An old Indian narrative tells of a man who, one day, he felt a great need for God.
Then, inside your soul, whispered: God, talk to me. Need immensely to hear his voice.
At the same moment, on the branch around the corner of a red-filled nature.
The man realized the beauty of singing, or of the message that was on musicality and repeated: God, talk to me!
In that instant, the nature has changed its look and Thunder echoed in the heavens.
Still, the man was unable to hear.
Looked around and said: God, let me see it.
And a star shone in the sky. Soon, millions of small lanterns shone throughout the mantle of night. The Moon disbanded in light of silver and mirrored in the waters of the Lake.
But the man did not notice. Now, almost desperate, began to speak louder: God, show me a miracle.
And a child was born. However, the man did not feel the pulse of life in the new be that rose, hopeful.
The man began to cry and said: God, I feel so alone. Touch me and let me feel that You are here with me ...
And a butterfly landed softly on your shoulder, opening and closing the multicolored wings.
The man lifted his shoulder and amazed.
* * *
The study of nature shows us, everywhere, the action of a hidden desire.
Everywhere, matter obeys a force that dominates, organizes and directs.
The spectacle of nature, the aspect of the heavens, mountains, seas, present to our Mind the idea of a hidden Intelligence in the universe.
In each of us there are sources from where they can sprout waves of life and love, virtues, powers countless.
Is there, in this intimate sanctuary, one can find God. God is in us. The souls God reflect how the drops of morning dew reflect the Sun's rays, each one according to its own brightness and purity.
Is within themselves that all men of genius, the great missionaries and prophets knew God and his laws and revealed to the people of the Earth.
* * *
It is comforting to be able to walk in life with the forehead lifted to the heavens, knowing that even in storms, in the middle of the most cruel tests, at the bottom of the prisons, as on the brink of the abyss, a Providence, a divine law, hovers over us.
A parent who observes our acts and our struggles, our tears, loosens our own glory and our happiness.
Redaction of Spiritist Moment, based on indigenous, Prayer
by ignored and in cap. IX, PT. 2, the book after the death of Léon
Denis, ed. Feb.
In 8.1.2013.
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário