Tag Archives: healing

Hildegard von Bingen – Ave generosa -O Vis Aeternitatis – Ave Maria, O Auctrix Vite

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Brain-Healing Bridges

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Brain-Healing Bridges.

Theology of Healing Series–Monsignor Douglas Raun

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Theology of Healing – Part 1

Click to download in MP3 format (88.01MB)

Theology of Healing – Part 2

Click to download in MP3 format (104.96MB)

Healing the Original Wound

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“If you have loved and been loved in return, you have some idea of what the promise of eternal life is.  You can think a little of the love of God.  If you feel that you have been unloved or have not really loved, then you have a great hunger inside of you for the mysterious love of God.  In either case, you know something about the imperative need, the restlessness, the hunger that we all have to find love, unfailing love, in the brief reality we call our lives.”

Fr. Benedict J. Groeschel

Fr. Benedict J. Groeschel died recently after a long life of love and service.  I’ve asked him to be my spiritual director now that he has eternity to answer my questions. I’ll start small with his book.

Read a bit more  about Fr. Groeschel

Passion of a Warrior

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When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Move the Hands of God by Prayer

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In the silence God invites without words.  My prayers are often noisy affairs filled with faces, memories, love and feelings of sorrow.  I am often overwhelmed and moved to tears by the poignancy of a fleeting thought. My heart tells me that what seems insignificant holds a treasure.  God’s gifts often come in disguise like the beggar at the door who is Christ.  The Spirit says minister here in this place at this time; reach back through the years to move the hand of God by prayer.

I am with God, the Lord of All, including Time.  I may have missed or misused moments to do good, but God reigns in Eternity, as present in the Past as He is in my heartbeat.  God’s hands are not tied by the flow of Time.  He is there and here and Eternal Now.  My lowly prayer, clothed in The Name, breaks down the wall that stands between my need or regret, and blessing.  Like the little donkey that carried the King of Kings, my humble prayer sets in motion the flow of grace to love, to heal, to mend, to restore and bless anew.

Joann Nelander