Today’s reading
Philippians 3:1
“Finally, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord.” (Phil. 3:1).
Prayer
Rejoice. I will rejoice for you turn my weakness into blessing. You transpose my failures into victories of grace. You transform my incessant neediness into powerful wings on which I fly to you O Infinite Abundance, there to discover you are all I need.
How many years have I struggled to be what I am not--strong? How long have I fought to deny, to hide, to transcend the crying need and weakness I long ago learned to abhor? So much of my struggle and pain is self imposed, the natural product of denying my own need, my own humanity. From that foul spring flows all manner of sorrow and pain, from self-hatred to manifold failures of courage and compassion.
Late have I learned what should have been clear long ago. Surrender to my needs is surrender to your desire for me. For it is true: You desire me. You desire that I should know you. You desire my nearness. My desire is simply the restless call of your own brooding Spirit.
Could it be? Might all the weakness and neediness I have hidden and denied be the furious flapping of holy wings bearing me home to your embrace? Denying my human heart, I am left alone to my own decrepit devices. But bringing all I am to the infinity of your compassion, my needs and weakness are rendered irrelevant. They do not matter. For all that I lack is overwhelmed by your fullness. All my sorrows evaporate like so much morning mist, burnt off by the everlasting warmth of a love that has delighted in me since the time I was not.
So I will praise and rejoice in you, Loving Mystery, who wears my savior’s face. I will rejoice that in my weakness I know your fullness, in my neediness I know a love in which there is no lack. And I will praise you for making me weak, for in my weakness I discover the magnitude of your divine heart, O Near Immensity. This day I shall name you Boundless Source, for you are always enough for me. Amen.
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Friday, November 10, 2006
Thursday, November 09, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:1
“Finally, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord.” (Phil. 3:1).
Prayer
Rejoice, in all things rejoice. And why? Because you are, and you are here. And we are in the love whom you are. And nothing can change that. All else is details.
Rejoice, for you, Holy Laughter, awake from the tomb laughing at death’s demise. You, Laughing Christ, are the joy of eternal morning. Your risen face is the dawn of everlasting day, bathing all that is in the light of the One whose name is Everlasting Love. So I will rejoice,
I will rejoice for the risen life you are abides also in me, creating a heart of flesh and mind of humility given to your purpose alone. I will rejoice for you who begin your holy purpose in me will complete it. The love that overflows your divine heart will fill and spill also from the well of my soul. You give me knowledge and expression of you before whom my mind and mouth fall mute. I try to speak the wonder I know of you, but I can say nothing. Every thought and word collapses in a heap before you as my soul attempts to name you are beyond all names. Can you accept my impotent, frustrated silence as the highest praise I can give?
I will rejoice that I dwell amid souls in whom you work for your good pleasure. You give such knowledge and joy, not to me alone but to all. I will rejoice for you draw us into a single body beyond our manifold divisions. You join us that we may share the same mind, the same heart, the same love, the same joyous freedom that shines through all eternity from a failed tomb that could not hold you. You are, and you are here, and we are in your unspeakable love, O Laughing One. Today, let me rejoice. Amen.
Philippians 3:1
“Finally, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord.” (Phil. 3:1).
Prayer
Rejoice, in all things rejoice. And why? Because you are, and you are here. And we are in the love whom you are. And nothing can change that. All else is details.
Rejoice, for you, Holy Laughter, awake from the tomb laughing at death’s demise. You, Laughing Christ, are the joy of eternal morning. Your risen face is the dawn of everlasting day, bathing all that is in the light of the One whose name is Everlasting Love. So I will rejoice,
I will rejoice for the risen life you are abides also in me, creating a heart of flesh and mind of humility given to your purpose alone. I will rejoice for you who begin your holy purpose in me will complete it. The love that overflows your divine heart will fill and spill also from the well of my soul. You give me knowledge and expression of you before whom my mind and mouth fall mute. I try to speak the wonder I know of you, but I can say nothing. Every thought and word collapses in a heap before you as my soul attempts to name you are beyond all names. Can you accept my impotent, frustrated silence as the highest praise I can give?
I will rejoice that I dwell amid souls in whom you work for your good pleasure. You give such knowledge and joy, not to me alone but to all. I will rejoice for you draw us into a single body beyond our manifold divisions. You join us that we may share the same mind, the same heart, the same love, the same joyous freedom that shines through all eternity from a failed tomb that could not hold you. You are, and you are here, and we are in your unspeakable love, O Laughing One. Today, let me rejoice. Amen.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Tuesday, November 7, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:1
“Finally, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord.” (Phil. 3:1).
Prayer
Can I praise my way into your presence? That you are here, always, I do not doubt. I have known it to be true even during my despairing years when the joy of your nearness was beyond my grasp. But on average days like this, when I awake with much to do, I need to know you. I need you like I need my next breath. I need to enter you, O Abiding Presence, that joy may overfill my heart before I throw myself into the day’s tasks.
But today my soul is still, unmoved. I am unable to enter into your abiding though I believe you are as near as the air moving through my lungs. Awaken my soul to the wonder of your infinite nearness. Then I will rejoice with words and stirring of soul that is beyond my capacity to create.
In meantime, I will await moments of exquisite awareness amid the small details of living, with my senses attuned to you, O Far Near One. And even while my soul is still, I will rejoice in love’s triumphs as you give me vision to see.
