The fur-burritos have me figured out. They know that every morning I am going to roust them out of the air conditioned house and call them to walk off some of the kibble, chicken and biscuits that threaten to collapse their six-inch legs under the weight of their lazy butts. I am walking off my own share of chicken and biscuits for the same reason and my misery wants their company.
Once the weather got hot they got sneaky. Rosie is an old girl. She'll play Camille, placing a paw on her forehead and falling on her fainting couch, maintaining her vigil as she waits for My Gift From God's truck to come into view as he returns from coffee. She thinks it's her duty to bark him down the road, lest he forget where his beloved waits.
Frankie is a conflicted teenager. He wants to explore and he wants to be with me. But gee whiz it's hot. So he will follow me a quarter mile down the road, falling behind little by little, until he gives up and goes back home, and I turn around to find the road empty.
Today both burritos decided to stay on the porch from the get-go. MGFG was having none of it. As he left for coffee he loaded both burritos up in the truck and drove off to find me. When he did, he stopped and opened the door and dumped them out on the road and sped off for town. They sat gazing at his dust as the truck grew smaller and finally disappeared from view, and then trudged after me the rest of the way.
Once I heard someone comment about Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd...surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,") that the sense of being followed by goodness and mercy is something like being herded along by a couple of sheepdogs nipping at our heels. Ever since, I've thought that Goodness and Mercy would be good names for a Christian's dogs; certainly better to call, "Come to me, Mercy!" instead of "C'mere Dammit!"
The burritos are good once they finally get moving, but beforehand they are the poster-curs for acedia. We don't talk much these days about acedia, but it means "spiritual sloth, mental laziness." Wikipedia calls it "a state of listlessness or torpor, or not caring about or being concerned with one's condition or position in the world." Yep, that's them all right.
Once the weather got hot they got sneaky. Rosie is an old girl. She'll play Camille, placing a paw on her forehead and falling on her fainting couch, maintaining her vigil as she waits for My Gift From God's truck to come into view as he returns from coffee. She thinks it's her duty to bark him down the road, lest he forget where his beloved waits.
Frankie is a conflicted teenager. He wants to explore and he wants to be with me. But gee whiz it's hot. So he will follow me a quarter mile down the road, falling behind little by little, until he gives up and goes back home, and I turn around to find the road empty.
Today both burritos decided to stay on the porch from the get-go. MGFG was having none of it. As he left for coffee he loaded both burritos up in the truck and drove off to find me. When he did, he stopped and opened the door and dumped them out on the road and sped off for town. They sat gazing at his dust as the truck grew smaller and finally disappeared from view, and then trudged after me the rest of the way.
Once I heard someone comment about Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd...surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,") that the sense of being followed by goodness and mercy is something like being herded along by a couple of sheepdogs nipping at our heels. Ever since, I've thought that Goodness and Mercy would be good names for a Christian's dogs; certainly better to call, "Come to me, Mercy!" instead of "C'mere Dammit!"
The burritos are good once they finally get moving, but beforehand they are the poster-curs for acedia. We don't talk much these days about acedia, but it means "spiritual sloth, mental laziness." Wikipedia calls it "a state of listlessness or torpor, or not caring about or being concerned with one's condition or position in the world." Yep, that's them all right.
But sometimes it's us too, especially in the summertime. A lot of the time, we just don't want to leave the porch for our spiritual walk. We show up to church less often, because we are "worshiping God on the golf course in nature." We don't study the Bible every day, because we don't want to be "legalistic" in our devotions. We say, "I believe in grace, not works! And didn't Paul write that, 'God would finish us off' - um - 'complete what He began in us?'" Once in awhile we'll get inspired to mission, and be hard at it until we run out of paint or sing the last VBS song, and then we snap right back to the porch as though our walk was done until next year.
And like a rabbit by the bar ditch distracts a dog, screens and technology catch our eyes and our interest and swallow our time and desire to focus on the Divine. It's so bad that in some congregations pastors even try to engage parishioners by encouraging them to text questions to the pulpit during the sermon. Sometimes church youth leaders will have all their kids sit together in the first couple of rows in the sanctuary on Sunday morning as a way to corral them, keep an eye on whatever they're doing during the service and encourage them to participate in worship. More than once I would look down from the pulpit to see ten heads bowed - but not in prayer - only to see they were all looking at their cell phones. I found I could discourage this after worship was over by saying, (within earshot of their parents and friends), that I'd noticed that they'd spent their the whole time in worship staring at their crotches and wondered what it was that so held their attention!
If you can't drag yourself off the couch, you would do well to lay your hands on Kathleen Norris' book, Acedia and Me for your summer reading. And I would be remiss if I failed to mention that acedia (spiritual sloth) is one of the Deadly Sins that call for intentional repentance and excision from our lives. The traditional prescription for this is: a balance of prayer and work; perseverance/endurance; and meditation on death. Meditation on death sounds both efficient and sufficient. You should probably try that first.
The Hound of Heaven chases after us. Unleash the Hound!
"Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent, for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen." Book of Common Prayer
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