Tag Archives: solitude

To Preach

by Howard Hain

 

Saint Bruno, Houdon

Saint Bruno (c. 1033-1101), Founder of the Carthusians, Statue by Jean-Antoine Houdon (1767)

 

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“It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority…”

—Acts 1:7


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If the Lord returns this very second, well then, are not “…the ends of the earth” where we currently stand?

May we pray for the mercy and grace that we ourselves be truly converted to Christ, for if all the world were to focus on that, then all the world would be set “on fire”.

To truly “preach” the Gospel is to be truly transfigured. For it is the power of His glory, in us, around us, despite us, that brings others to Christ.

A single man standing absolutely still—but who has Christ truly within him—brings more healing and peace to all the world than an army of men continually running around the globe glorifying themselves in His Most Sacred Name.

For redemption is always by His power, for His glory, and within His Kingdom. It is HIS Church.

May we approach Him in our absolute nothingness, for that is all we truly possess.

Men come and go, keep your eyes on Christ.

The world turns, the Cross stands still.


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Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

Follow Howard on Twitter @HowardDHain   http://www.twitter.com/HowardDHain

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Friday Thoughts: Pure Faith

by Howard Hain

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“God won’t let His power flow through someone who demands clarity.”

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20170929_064112

“The Crucified One” (H. Hain, 2006)


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Faith. Pure Faith.

 


 

Howard Hain is a contemplative layman, husband, and father. He blogs at http://www.howardhain.com

Follow Howard on Twitter @HowardDHain   http://www.twitter.com/HowardDHain

If you enjoyed this post, please consider “liking” it, adding a comment, or passing it along via the social-media links below. Your support is greatly appreciated. Step by step. All for God’s glory.

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Morning Thoughts: Beyond

by Howard Hain

 

F. Hain Untitled ~2014

F. Hain, “Untitled”, ~2014

 

Beyond “Yes”

Beyond “Amen”

Beyond “I love You”

You are beyond

Beyond prayer

Beyond is my prayer

It looks a lot like sitting still

Like not thinking

Not remembering

Not planning

Not wanting

It looks a lot like pure existence

A lot like being free

Infinitely free


 

You, Lord, are the Lord of Freedom, if only we’d accept Your declaration—if only we’d love the person we most imprison with jealousy and petty dislikes.

Free us Lord from ourselves, from our most secret possession, from our deeply hidden pride.

Grant us, Lord of Infinite Freedom, the grace to fly upward, and inward, all toward You.

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Friday Thoughts: Out Of This World

by Howard Hain

 

Vncent van Gogh 1887 Sunflowers Met Museum

Vincent van Gogh, “Sunflowers”, 1887, The Met

 

If only we lived our lives in sanity.

In ability.

In equality.

In justice.

In security.

In compatibility.

In fidelity.

In experience.

In sensitivity.

In vulnerability.

In stability.

In decency.

In fertility.

In gratitude.

In sincerity.

In humanely.

In the world.

In the Word.

In Christ.

In Love.


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“[Holy Father]…I do not ask that you take them out of the world but that you keep them from the evil one.”

—from the “High Priestly Prayer” of Jesus
(Prayer for the Disciples)
The Gospel According to John, Chapter 17 (verse 15)

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http://www.usccb.org/bible/john/17

http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/436524

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Morning Thoughts: To All Gathered in Thought and Prayer

by Howard Hain

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Jesus Christ is Real.

He is not made of wood or ink or paint. He is not a distant figure from a distant past. He is here. We gather in His name—He is here. He is as real as each one of us. He is what makes each one of us real.

The message is simple:

He is the Son of God. He is the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. He is Love. He is Forgiveness. He is Humility. He is Boldness and Obedience.

He is Lord. He is God. He is Jesus Christ, crucified and risen.

He is Christ Jesus, and He is Real.

I see Him now in each of you. I say to Him, I say to you: “I love You, my Lord and my God.”

Now, let us go and tell others…

 

egon schiele conversion

Egon Schiele, “Conversion” (1912)

 

“And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

— Matthew 28:20

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Morning Thoughts: Prayer

by Howard Hain

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I sat toward the back. Near the cooler. At the third table of three.

Looking through the line of bakery customers, I see out the storefront window, across the somewhat crowded street—that seems to be undergoing never-ending construction—a woman waking by. She passes before the window of the corner convenience store. She crosses herself. I don’t know why. But I believe.

I don’t understand.

But I trust.

I don’t desire. I don’t will. I don’t want.

I respond with faith.

She is good. She is like you—trying her best. She is like me—she could do better.

God loves her. God loves you. God loves me. Nonetheless.

The desire to love is love.

The will to union is union.

The Freedom of Christ is a Cuban pastry with three holes.

I eat away.

I taste and see.

My food is to do the will of Him who sent me.

Faith. Hope. Charity.

All else is a small pile of crumbs—gently laid to rest—the edge of the bakery table—on the well-worn tile floor.


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“There is nothing more gracious than to think well of our neighbor.”

—Saint Therese of Lisieux


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Friday Thoughts: Adolescent Cardinals

by Howard Hain

northern_cardinal_8

Adolescent Cardinal

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Brilliant Red?

Not quite yet.

The color of martyrs?

That remains to be seen.

A touch of green?

Yes, that’s for sure.

It’s the obscurity of ordinary time.

But what about the shade of gray?

An undyed robe.

One way or another, the ascetic life.

They have to learn to let go.

But they seem so unaware?

Certainly the case.

Too busy with growth.

No time to kill.

Branch to branch.

Tree to tree.

Upward.

Onward.

“Let’s find a new field!”

Though they always follow the lead.

Willingly or not.

Of the one bright red.

Hot on his heels.

They tweet and swipe:

“Let me in.”

“I’m ready to fly.”

“Let me lead the way.”

But maybe not yet?

Thinking they’re ready.

Sure sign they’re not.

Blood orange.

The bitter color.

Right before red.

A shade.

A difference.

A single feather.

Off the top of the head.

But avoid the cat.

And their day shall come.

Red.

Like the exhausted sun.

About to explode.

End of a hot August day.

Crushing the horizon.

Making it almost disappear.

But there on the cusp.

Just before another world.

We see the spectrum.

All yellow now gone.

The orange too has disappeared.

And the green?

Vanquished for eternity.

Even purple is held at bay.

Only the sincerity of red can sustain.

A pure offering.

A humble heart.

The undyed pigment.

Of a completely different sort.

The deepest kind of red.

Almost a shade of blue.

Blinding even the sun.

For Justice is duly at hand.

And a small bird of mercy.

White as white can be.

Flies incredibly low.

In friendship.

With him who bowed down.

Hand in hand.

A cardinal and a dove.

Into the jaws of death.

Though ever so certain.

There will be at least one more.

Yes, certainly another.

An heir, an offspring, a sturdy new branch.

At least one more.

For the young one watches.

Witnesses the entire display.

He sees the fully mature.

Return to their mother’s nest.

And lo and behold.

Dusk becomes dawn.

The newest day of all.

Rising from the west.

For the brightest color.

Has none at all.

What a display.

Life outdoing death.

The power of meekness.

Gaining the upper outstretched hand.

And with a gentle gesture.

Breaking the gates of hell.

Opening wide.

Heaven’s once narrow door.

Red all a flutter.

Now only joy and peace.

A cardinal is no more.


 

red-cardinal

Mature Cardinal

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