Today’s text
Luke 17:11-19
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed. Finding himself cured, one of them turned back praising God at the top of his voice and threw himself prostrate at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. The man was a Samaritan. This led Jesus to say, “Were not all ten made clean? The other nine, where are they? It seems that no one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.” And he said to the man, “Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you.”
Prayer
Salvation happens when our desire and yours meet, Dearest Friend. You want all to return to give thanks, to know you, to hear your blessing. Your heart is not complete, not at rest, until the missing nine appear. Only then is the primal connection of life complete, the divine intention fulfilled.
Your desire for us and our desire for you meet and dwell together in mutual harmony, completing the divine circle into which you draw all creation. Until then creation remains unfinished, human hearts unfilled.
So your heart rises as a bird, circling upon currents of Spirit, whispering to every heart, “Come close. Come close. Stand not far off. Fly to the heart of the universe. Love Itself eagerly awaits your return, ever watching for the other nine.”
You hunger for our nearness, and we die without yours. Your desire and ours, not two, but the voice of a single Spirit.
And the faith that saves? Is it not following the desire that brings us to you?
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Today’s text
Luke 17:11-19
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed. Finding himself cured, one of them turned back praising God at the top of his voice and threw himself prostrate at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. The man was a Samaritan. This led Jesus to say, “Were not all ten made clean? The other nine, where are they? It seems that no one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.” And he said to the man, “Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you.”
Prayer
“Don’t be surprised,” you say to me this morning. “Don’t be surprised when you find hearts that believe and souls open to my great giving. You will find gracious hearts in unexpected places where I have been working long before you arrived. Open your eyes; look. Don’t imagine you are alone. Many love me more than you can though they know and have far less than you.”
Your words are not harsh in my ears, Jesus. They humble me, and that is grace. You keep me from imagining that my faith, my way of thinking, believing and serving is somehow privileged above others. Your words remind me that I stand among millions, billions who bear your call, your mark of wounded love on their hearts.
And many of them are people I consider beneath me in experience or intelligence, in insight or sophistication. Many I might find uncouth or simple, holding the wrong opinions or politics, bearing such flaws of character and neuroses that make it easy to dismiss them, imagining I am superior.
But I am not. I am one more needy soul who cries to you in the morning for mercy, weary of my perennial sins, sick to death of the cracks in my character through which vitality and joy seep away.
I stand among the immense throng who need and call upon you. There are no foreigners in this crowd, no aliens, just people who, at their best, know the great truth: your grace crosses every boundary we establish. Try as we might, we can’t keep you from going where love pleases. Thank you for such gracious disrespect.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 17:11-19
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed. Finding himself cured, one of them turned back praising God at the top of his voice and threw himself prostrate at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. The man was a Samaritan. This led Jesus to say, “Were not all ten made clean? The other nine, where are they? It seems that no one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.” And he said to the man, “Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you.”
Prayer
“Don’t be surprised,” you say to me this morning. “Don’t be surprised when you find hearts that believe and souls open to my great giving. You will find gracious hearts in unexpected places where I have been working long before you arrived. Open your eyes; look. Don’t imagine you are alone. Many love me more than you can though they know and have far less than you.”
Your words are not harsh in my ears, Jesus. They humble me, and that is grace. You keep me from imagining that my faith, my way of thinking, believing and serving is somehow privileged above others. Your words remind me that I stand among millions, billions who bear your call, your mark of wounded love on their hearts.
And many of them are people I consider beneath me in experience or intelligence, in insight or sophistication. Many I might find uncouth or simple, holding the wrong opinions or politics, bearing such flaws of character and neuroses that make it easy to dismiss them, imagining I am superior.
But I am not. I am one more needy soul who cries to you in the morning for mercy, weary of my perennial sins, sick to death of the cracks in my character through which vitality and joy seep away.
I stand among the immense throng who need and call upon you. There are no foreigners in this crowd, no aliens, just people who, at their best, know the great truth: your grace crosses every boundary we establish. Try as we might, we can’t keep you from going where love pleases. Thank you for such gracious disrespect.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Today’s text
Luke 17:11-19
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed. Finding himself cured, one of them turned back praising God at the top of his voice and threw himself prostrate at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. The man was a Samaritan. This led Jesus to say, “Were not all ten made clean? The other nine, where are they? It seems that no one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.” And he said to the man, “Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you.”
Prayer
Is it praise that saves us from ourselves, Holy Darkness? Does praise push us to our knees and lift us to the heights of humanity? Is adoration the central mark of a faith that dwells in gratitude, knowing life and breath, freedom and joy are gifts flowing from the impenetrable depths of your goodness?
