Milk, as most of us know, is a pretty mediocre beverage. For starters, it comes from the internals of a cow or goat. Not exactly what most of us reach for when we’re thirsty. After it’s forced on us during infant-hood, we mostly don’t drink the stuff, except it’s a nice compliment to cereal. I’ll give it that much. When the mediocrity of milk spoils, it becomes a sour and chunky liquid, much like vomit. From the vomit, we make all kinds of questionable substances, like yogurt, sour cream, ranch dressing, and worst of all, cheese.
It will feel so otherworldly when you hear a voice within you that is peaceful and kind. A voice that’s unburdened by the sense that everything you do is wrong and that your life is on the verge of collapsing at any minute. You’ll just be in the shower or lying in bed at night or reading a novel, and this voice will confidentially break through all the noise. From time to time, the voice will offer you a clear insight, and just like that you’ll know what to do in the kind of situation that might have terrified you in the past. Maybe, just maybe, this voice is what Christians call “the Holy Spirit.”
I have long been a reader, commenter, and fellow obsessor over at the Notre Dame blog, One Foot Down. As such, it’s been exciting recently to get the chance to do some writing for the site. Though the team faltered earlier than expected — in the Sweet 16 after earning a well-deserved #1-seed — I enjoyed following the Notre Dame women’s basketball team in the NCAA Tournament. The articles are linked for you below:
- Irish Earn 1-seed, Will Match up against North Carolina A&T
- Notre Dame gets by Indiana, Advances to Sweet 16
- Recruit Earns Gatorade Player of the Year Award
“As I have walked among the desperate, rejected, and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they ask — and rightly so — what about Vietnam? They ask if our own nation wasn’t using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today — my own government.” ~Dr./Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., “Beyond Vietnam–A Time to Break the Silence”
As you may know, Valentine’s Day is a holiday that originally celebrated a Christian martyr in ancient Rome. Today, we could surely exaggerate the day’s importance and become depressed by our aloneness or over-pleased by our relational glee or we could even criticize the day as just another commercial stunt. For the past few years, I have used the day to reflect on a brief passage in the twenty-first chapter of the Gospel of John. The context here isn’t romantic or sexual in implication, but there is something about it that feels central to who we are as human beings.