...and the greatest of these is love.

O Perfect Love by Dorothy F. Gurney, 1885
Melody - "Caritas perfecta", Frederick C. Atkinson, 1885

O perfect Love, all human thought transcending,
Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne
That theirs may be the love which knows no ending,
Whom Thou forevermore dost join in one.

O perfect Life, be Thou their full assurance
Of tender charity and steadfast faith,
Of patient hope and quiet, brave endurance,
With childlike trust that fears nor pain nor death.

Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow;
Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife
And to life's day the glorious unknown morrow
That dawns upon eternal love and life.

Charity: the Divine Love (excerpts from The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis)

“But Divine Gift-love –Love himself working in a man – is wholly disinterested, desiring what is simply the best for the Beloved. … But Divine Gift-love in a man enables him to love what is naturally not loveable. … That such gift-love comes by grace and should be called charity, everyone will agree.”

The aforementioned are just some thoughts on love that I came across today. I'm always amazed at the vast perspective I gain when I stop and consider the different types of love that are prevalent in the various types of relationships between humans. I'm even more amazed at the type of love and relationship that can exist between divine and human. This has me wondering what the world would look like if we all stopped to think about love in its many contexts. How would things be different--or would they only be more confusing?

Don't Stop Believin'

"Sweet Silver Lining" --Kate Voegele

I’m going home down hearted and hoping
I’m close to some new beginning
I know there’s a reason for everything
That comes and goes

But so many people are looking to me
To be strong and to fight
But I’m just surviving
And I may be weak but I’m never defeated
And I’ll keep believing in clouds with that sweet silver lining

Most days I try my best
To put on a brave face
But inside my bones are cold
And my heart breaks
But all the while something’s keeping me safe
And alive

But so many people are looking to me
To be strong and to fight
But I’m just surviving
And I may be weak but I’m never defeated
And I’ll keep believing in clouds with that sweet silver lining

And I won’t give up like this
I will be given strength
Now that I’ve found it
Nothing can take that away

So many people are looking to me
To be strong and to fight
But I’m just surviving
And I may be weak but I’m never defeated
And I’ll keep believing

So many people are looking to me
To be strong and to fight
But I’m just surviving
And maybe weak but I’m never defeated
And I’ll keep believing in clouds with that sweet silver lining

I heard this song recently and instantly fell in love--not only for the melodic phrases of music, but for the equally compelling lyrics. What a reminder of the gift of grace that we receive each day. Weak, but never defeated, we don't have a choice but to keep believing and trusting that there is always something infinitely greater than ourselves. What a testament to our innate inadequacies and our internal need to submit to that which is greater. Enjoy!

Memorial Day Nostalgia

On Memorial Day, one typically finds crowded pool areas, the delightful aromas of hotdogs and hamburgers sizzling on the grill, and the sounds of friends and families laughing during annual gatherings. We get so caught up in the ritualistic norms of this "just another holiday" that we often forget the real meaning of Memorial Day and why we celebrate. Now, one cannot throw stones when he, himself lives in a glass house, and I myself would be the first to duck in my glass house, because I too had forgotten just how significant this day really is. For all who serve, who have served, and who have paid the ultimate price for our country, we are grateful. In our most sincere hearts, we are grateful for your service. We must never forget that freedom is not free.

The thoughts surrounding Memorial Day and the aforementioned rituals associated with it had me thinking today. We often wonder about the significance of our memories. Why do we remember certain memories in distinct detail, but manage to disregard others as if they were merely a speck of dust in the wind? Also of frequent thought are the aesthetic feelings we seem to garner in respect to these memories. On this particular Memorial Day, I encountered several memories from holidays past. A list of traditional Memorial Day festivities would include some, if not all, of the following:

-Cookouts with friends and family
-Pool parties
-Picnics in the park
-Walks
-Fireworks
-Delicious Deserts

To spare our egos a little dignity, Becky and I decided, that since we weren't surrounded by a huge social network, that we would, like all other Americans, try to relive some of those "Memorial Day traditions" properly. So we started our day. We took a scenic hike through some trails near our apartment, had some "Memorial Day" watermelon, sat outside on the patio of 5 Guys and enjoyed two delicious burgers, and ended the night with a little ice cream from Dairy Queen. Did I mention, we went caterpillar catching? It's true. Becky needed some caterpillars for an activity she will be doing with her kids for the Summer Camp she is heading up this week, so we decided we would brave the humidity and go hunting. We were hardly successful, but something about the return of our childlike curiosity and innocence struck a deep chord within me. How beautiful were the moments when the spotting of a caterpillar was unlike anything ever experienced--and how refreshing the memories of Memorial Days passed and the nostalgia of the games, food, and laughter seen through the eyes of a child. It suddenly became clear why memories, in their most organic form, are so significant--why memories, having already been lived and now arbitrary, leave imprints of warmth and gratitude in our hearts.

As children, we are born with a natural curiosity and insatiable thirst for life and the unknown. As children, our naive sense of wonder and love for the simple things in life are admirable qualities. Such a state of mind is sure to be remembered with fondness when one reflects on the experiences of childhood and the joy that they bring. Consequently, such a naive outlook, in the years of adulthood, are almost looked upon as taboo. One who is naive surely doesn't have a worldview, the political pundits or elitist thinkers might say. However, it is this childlike innocence, perhaps instilled within our very nature, even into adulthood, that brings us back to our most fundamental self. The self that loves life, craves uncertainty, and enjoys every moment--strictly for what that moment is. Suddenly, it was clear, as I watched Becky sadly look up without any caterpillars, what today's young adult generation (myself included) is missing. Perhaps, the memories of our childhood (all worthy of warm nostalgia) should not be one's main source of joy and peace--one's source of evidence that "life used to be easy" or that "those were the days when life made sense."

The past is just that. It has passed. We are not promised tomorrow. In fact, just as sure as I am that I am breathing this very instant, I am certain that I am alive in this very moment. Because I am certain of my living in this exact very moment, the only rational response is to live the very moment of which I am sure is existing. The challenge to myself is to live according to what I am most certain--and what I am most certain of is the subsistence of God and His gift of not today, not tomorrow, but this very moment. It is only logical to live whole-heartedly, with utmost gratitude, and with a genuine spirit...now.

A Fresh Mess

I've always had an intrinsic desire to be a writer of some sorts--able to artistically craft words to vividly describe life's gifts--and sometimes lack thereof.  The more this desire has surfaced, the more I've reflected on why exactly I've always held such an interest in being able to document life and the implications its experiences behold.  For some, art is the most profound form of reflection and for others, there is music.  For some, the simplistic intricacies of silence brings to the forefront one's most internalized emotions.  For myself--it is the tumultuous conglomeration of all humanities--eloquent prose, music genius, and brilliant art--coupled with the knowledge (and perhaps even fear) of a living, sovereign God that bring harmony and purpose to an otherwise worldly, meaningless existence.  Making clear the framework around which one bases their thoughts, perceptions, reactions, feelings, and universal understanding is imperative in order to find insight, joy, perspective, and perhaps even a little irony in the most unpredictable, unexpected, and alluring experience, namely life, that united we all share. Hence, I give you my insights--insights that find their inspiration rooted in not only the beauty of art, music, and prose; but relationships, community, and experiences that enrich my perspective and enhance my quality of life each day. This is my life--a beautiful, ambiguous, and adventurous life.