting? It has been transmuted into song.

Through the Cross, God has claimed the very territory of death for Himself. In His awesome Wisdom and Power, He has vanquished every enemy by their own weapons; He has ultimately disarmed hell itself. Death has been nullified. Through the Cross, every tombstone now becomes a door, to soon be rolled away in joy.

Now, by His sharing in humanity's suffering, every soul seemingly trapped in misery now has a Way out of it, forever. That misshapen wreck of bronze, that mangled tree, those burned branches of our scarred and scalded arms reaching desperately to a heaven we cannot see-- Christ has come down to bind our broken hands, and with all tenderness, to lift us up with Him. We shall ascend from our anguish. We have hope beyond all hell.

We look to the Cross, in all its awful splendor, and we no longer run-- we embrace it. No matter what we must endure at human hands, Christ is in the crater with us.

[ieroaima]

When you are praying alone, and your spirit is dejected, and you are wearied and oppressed by your loneliness, remember then, as always, that God the Trinity looks upon you with eyes brighter than the sun; also all the angels, your own Guardian Angel, and all the Saints of God. Truly they do; for they are all one in God, and where God is, there are they also. Where the sun is, thither also are directed all its rays. Try to understand what this means.

St. John of Kronstadt

Galaxy - Centaurus