3 My soul yearns and pines for the courts of the LORD. My heart and flesh cry out for the living God.
Suzanne DeWitt Hall's blog highlighting the idea of a theology of desire, featuring the writing of great minds along with her own humble efforts at exploring the hunger for God. (Note: Most of this blog was written under Suzanne's nom de couer "Eva Korban David".)
Friday, May 16, 2008
Psalm 84
3 My soul yearns and pines for the courts of the LORD. My heart and flesh cry out for the living God.
St. Augustine on Restless Hearts
"You awaken us to delight in your praise; for you made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you."
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Psalm 130
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
C.S. Lewis: Made for Another World
Aldous Huxley on Desire as Potential Obstacle
--Aldous Huxley
Chesterton on Brothel Doors
Old Poetry Surfaces
Monday, May 12, 2008
Chesterton on Valleys
Sunday, May 11, 2008
C.S. Lewis on Longing
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Samuel Smiles on Anticipation
Nelson Mandela on the Journey
Friday, May 9, 2008
Kahlil Gibran on Vision and Desire
William Blake on Desire
Thursday, May 8, 2008
St. Augustine Commentary on 1John
From the Tractates on the first letter of John by Saint Augustine:“The entire life of a good Christian is in fact an exercise of holy desire. You do not yet see what you long for, but the very act of desiring prepares you, so that when he comes you may see and be utterly satisfied. Suppose you are going to fill some holder or container, and you know you will be given a large amount. Then you set about stretching your sack or wineskin or whatever it is. Why? Because you know the quantity you will have to put in it and your eyes tell you there is not enough room. By stretching it, therefore, you increase the capacity of the sack, and this is how God deals with us. Simply by making us wait he increases our desire, which in turn enlarges the capacity of our soul, making it able to receive what is to be given to us.”
May 30 Note: I just saw this quote cited as being from St. Augustine as well. Guess I'd better do more digging!
Augustine to Proba on Prayer and Desire
From a letter to Proba by Saint Augustine, bishop (Ep. 130, 8. 15. 17—9, 18: CSEL 44, 56–57. 59–60)Office of Readings for Sunday in the Twentyninth Week of the Year.
So that we might obtain this life of happiness, he who is true life itself taught us to pray, not in many words as though speaking longer could gain us a hearing. After all, we pray to one who, as the Lord himself tells us, knows what we need before we ask for it.
Why he should ask us to pray, when he knows what we need before we ask him, may perplex us if we do not realize that our Lord and God does not want to know what we want (for he cannot fail to know it) but wants us rather to exercise our desire through our prayers, so that we may be able to receive what he is preparing to give us. His gift is very great indeed, but our capacity is too small and limited to receive it. That is why we are told: Enlarge your desires, do not bear the yoke with unbelievers.
The deeper our faith, the stronger our hope, the greater our desire, the larger will be our capacity to receive that gift, which is very great indeed. No eye has seen it; it has no color. No ear
has heard it; it has no sound. It has not entered man’s heart; man’s heart must enter into it.
In this faith, hope and love we pray always with unwearied desire. However, at set times and seasons we also pray to God in words, so that by these signs we may instruct ourselves and
mark the progress we have made in our desire, and spur ourselves on to deepen it. The more fervent the desire, the more worthy will be its fruit. When the Apostle tells us: Pray without
ceasing, he means this: Desire unceasingly that life of happiness which is nothing if not eternal, and ask it of him who alone is able to give it.
CS Lewis on Desire
...Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
Lack of Holy Desire
-- A. W. Tozer
St. Anselm Proslogion, Chapter 1
Encouraging the Mind to Contemplate GodCome on now little man, get away from your worldly occupations for a while, escape from your tumultuous thoughts. Lay aside your burdensome cares and put off your laborious exertions. Give yourself over to God for a little while, and rest for a while in Him. Enter into the cell of your mind, shut out everything except God and whatever helps you to seek Him once the door is shut. Speak now, my heart, and say to God, "I seek your face; your face, Lord, I seek."
