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Doorway to Spiritual Awakening: Becoming Partakers of the Divine

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Theodore J. Nottingham

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“The word Church (Ecclesia) means: The assembly of those who are called out. In other words, each individual who is called out of a godless world gathers with companions on the Way and becomes part of the Body of Christ together – incarnations of Divine Goodness. (p. 45)”

Spiritual TransformationChristian MysticismTheodore J NottinghamThe Way Of ChristThe Body Of ChristDivine Goodness
Book:Doorway to Spiritual Awakening: Becoming Partakers of the Divine
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“Let us come into this holy place cleansed, purified. That's how we honor God. That's how we prove our belief in the arrival of the divine in the midst of our lives. God will help the one who seeks to make those efforts. Finally he says, „Put on (or clothe) yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ. Don't think of that as some other unapproachable metaphor. It means think like Him. Live like Him. Not as a vagrant, but as a compassionate person, a forgiving person. Even if you're the only one in the crowd. Don't let the poison of negativity get contagious on you. Recognize it for what it is. Put on Christ, nothing less. Each one of us is called to that. Because in putting on that understanding of life, you find your true Self, your true destiny, your true joy. (p. 52)”

Spiritual WisdomTrue SelfIlluminationChrist ConsciousnessChristian MysticismTheodore J NottinghamWay Of Christ
Book:Doorway to Spiritual Awakening: Becoming Partakers of the Divine
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“Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me. But in the main, I feel like a brown bag of miscellany propped against a wall. Against a wall In company with other bags, white, red and yellow. Pour out the contents, and there is discovered a jumble of small, things priceless and worthless. A first water diamond, an empty spool bits of broken glass, lengths of string, a key to a door long since crumbled away, a rusty knife-blade, old shoes saved for a road that never was and never will be, a nail bent under the weight of things too heavy for any nail, a dried flower or two still a little fragrant. in your hand is the brown bag. On the ground before you is the jumble it held so much like the jumble in the bags could they be emptied that all might be dumped in a single heap and the bags refilled without altering the content of any greatly. A bit of colored glass more or less would not matter. Perhaps that is how the Great Stuffer of Bags filled them in the first place, who knows?”

PridePrejudiceSanguine
Book:How it Feels to be Colored Me
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“The other night we talked about literature's elimination of the unessential, so that we are given a concentrated "dose" of life. I said, almost indignantly, "That's the danger of it, it prepares you to live, but at the same time, it exposes you to disappointments because it gives a heightened concept of living, it leaves out the dull or stagnant moments. You, in your books, also have a heightened rhythm, and a sequence of events so packed with excitement that I expected all your life to be delirious, intoxicated." Literature is an exaggeration, a dramatization, and those who are nourished on it (as I was) are in great danger of trying to approximate an impossible rhythm. Trying to live up to Dostoevskian scenes every day. And between writers there is a straining after extravagance. We incite each other to jazz-up our rhythm.”

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Book:The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
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