Grief

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Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Rethinking The Cat

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Never been fond of cats. Never. Never had a reason to. Then I stumbled across a poem titled “Jubilate Agno,” by Christopher Smart penned between 1759 and 1763 that caused me to rethink this animal. The title, by the way, means “celebrate the Lamb.”

Here is a summation of this unusual poem and three points that spoke most loudly to me:

1. He considers God:

My cat is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving Him, worshipping in His way. Having done duty and received blessings, he begins to consider himself by inspecting, washing, stretching and extending; he fleas and rubs himself; he looks up for instruction; he goes in quest for food.

 2. Having considered God and himself, he considers his neighbor:

If he meets another cat, he will kiss her in kindness; when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.

3. When his day’s work is done, his business properly begins:

He keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary, counteracting the powers of darkness, the devil, by brisking about the life. He purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he is a good cat.

[Perhaps the cat is a better Christian than I.]

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