Rome Sweet Home

Interesting quote from “Theology for Beginners”

I’m reading “Theology for Beginners” by F. J. Sheed and wanted to share this quote with you.

“We shall see Him, not “through a glass,” we shall know Him, not by means of an idea. Our intellect will be in direct contact with God; nothing will come between it and God, not even an idea. The nearest we can get to it, perhaps, is to think of the idea we now have of God: then try to conceive of God Himself taking the place of the idea. That is why the very essence of the life of heaven is called the Beatific Vision—which means the seeing that causes bliss. Just as our knowing faculty, the intellect, so our loving faculty, the will, is to be in direct contact with God, nothing coming between, God in the will, the will in God, love without detour or admixture. So it will be with every one of our powers—energizing at its very fullest upon its supreme object. And that, if you will think about it, is the definition of happiness. But observe that all this is based upon doing something which by nature we cannot do. The natural powers of man’s intellect fall short of seeing God direct by a double limitation: as we have seen, our natural way of knowing is always by means of ideas, so that we cannot see anything direct; and God, being infinite, can never be within the hold of our natural strength, or the strength of any finite being whatever. Putting it bluntly, the life of heaven requires powers which by nature we do not possess. If we are to live it, we must be given new powers. To make a rough comparison: if we wanted to live on another planet, we should need new breathing powers, which by nature our lungs have not got. To live the life of heaven, we need new knowing and loving powers, which by nature our souls have not got. For heaven our natural life is not sufficient; we need supernatural life. We have it only by God’s free gift, which is why we call it grace (the word is related to gratis). Sanctifying grace will be our next topic. Everything the Church does is connected with it, and can be understood but cloudily if we do not grasp what it is. SANCTIFYING GRACE When we come to die there is only one question that matters—have we sanctifying grace in our souls? If we have, then to heaven we shall go. There may be certain matters to be cleared, or cleansed, on the way, but to heaven we shall go, for we have the power to live there. If we have not, then to heaven we cannot go; not because we lack the price of admission, but because quite simply our soul lacks the powers that living in heaven calls for.”

Start reading it for free: http://a.co/62L71Tx

Abba Waits

Abba waits.

While I wandered,
Wandered far,
Abba waits.

Winding roads and forests,
Miles and mountains,
Abba waits.

Husks and devolution,
Drunken prostitution,
All the while, Abba waits.

Humbled in revelation,
Plans of feeble protestation,
Still Abba waits.

Homeward, humbled,
Bowed and broken,
Eyes to the horizon, Abba waits

Heart aflame,
Running, embracing, gifting a son,
For from eternity, Abba waits.

© 2017 Joann Nelander

Song of My Heart

bouguereau-compassion-1897

I sing my song of love to Thee,
My God, in Persons, Holy Three,
My Three, as You desire to be,
Have come to earth to succor me.

I, who pine, wanting Thee to please,
Lift heart and hands upon my knees,
Hoping, True God, for Thee to live,
For Your Heart beats but to forgive.

©2016 Joann Nelander

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I Was Irish Once

I was Irish once…

I was Irish for brief moments,
As they danced on makeshift stage.
Three sisters donned in green and white,
With ribbons in curled hair.

I was Irish for brief moments,
As locks bounced to rhythms tapped,
By jigging, flying feet,
Flitting blithely through the air.

I was Irish for brief moments,
Of merriment sublime,
Happy, joyful leaping,
Knees high, and lifted, kicking.

I was Irish for brief moments
Minstrels played their magic tunes,
And young girls moved in rocking fashion
Erin’s reveries impassioned.

I was Irish for brief moments.
Sweetly skirted colleens,
Poised on pointed toes.
Sent hearts a-skipping, happy legs a-lifting,

I was Irish for brief moments,
As fairies with green ribbons
In coiffed and flaming hair,
Spun a golden space in memory’s place.

I was Irish for brief moments,
And see again in dreaming,
Gladsome spinning, hopping, prancing,
Three sisters on stage dancing.

Yes, I was Irish once.

 

©2013 Joann Nelander