Come on then, my Lord God, teach my heart where and how to seek you, where and how to find you. Lord, if you are not here, where shall I find you? If, however, you are everywhere, why do I not see you here? But certainly you dwell in inaccessible light. And where is that inaccessible light? Or how do I reach it? Or who will lead me to it and into it, so that I can see you in it? And then by what signs, under what face shall I seek you? I have never seen you, my Lord God, or known your face. What shall I do, Highest Lord, what shall this exile do, banished far from you as he is? What should your servant do, desperate as he is for your love yet cast away from your face? He longs to see you, and yet your face is too far away from him. He wants to come to you, and yet your dwelling place is unreachable. He yearns to discover you, and he does not know where you are. He craves to seek you, and does not know how to recognize you. Lord, you are my Lord and my God, and I have never seen you. You have made me and nurtured me, given me every good thing I have ever received, and I still do not know you. I was created for the purpose of seeing you, and I still have not done the thing I was made to do.
Oh, how miserable man's lot is when he has lost what he was made for! Oh how hard and dire was that downfall! Alas, what did he lose and what did he find? What was taken away and what remains? He has lost beatitude for which he was made, and he has found misery for which he was not made. That without which he cannot be happy has been taken away, and that remains which in itself can only make him miserable. Back then man ate the bread of angels for which he now hungers, and now he eats the bread of griefs which he did not even know back then. Alas for the common grief of man, the universal lamentation of Adam's sons! He belched in his satiety, while we sigh in our want. He was rich, we are beggars. He happily possessed and miserably abandoned, we unhappily lack and miserably desire, yet alas, we remain empty. Why, since it would have been easy for him, did he not keep what we so disastrously lack? Why did he deprive us of light, and cover us with darkness instead? Why did he take life away from us and inflict death instead? From what have we poor wretches been expelled, and toward what are we being driven? From what have we been cast down, in what buried? From our fatherland into exile, from the vision of God into blindness. From the happiness of immortality into the bitterness and horror of death. What a miserable transformation! From so much good into so much evil! A heavy injury, a heavy, heavy grief.I have come to you as a poor man to a rich one, as a poor rich to a merciful giver. May I not return empty and rejected! And if "I sigh before I eat" (Job 3:4), once I have sighed give me something to eat. Lord, turned in (incurvatus) as I am I can only look down, so raise me up so that I can look up. "My iniquities heaped on my head" cover me over and weigh me down "like a heavy load" (Ps. 37:5). Dig me out and set me free before "the pit" created by them "shuts its jaws over me" (Ps. 67:16).Let me see your light, even if I see it from afar or from the depths. Teach me to seek you, and reveal yourself to this seeker. For I cannot seek you unless you teach me how, nor can I find you unless you show yourself to me. Let me seek you in desiring you, and desire you in seeking you. Let me find you in loving you and love you in finding you.
I acknowledge, Lord, and I give thanks that you have created in me this your image, so that I can remember you, think about you and love you. But it is so worn away by sins, so smudged over by the smoke of sins, that it cannot do what it was created to do unless you renew and reform it. I do not even try, Lord, to rise up to your heights, because my intellect does not measure up to that task; but I do want to understand in some small measure your truth, which my heart believes in and loved. Nor do I seek to understand so that I can believe, but rather I believe so that I can understand. For I believe this too, that "unless I believe I shall not understand" (Isa. 7:9).Poetry: Scent of a Shepherd

From the nightmare I wake
in pain and motion.
The world passes by upside down
an undulating sea of blue sky.
My contorted body screams
unused to the position
and broken bones.
My hair swings low
swaying with every step
blocking the sight of his sandaled feet.
His stride is long and even
shoulders miraculously broad;
my weight unequal to the cross.
My arms hang loose as I wonder;
should I hang on?
Does it hurt?
Do his stretching arms
remind him of the wood?
Does he thirst?
Wrapped as a collar round his muscled neck
borne like a yoke neither easy nor light.
Bitter streams of tears flow over my brow.
I should be in the dust before him
wiping his feet with my grief-soaked hair.
Instead, he carries me.
From the precipice he rescues me.
As I lunge for the edge
he draws me back.
To stop my fighting
he breaks my legs.
Despite my cries he lifts me
drapes me
carries me.
I breathe the scent of him
of sheep and wood
of blood and wine
of bread and man
of sun and moon and stars
of eternity
of home.
His cadence soothes.
The sweat of his exertion sweet
as opium; intoxicating.
My sobs relent.
I turn my ear to his chest
full of his scent
and listen to the drumbeat of dawn’s creation
the thrumming of the universe;
God’s heart beating against my cheek.
And I rest.
May 2008