Beatitudes Blog

The Formerly Blind Man Remembers

The Formerly Blind Man Remembers

The Formerly Blind Man Remembers (poem) by J. Marshall Jenkins “Tell no one,” he insisted after spitting on dust and rubbing the mud in my eyes until I saw, before anything else, his face. Now I understand: Time ripens like a fig, does no good plucked too soon, no...

The Denial

The Denial

The Denial “Woman, I know him not,” Peter replied on behalf of us all. Give him credit: He did not altogether lie. Who then could claim to know Christ? Time and again he worked wonders and forbade the healed to tell, a futile command, true, but to our eyes, it...

Knowing Wind (poem)

Knowing Wind (poem)

Knowing Wind  for Wanda by J. Marshall Jenkins   The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit (John 3:8). You teach me much about trees,...

Soft Morning Light (Poem)

Soft Morning Light (Poem)

  Soft Morning Light   for Wanda J. Marshall Jenkins No matter how strident the march of darkness as my good angels scatter and deny knowing my name, your soft morning light prevails after predawn darkness, sometimes playfully, sometimes ever so quietly. It is...

Here We Are: Remembering Betty Marshall Jenkins

Here We Are: Remembering Betty Marshall Jenkins

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will.be called children of God (Matthew 5:9). This post is the eulogy I delivered for my mother, Betty Marshall Jenkins, at Shandon Presbyterian Church, Columbia, SC on January, 21,2023. She lived from April 2, 1925 until December...

Bare Winter Trees (Poem)

Bare Winter Trees (Poem)

  Bare Winter Trees J. Marshall Jenkins In my hurry to the mailbox this cold December morning, bare winter trees draw my gaze from rain soaked roots up to manifold etched fingers pointing - look! – to gray cloud cover sagging under  light poised to burst through....

As a psychotherapist and spiritual director, I bring well-honed insight and skill to these posts; yet, my vulnerability plays a more important part, for more than advice from experts, serious people of faith need resonance with fellow travelers.

In my writing and in your reading and comments, may we face our challenges in God’s compassionate presence rather than in a private dressing room where we try in vain to make ourselves presentable to God at an appointed meeting. God meets us where we are.

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