Praise to you, O Exquisite Nearness. Praise to you: I awake again to a world where you are. Praise to you: You redeem me from lonely isolation, prisons of my own making, and link me to your all-encompassing heart where I am never alone, but tied to the joys and sorrows of all held in the embrace of your care. Praise to you; I am in you, dearest Jesus, in you. I dwell in a love as expansive as the universe and as near as the flesh of a friend. Praise to you; I go my way believing you shall draw me into the exuberant unity of your triune love, O Dancing God, where all things move to the rhythm of your divine heart. Let it be so today. Amen.
Philippians 3:1
“Finally, my brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord.” (Phil. 3:1).
Prayer
Can I praise my way into your presence? That you are here, always, I do not doubt. I have known it to be true even during my despairing years when the joy of your nearness was beyond my grasp. But on average days like this, when I awake with much to do, I need to know you. I need you like I need my next breath. I need to enter you, O Abiding Presence, that joy may overfill my heart before I throw myself into the day’s tasks.
But today my soul is still, unmoved. I am unable to enter into your abiding though I believe you are as near as the air moving through my lungs. Awaken my soul to the wonder of your infinite nearness. Then I will rejoice with words and stirring of soul that is beyond my capacity to create.
In meantime, I will await moments of exquisite awareness amid the small details of living, with my senses attuned to you, O Far Near One. And even while my soul is still, I will rejoice in love’s triumphs as you give me vision to see.
Praise to you, O Exquisite Nearness. Praise to you: I awake again to a world where you are. Praise to you: You redeem me from lonely isolation, prisons of my own making, and link me to your all-encompassing heart where I am never alone, but tied to the joys and sorrows of all held in the embrace of your care. Praise to you; I am in you, dearest Jesus, in you. I dwell in a love as expansive as the universe and as near as the flesh of a friend. Praise to you; I go my way believing you shall draw me into the exuberant unity of your triune love, O Dancing God, where all things move to the rhythm of your divine heart. Let it be so today. Amen.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Monday, November 6, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 2:29-30
“Welcome him in the Lord with all joy, and honor such people, because he came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his life to make up for those services that you could not give me.” (Phil. 2:29-30).
Prayer
I lie on my bed and pray. The room is dark, the alarm’s wretched beeping choked off mid-screech. Clumsy hands not yet under my command could not kill it soon enough. I am awake. And already you refuse to let me be. Prayer is on my lips: “Peace to them. Peace be on them all. Give us all peace.” I did not choose to pray or this prayer. It appears fully formed in my mind even as my body begs for a few precious minutes of sweet sleep. But you have determined that time is done.
You, O Eternal Watcher, neither slumber nor sleep. I, on the other hand, need more than you seem to understand. Quite against my will, you awaken me to prayer that for reasons you alone know needs to come from me. So I wake and watch with you over a few of those whom you cherish more than I can know. I lie on my bed and pray: “Peace, your peace be on them all.”
Is this the prayer you would wring from my tired flesh on a weary Monday? It is the one that comes most naturally with no prompting from me. Perhaps it is of your making. If so, I offer it with thanks that you allow me to be an expression of your Spirit’s brooding over one small province in the infinite project of your ceaseless care.
And then this, ‘honor such people.’ Is this your word for the day: that I should honor those for whom you wring prayer from my lips?
I work among those so enamored of your self-giving that they seek to make it their daily labor. Honor? I honor them because they bear the precious life you are. There are moments when you show me how much better they are than I ever have been or will be. Such knowledge does not diminish my soul but lifts me to praise you for the grace I know among them. I shall honor them for I stand in praise and awe of the life they bear. I will honor them because I love you, a love your own Spirit continues to give, all-too-often against my own will. I will honor them because I know: You wake them too with prayers of peace for your world. They are my brothers and sisters, my mothers and fathers. May we honor each other for the mystery we bear. Amen.
Philippians 2:29-30
“Welcome him in the Lord with all joy, and honor such people, because he came close to death for the work of Christ, risking his life to make up for those services that you could not give me.” (Phil. 2:29-30).
Prayer
I lie on my bed and pray. The room is dark, the alarm’s wretched beeping choked off mid-screech. Clumsy hands not yet under my command could not kill it soon enough. I am awake. And already you refuse to let me be. Prayer is on my lips: “Peace to them. Peace be on them all. Give us all peace.” I did not choose to pray or this prayer. It appears fully formed in my mind even as my body begs for a few precious minutes of sweet sleep. But you have determined that time is done.
You, O Eternal Watcher, neither slumber nor sleep. I, on the other hand, need more than you seem to understand. Quite against my will, you awaken me to prayer that for reasons you alone know needs to come from me. So I wake and watch with you over a few of those whom you cherish more than I can know. I lie on my bed and pray: “Peace, your peace be on them all.”
Is this the prayer you would wring from my tired flesh on a weary Monday? It is the one that comes most naturally with no prompting from me. Perhaps it is of your making. If so, I offer it with thanks that you allow me to be an expression of your Spirit’s brooding over one small province in the infinite project of your ceaseless care.
And then this, ‘honor such people.’ Is this your word for the day: that I should honor those for whom you wring prayer from my lips?
I work among those so enamored of your self-giving that they seek to make it their daily labor. Honor? I honor them because they bear the precious life you are. There are moments when you show me how much better they are than I ever have been or will be. Such knowledge does not diminish my soul but lifts me to praise you for the grace I know among them. I shall honor them for I stand in praise and awe of the life they bear. I will honor them because I love you, a love your own Spirit continues to give, all-too-often against my own will. I will honor them because I know: You wake them too with prayers of peace for your world. They are my brothers and sisters, my mothers and fathers. May we honor each other for the mystery we bear. Amen.
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