If so, let my morning praise rise to you that, I too, may be the human soul, the heart of flesh, you intend. Thank you for the gratitude of my unseeing eyes. I cannot penetrate your mystery. I understand nothing of what you must be. Yet at the break of day I stand before you wanting to be no nowhere else, knowing you are love, my silent lips giving praise for the wonder of that singular awareness.
Thank you, I say again. I have nothing else to bring.
Blessed Jesus, you are the face of the Impenetrable Darkness no eye can behold. In your joy in healing, in your hope that all will draw close to receive what you would give, I perceive the love no heart can contain. The beauty of your face casts me into the dirt and lifts me that truest humanity known only by hearts filled with gratitude. Thank you for making me a human … being.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 17:11-19
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed. Finding himself cured, one of them turned back praising God at the top of his voice and threw himself prostrate at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. The man was a Samaritan. This led Jesus to say, “Were not all ten made clean? The other nine, where are they? It seems that no one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.” And he said to the man, “Stand up and go on your way. Your faith has saved you.”
Prayer
Is it praise that saves us from ourselves, Holy Darkness? Does praise push us to our knees and lift us to the heights of humanity? Is adoration the central mark of a faith that dwells in gratitude, knowing life and breath, freedom and joy are gifts flowing from the impenetrable depths of your goodness?
If so, let my morning praise rise to you that, I too, may be the human soul, the heart of flesh, you intend. Thank you for the gratitude of my unseeing eyes. I cannot penetrate your mystery. I understand nothing of what you must be. Yet at the break of day I stand before you wanting to be no nowhere else, knowing you are love, my silent lips giving praise for the wonder of that singular awareness.
Thank you, I say again. I have nothing else to bring.
Blessed Jesus, you are the face of the Impenetrable Darkness no eye can behold. In your joy in healing, in your hope that all will draw close to receive what you would give, I perceive the love no heart can contain. The beauty of your face casts me into the dirt and lifts me that truest humanity known only by hearts filled with gratitude. Thank you for making me a human … being.
Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, October 15, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Today’s text
Luke 17:11-14
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed.
Prayer
I notice the immediacy your care, Jesus, and of my neediness--though I try hard to deny it.
I, too, stand far off. But unlike those bereft of self and its resources, I soldier on, keeping the necessities of life adequately together. But all the while I hope for something more, something far beyond the soul numbing routines required just to get by.
Not so with the ten who, seeing you, called immediately for mercy. They have nothing of their own to commend them, nothing to make them acceptable to the powers that be. I, on the other hand, live with the illusion that self justification is possible. I remain enrapt in the fantasy that I can create the depth of heart and peace that I crave, birthing the soul that whispers in my depths.
So I do not immediately fly into the arms of your mercy. I trust the strength of human mind and heart: “If I could work a bit harder, try this, do that, be more serious about my disciplines … then I would enter the home for which my heart hungers.”
But I never enter until, disgusted with myself, I surrender. Giving up my illusions and efforts, I plea for the mercy brimming in your divine heart: Take pity, dear Friend. Take pity on a fool who forgets the truth of his own soul.
I am made for you. I come to life only in the presence of a love I can neither control nor summon. Today, may I seek with all my heart that which your heart is so eager to give.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 17:11-14
Now it happened that on the way to Jerusalem Jesus was traveling in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee. As he entered one of the villages, ten men suffering from a virulent skin disease came to meet him. They stood some way off and called to him, “Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.” When he saw them he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Now as they were going away they were cleansed.
Prayer
I notice the immediacy your care, Jesus, and of my neediness--though I try hard to deny it.
I, too, stand far off. But unlike those bereft of self and its resources, I soldier on, keeping the necessities of life adequately together. But all the while I hope for something more, something far beyond the soul numbing routines required just to get by.
Not so with the ten who, seeing you, called immediately for mercy. They have nothing of their own to commend them, nothing to make them acceptable to the powers that be. I, on the other hand, live with the illusion that self justification is possible. I remain enrapt in the fantasy that I can create the depth of heart and peace that I crave, birthing the soul that whispers in my depths.
So I do not immediately fly into the arms of your mercy. I trust the strength of human mind and heart: “If I could work a bit harder, try this, do that, be more serious about my disciplines … then I would enter the home for which my heart hungers.”
But I never enter until, disgusted with myself, I surrender. Giving up my illusions and efforts, I plea for the mercy brimming in your divine heart: Take pity, dear Friend. Take pity on a fool who forgets the truth of his own soul.
I am made for you. I come to life only in the presence of a love I can neither control nor summon. Today, may I seek with all my heart that which your heart is so eager to give.
Pr. David L. Miller
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