A Thought on Trinity Sunday

The Trinity is a mystery, just as it should be. God himself is beyond the perception of man, only through his own revelation can we know about him, only through relationship can we know him. Therefore analogising the Trinity seems to have fallen out of favour since the time of St Patrick, any analogy will fall short. But if we know that to begin with, can we not use an analogy as a starting place to meditate on the truth that God reveals of himself?

I'm sure this analogy has been hashed and rehashed and taken apart many times before, but the one that caught my attention this Trinity Sunday was the idea of light as shown through a prism. The light is one, both before passing through and after, but the prism reveals distinct colours in the light. For me then, the prism represented God's revelation of himself. He reveals himself in three distinct persons while always remaining One. The light loses nothing by being viewed through the prism, each of the colours remains what it always was, radience, but each shows to the onlooker something about the light. God is whole in each of the persons of the Trinity, not a part of a whole, but a whole, but showing himself in three guises, each adds in abundance to the glory of the Unity.

My mother loves to hang crystals at the East facing window at home - call her Pollyanna - in the morning the room is filled with rainbow colours. When the children are visiting she will climb up and spin the crystals, the room becomes a sunrise disco of dancing light and colour. God is so much more than any analogy could ever tell of him, but in a room of light and colour like that it is hard to miss the wonder of radience that he has built into our world. 

Christ is the light of the world, and light brings colour. Am I allowed to meditate on God through this analogy of light and colour?

Reflecting 19/05/16

Today I followed the Liturgy of the Hours for the first time in a long time. It did me a lot of good, but there were two lines in particular that stood out to me and felt very personal. 

From Psalm 126

They wept as they went, went with seed for the sowing;

but with joy they will come, come bearing the sheaves

There has been a lot of weeping lately. We're still waiting for someone to take a chance on offering us a job. We're sowing now, planting seeds that we're not sure will grow, that we think won't grow, but we have no choice but to continue. I had never understood why the sowing of seeds would involve sadness. I now know it's the sadness of uncertainty, fear, anxiety. It's the space where hope should fit, and sometimes does not. But there, in the next line is the promise: they will reap with joy. And the sweetness of the crop will be enhanced by the bitterness of the sowing. There will be a harvest because God does not abandon his people. I must try to feel like I haven't been abandoned. 

From Isaiah 40

Like a shepherd he feeds his flock,

  he gathers the lambs in his arms and lifts them to his breast;

  he carries the pregnant ewes.

The good shepherd extends his utmost tenderness to the pregnant ewes. This touched a pregnant lady's soul. The good shepherd cares well for his pregnant ewe, and the good Lord will not abandon me.

It was all going so well...

and then my laptop died. This is why I haven't written in ages! But I'm up and running again with a new set up and plan to show you all the craft work I've been doing over the last few months and write down some of the strange thoughts that have been floating through my head.

For now though here are a few teaser images to give you an idea of what I've been up to.