Monday, November 27, 2006

Today’s reading

Philippians 3:12-14

“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have already made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12-14).

Prayer

My life, Dear One, is a rhythm of resting and pressing on. But there is little of the spiritual athlete in me today, perhaps ever. I prefer to rest in the mystery of your love for me, tasting the sweetness of the sacraments you prepare for me: Dixie’s smile, my children’s voices on the phone, the mischief of my grandsons, moody November sunsets, reading gentle souls whose words again remind me that I am not alone. All these and more are sacraments of a holy grace that fills this needy heart of mine. Only in recent years have I allowed myself to rest, to sink into the ocean of your mercy, trusting you will always bear me in your beloved nearness.

But Monday comes. The semester marches inexorably to a close. Insistent voices cry out in consciousness, “Press on. There is work to do, phone calls to make, appointments to keep, people to consult, bills to pay, articles and a sermon to write.” The voices shake my soul from languid currents of re-creation. They consume my consciousness with an insistent staccato that allows no gracious empty spaces in soul or schedule.

I prefer to rest a while longer, but neither the day nor you, it seems, will allow it. And you offer a promise: More. There is more of you to know, to savor, to enter. You are Boundless Life, and the wonder you are is beyond height or depth, length or breadth. You are always more than I think or can imagine, always more than I know or ever can know, more life, more love, more hope, more than any can ever know. No arms are long enough to gather you in. No mind can cast its net wide enough to capture the immeasurable fullness of your life and holy labor in this and every cosmos.

Whatever I have known of you, however small or great, there is more of you to make my own, more that you are infinitely pleased to give… and to give me. Thank you. Thank you for refusing to let me rest with what is, with what I have known of you. Pull me on even against my willing that I may press deeper into the mystery of you, who are all love and life. Amen.