Good morning…
Today, I could write about football, yesterday’s rainy day off school, or our daughter’s safe return from Australia with her tattered, three-wheeled suitcase. This morning, I could write about our finicky coffee pot, this week’s beginning of our new class semester, or the strengthening pull of God’s call upon my life. Right now, I could write about grief, aging bodies, family and friends, or the grief accompanying the aging of our bodies and our loved ones.
From the plethora of possibilities, I choose to write about a quote growing like a seed since it was planted in my heart: “These are the only genuine ideas, the ideas of the shipwrecked. All the rest is rhetoric, posturing, farce.” – Jose Ortega y Gasset
Shipwrecked. To suffer shipwreck, ruin, or destruction. Hurt, helpless, harassed. Swamped, smashed, slaughtered. Overrun, overwhelmed, overpowered. Our hopes, shipwrecked. Our faith, shipwrecked. Our lives, shipwrecked. The ideas born from our shipwrecked experiences are the only genuine ideas.
This is my hope each and every morning: As God ministers to me, writing shipwrecked, I pray that any genuine ideas will lead you back to the God who ministers to all who feel shipwrecked.
Then Jesus made a circuit of all the towns and villages. He taught in their meeting places, reported kingdom news, and healed their diseased bodies, healed their bruised and hurt lives. When he looked out over the crowds, his heart broke. So confused and aimless they were, like sheep with no shepherd. “What a huge harvest!” he said to his disciples. “How few workers! On your knees and pray for harvest hands!” (Matthew 9:35-38, MSG).
…Sue…
