The god of Religion

Proud and insatiable are the hearts of those whose god is religion.

Like a bride gazing into a mirror and becoming increasingly obsessed by her own beauty, yet never being content with what she sees, her attention is far too easily drawn away from the true purpose of her efforts, her groom.  She is captivated by whatever shiny accessory or cosmetic treatment promises to compensate for the endless imperfections increasingly magnified, even invented by her own vanity.

Face, hair and gown, she primps endlessly, seeking to satisfy what she is convinced she should be, while all but forgetting, that the pleasure of her beloved, and all he really wants, is her uninhibited, unpretentious love and adoration; the wholeness of her heart.

Such is the condition of many a church, and many a church-goer.  The beautiful Bride of Christ too easily loses sight of the Savior’s true desire, becoming more and more obsessed with her own desire to become what she wants to see, or what she has come to believe she should see, in the mirror.

But, truth is, the mirror cannot reveal to our eyes what only the eyes of our Lord can see…the condition of our heart and whether we are lost in the vanity of our religious expression, or lost in a longing love and desire to seek Him, His presence, His Glory and His pleasure alone.

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”  James 1:27

PDS

Mother of Exiles

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

This poem, 'The New Colossus', written by Emma Lazarus in 1883, is found inscribed on a plaque at the base of the Statue of Liberty.  

These powerful words and this beautiful sight have greeted, comforted and inspired many generations of people from all over the world; people seeking nothing more than a better life for themselves and their children. 

Chances are, your family, like mine, was among them, and we have been blessed beyond measure because of the faith, courage and sacrifice our forebears expended to become Americans.

Most of our families were workers and farmers; simple laborers and craftsmen who, with an industrious and independent spirit, supported themselves and built their communities; the same communities we call home today.

 

While the value to our society of those who are well educated and wealthy cannot be denied, they are not what has been, or what will be the heart, soul and strength of our nation; that honor belongs exclusively to those who work the hardest for an hourly wage, or a modest salary, to educate themselves, feed their families and pay bills. 

And when we, or our leaders, forget this truth and tell the world that ordinary folks, like us, are not welcome simply because they come from an impoverished country, we will have forsaken the Grace of our God and the achievements of our predecessors, and brought shame to the memory of their dreams, as well as our own legacy.

-PDS 
12-Jan-2018