At this wonderfully rich site called Lift UpYour Hearts (now sadly discontinued), I came across this lovely story and another timely reminder to go slow and rest awhile in this crazy world. The author is Lawrence W. Denef.
I sometimes want God to zoom across this world and transform it in a blinding flash but having experienced the slow Advent pace, Christmas and now the approaching Epiphany, Christ's style of ministry tells me that is not His way.
So the story .....
"A while ago I was in Tokyo for a Lutheran World Federation conference on
"Mission in the City." The crowds in the streets, at the airports, on the
subways, were like those in Ottawa on the first of July. One was literally
shoved into and out of buses and buildings. Often we were able to see only
the blur of persons in motions; we saw no faces.
In his opening remarks, the keynote speaker at the conference, a Japanese
theologian, asked us to reflect on the speed at which we are living.
"The
context in which most persons live is fast-moving urban life, with its
noise, its hustle and bustle, its dominant impersonal relationships," he
noted.
"People no longer see one another with faces, but as numbers and
replaceable units in productive processes and systems."
After a pause, he
contrasted our speed with God's pace. "Our God," he said, "is a
three-mile-an-hour God."
Leicester Square 11pm from a Series
by Oona Hassim here
That is the speed at which humans walk. That is
the speed at which Jesus wended his way through Galilee -- touching the
ill, chatting with widows, pausing in marketplaces to observe children at
play, plucking grain in the fields on a sabbath day.
"The sabbath was made
for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath," he said. "Whoever does
not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it," he
said. "Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,'
or to say, 'Stand up and take your mat and walk'?" he said.
We were created in the image of a three-mile-an-hour God, and we have been
called to be partners in ministry with a three-mile-an-hour God.
There will
be no growth among us unless we stop running: no increase in understanding,
no growth in faith, no sight for the blind, no help for the poor, no
compassion for the outcast (and, for that matter, no increase in the
numbers of the faithful) -- unless we stop running.
This world on the run needs people who are moving slowly enough to weep
with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice;
people who are
moving slowly enough to notice smiles of joy and tears of sorrow;
people
who are moving slowly enough to reach out to those in pain, to comfort
those in suffering, to offer hope to those in despair.
A rabbi asked his students: "When will we know that in God's providence
darkness has turned to day?"
"When at a great distance you can tell the difference between a date palm
and a fig tree?" replied one.
"No," responded the rabbi.
"When at a great distance you can tell the difference between a sheep and
a goat?" replied another.
"No," responded the rabbi.
"Day will have dawned when you look into the eyes of another person and
recognize there your brother or your sister."
"You are the salt of the earth . . . the light of the world," said Jesus.
You and I have inherited all of the past and are beginning points for all
of the future.
You and I have been empowered to unmask the illusion of
living by doing, of serving by running, and to rekindle in human hearts the
life-giving image of a three-mile-an-hour God.
When will we know that darkness has turned to day?
When, beyond the blur of persons in motion, we begin to see each other's faces.
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