Item description for A Larger Hope: Opening the Heart to God by R. Colglazier...
Overview Exploring biblical stories and drawing on literature, film, and life experiences, Colglgazier leads us to discover our own journey of faith that is full of mystery, fear, joy, and wonder.
Publishers Description "Genuine faith," says Scott Colglazier, "is finding the courage to open your heart and move into your life story, listening to your deepest needs and experiencing God's presence in the most intimate place of the heart." Exploring biblical stories and drawing on literature, film, and life experiences, Colglazier leads us to discover our own journey of faith, a journey not in search of the right religion or the right way to worship, but one that is always an adventure, full of mystery, fear, joy, and wonder. Colglazier challenges churches to serve as God has called them to do and to worry less about defending their beliefs and about self-preservation, and instead contribute to the human family while maintaining an attitude of respect for people of all beliefs.
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Studio: Chalice Press
Est. Packaging Dimensions: Length: 8.52" Width: 5.56" Height: 0.5" Weight: 0.59 lbs.
Release Date Jun 1, 2002
Publisher Chalice Press
ISBN 0827221320 ISBN13 9780827221321
Availability 0 units.
More About R. Colglazier
R. Scott Colglazier is senior minister at First Congregational Church of Los Angeles, and author of several books, including A Larger Hope: Opening the Heart to God, Finding a Faith That Makes Sense, Circling the Divine, and Touchstones from Chalice Press.
Reviews - What do customers think about A Larger Hope: Opening the Heart to God?
A Thoughtful Work (and Setting the Record Straight) Jan 6, 2006
This is a thoughtful and much-needed perspective.
I am troubled that a previous reviewer portrayed Dr. Colglazier by quoting only a small portion of one of his columns. In order to set the record straight, here is the entire column:
I have nothing to say. Nothing to say about Jesus, or the church, the virgin birth, Mary and Joseph, Bethlehem or Jerusalem. Nothing to say about Matthew and Luke, about angels or magi, or the lowly stable. Nothing to say about Christmas or Christianity, world peace, global hunger, or the war in Iraq. Nothing to say about the pandemic of AIDS, the presidential election, or who is going to win what bowl game on New Year's Day. Nothing.
I'm sitting in my office surrounded by thousands of books. (I now have a library of nearly 3,000 volumes.) I estimate that in one way or another, half of them are about Jesus of Nazareth, the Jesus whose birth is remembered and celebrated this coming week. Even if you're not a Christian, Christmas has a way of becoming part of a cultural celebration. (As one friend said to me not long ago, "We don't really believe much of it, but we sure like the gifts once a year!") Nevertheless, in spite of all the books, words, sentences and pompous ideas, it seems like none of them are adequate for explaining Christmas.
Maybe having nothing to say is a good thing.
When I contemplate the first Christmas, I tend to think of it as an event where very little was said. Can you begin to imagine that night, that silent night of Jesus' birth? Mary and Joseph are traveling, and he is quiet, worrying about where they will spend the night. As for Mary, her ankles are swollen, her belly heavy with child, and, truth be told, she doesn't feel like talking to anyone. The birth happens in a barn -- dark, quiet and cavernous. A cow bellows every once in a while, and occasionally, a horse offers a wet, mucousy snort. But, for the most part, it is a night of silence.
I see Mary's eyes becoming large and dark, like the eyes of a pony. They are dilated with adrenaline, and she is breathing hard, eventually panting and pushing. Then there is that brief sound of suction, of life coming out of the hollow of her body, and yes, a baby squirming into the world. A tender slap is administered to his skin and Jesus (at this moment a baby like any other baby) sucks down the sweetness of oxygen. He is wrapped in cotton cloths and gently placed upon the chest of his mother. She breathes. The baby breathes. And then more silence.
Perhaps this is the truth of Christmas: It is only when we have nothing to say that we discover what we need to hear. Christmas is not so much explained as it is waited upon; it is a mystery gently revealed.
When our losses are beyond words, we finally begin to feel the hand of a neighbor upon our shoulder. When our disappointments are unspeakable, we hear the deepest voices of love. When our failures are inexcusable, perhaps then and only then do we hear the true voices of acceptance. And when we're so homesick that no words can begin to capture it, a letter arrives and we read it as if each word were a puff of fresh air.
Some of us want words and explanation all the time. But spiritual transformation happens only when we are willing (and sometimes forced) to pause and listen to the deepest voice of all, the voice of God within each of us. Christmas offers a gift to the world. It's the opportunity for us to listen again to the divine vibrato pulsing through the universe. It's a voice that says, "You are loved and have a place in the world." It's a voice that says, "I still have a purpose for you, regardless of how long your winter has become." And it's a voice that says, "No matter what happens, I will never leave you."
Often, at least in my experience, such a voice is heard only when we finally have nothing to say, suggesting, of course, that we don't grasp Christmas, it grasps us -- and it happens when we are willing to risk a little silence. Or in the words of T.S. Eliot, it happens when we are willing to "wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought; so the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing."
That's it. Christmas is the stillness that speaks; it is the emptiness that is always full.
New Ager: IN Christain Clothing (Stay away from Colglazier) Jul 13, 2005
I will let Dr. Scott Colglazier quote speak for himself, "By R. Scott Colglazier
Special to the Star-Telegram
I have nothing to say. Nothing to say about Jesus, or the church, the virgin birth, Mary and Joseph, Bethlehem or Jerusalem. Nothing to say about Matthew and Luke, about angels or magi, or the lowly stable. Nothing to say about Christmas or Christianity, world peace, global hunger, or the war in Iraq. Nothing to say about the pandemic of AIDS, the presidential election, or who is going to win what bowl game on New Year's Day. Nothing."