Thursday, November 9, 2006

Today’s reading

Philippians 3:1

“Finally, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord.” (Phil. 3:1).

Prayer

Rejoice. But how can I when joy lies behind a locked door for which I haven’t got the key. The dead weight of my clumsy failures hangs on my soul. There is no shaking if off. It surrounds and envelopes me, sinking my soul into gray depths of inevitability where all I touch stirs the anxiety of my inadequacy.

Words spoken and left unspoken haunt me in the night and awaken me from sleep. Internal voices whisper accusations against my weakness of mind. So frequently I fail to speak with power or assurance those treasures of heart and mind you have given. My mind and mouth are poor stewards of your mysteries, again producing stares of confusion and incomprehension as I stumble and stutter what little I know of you. Anxiety fuels torrents of words as I search for the right ones that might invite others into immeasurable depths of your heart.

In the night, I regret every word. I seek justification as though I could part thick clouds of failure and chase off the voices. I cannot. Only you can.

O Holy Listener, my dearest friend, dwelling in the shimmering dark silence of eternity, you know how my failures haunt and cut my heart. You know my failed attempts at self-justification wring every ounce of joy from me. My doomed efforts exile my soul from the land of grace you into which you constantly coax me. I am left to the barren landscapes of perfectionism and other self-justifications where I find no joy.

May I enter now the gracious space where I know you as my Beloved? Will you unlock the door, for you alone hold the key, that I may enter the gracious garden of your delight where I know that you delight in me. There I know the pleasure you take in my poor efforts to share the vision of your love you have given me. You laugh at my errors, amused at my failures, weeping with joy at my hunger to speak your wonder. I ache for that joy.

Laughing One, Eternal Joy, I want all whom I serve to know you and rest in the the Unspeakable Loving Wonder you are. May they have eyes to see and ears to hear you who are ever near. There are days I’m certain you would have chosen better had you called another to this work. But if you insist, I will stumble along. Give me wisdom and words to speak the Loving Mystery you are. Now and again, assure me that even these poor efforts please you. And I will share your laughter. Amen.