“On Christmas, God’s eternal life slipped into our world practically unnoticed and set in motion the great concealment of the ages. For three decades, God grew—unhurried and unnoticed. Patiently waiting to unveil His life to the world. Has the humility of His hiddenness registered . . . .  It’s like Tolkien becoming the hobbit or Lewis becoming the lion. The author writes himself into the story. No, it’s more than that. The Creator becomes the creation. . . .  If the Christ-life took decades to develop in our God, then perhaps we can rest as easy as He did. Perhaps we can live unhurried lives. Perhaps we can live content with our unnoticed-ness, our hiddenness, growing in grace, growing in God”  (Jon Bailey, Renovare Weekly Digest, December 22, 2017).

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“For me, this wondrous universe cannot be an incoherent and accidental cosmos, nor can it be grounded in evil, although I admit that this intellectual leap and bias toward beauty is still an act of faith and trust. I further believe that a free and loving God desires our participation in co-creation. The Great Work is ours too” (Richard Rohr in Daily Meditation for February 25, 2017).

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“In the modern West as well as in the ancient East, there is an undercurrent of fear, much of it fueled by neurotic or manipulative religion that results in the apprehension of God as the enemy . . . . There are many things to be afraid of in this world and many persons who endanger our security, but God is not one of them.  That is why we need to develop an Abrahamic imagination. Abraham stands out as a person who rose above all in the commonplace terror of his times and lived as God’s friend. Abraham knew that God was his friend.  He lived in an atmosphere charged with divine goodness . . . . He was called the friend of God because he experienced God accurately and truly.  He lived as God’s friend. He responded as God’s friend.  He believed that God was on his side, and he lived like it” (Eugene Peterson in As Kingfishers Catch Fire, p. 11).

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“My spiritual father, Francis of Assisi (1181-1226), was a master of making room for the new and letting go of that which was tired or empty. He was ready for absolute newness from God and therefore could also trust fresh and new attitudes in himself. His God was not tired, and so he was never tired. His God was not old, so Francis remained forever young.

Both Jesus and Francis were “conservatives” in the true sense of the term: they conserved what was worth conserving—the core, the transformative life of the Gospel—and did not let accidentals get in the way. They then ended up looking quite “progressive,” radical, and even dangerous to the status quo. This is the biblical pattern, from Abraham to Moses, to Jeremiah, Job, John the Baptist, Mary, and Joseph” (Richard Rohr in Daily Meditation, December 25, 2017).