Am I moved? What is it that I want so badly that it makes my heart ache with longing and sorrow?
I took blessing at communion today and now I am struck sorrowful. I do not understand.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
A dream I had
As I lay half sick and half asleep in bed, I half pondered my thoughts on Christianity, and indeed Christ himself.
I half prayed in my drowsiness to God for answers to my many unanswerable questions.
Even as my eyes were closed, many images flashed before my mind. Images of cathedrals, crosses, then the face of Jesus, cowled in a hood, but looking down at me so that his face was plain.
This was not the Anglo-Saxon Jesus of western art, but a realistic, Middle-Eastern looking face.
There was an artistic quality to the image, but not one that I can readily associate with any piece of art that I have seen.
As I saw this image, a voice spoke to me. It was a very synthetic (or metallic, like speaking down a tunnel) voice but it spoke encouragingly to me. Even as I was drifting further towards sleep, I tried to focus on what it was saying. The only words I could discern were "...my dear...". The rest was garbled, and I thought at the time; "Is that Aramaic?" Then my years of doubt tumbled in and the image and the voice faded away. I was puzzled and saddened, but then I slept.
I half prayed in my drowsiness to God for answers to my many unanswerable questions.
Even as my eyes were closed, many images flashed before my mind. Images of cathedrals, crosses, then the face of Jesus, cowled in a hood, but looking down at me so that his face was plain.
This was not the Anglo-Saxon Jesus of western art, but a realistic, Middle-Eastern looking face.
There was an artistic quality to the image, but not one that I can readily associate with any piece of art that I have seen.
As I saw this image, a voice spoke to me. It was a very synthetic (or metallic, like speaking down a tunnel) voice but it spoke encouragingly to me. Even as I was drifting further towards sleep, I tried to focus on what it was saying. The only words I could discern were "...my dear...". The rest was garbled, and I thought at the time; "Is that Aramaic?" Then my years of doubt tumbled in and the image and the voice faded away. I was puzzled and saddened, but then I slept.
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