Divine Love

There are no galley slaves in the royal vessel of divine love – every man works his oar voluntarily.

Saint Francis de Sales

I ran across this little plaque, packed away in a box, not long after we moved into our condo. It has hung next to the back door, near my desk, for the past twenty years. It was on the wall by the front door in my grandparents home for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure where it came from or how old it is. My grandparents built their house in the 1920s and I would guess the plaque could be around 100 years old.

Why does it hang next to my door? Well, that’s a complicated question with an equally complicated answer. I have written before about my complex relationship with religion and faith. In the case of the plaque, part of the reason for its current setting is simply nostalgia. A remembrance of a place from long ago with many happy memories. As a personal statement of belief, that becomes more difficult.

I’ve written in the past about my tenuous association with organized religion. I was brought up in a christian family and was baptized, confirmed and married, the first time, in the church. I can still recite most of the Bible verses pertaining to the birth of Christ from memorizing them for what seems like a million Christmas pageants. In the years growing up, I didn’t think much about it. Religion was not something I questioned.

As I became older, I began to have doubts about what I was brought up to believe. Some of it didn’t make sense to me. It took me many years to come to a place were I was comfortable with my own faith. I have been in situations were I felt God’s presence close enough to touch. I believe God has given me a guardian angel to watch over me and I have seen the truth of it play out many times.

I believe God can be worshiped in many ways and it’s not up to me to decide which are valid and which are not. I have faith in Divine love and God’s grace. That might look different to you than it does to me. That’s okay. Besides the plaque on the wall, my Grandmother gave me her opinion that faith was a personal belief and only I could decide what was right for me.