This is a story about seeking after the holy; this is our story.
There was once a rabbi who had a son. Every day, the rabbi’s son would wander in the woods. At first, the rabbi didn’t mind but after a while, it began to concern him a bit. He sat his son down. “Son, I notice that each day you walk into the woods. I wonder – why do you go there?”
The son replied, “I go there to find God.”
Relieved, the rabbi exhaled and gently said, “Son, that is a very good thing. I am glad you are searching for God. But my dear child, don’t you know that God is the same everywhere?”
“Yes,” the boy answered. “But I am not.”
Very truly, I tell you, we, too, are not the same everywhere. Take a moment and remember yourself as a twelve-year old or if you are around that age, as a four-year old. What did you know about God, Christ, the Spirit? What was holy to you? Now relocate yourself to the present – are you the same as you were then? When I remember the phases, the waxing and waning, the wondering and wandering, I see an undeniable grace that washes over me with steadfast love. I can do nothing but give thanks to God for all the pieces of my faith that fit together in some magnificent, not yet fully seen picture. It seems the psalmists knew this thanksgiving, too when she wrote, In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! I try to count them – they are more than the sand; I come to the end – I am still with you.Read more....