Friday, February 29, 2008

Friday, February 29, 2008

Today's text

John 9:11-16

He answered, 'The man called Jesus made a paste, daubed my eyes with it and said to me, ‘Go off and wash at Siloam;’ so I went, and when I washed I gained my sight.' They asked, 'Where is he?' He answered, 'I don't know.' They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. It had been a Sabbath day when Jesus made the paste and opened the man's eyes, so when the Pharisees asked him how he had gained his sight, he said, 'He put a paste on my eyes, and I washed, and I can see.' Then some of the Pharisees said, ‘That man cannot be from God: he does not keep the Sabbath.' Others said, 'How can a sinner produce signs like this?' And there was division among them.

Prayer

There are signs of your nearness that are unmistakable, Jesus. They cannot be faked or manufactured by act of will.

Joy is central among those signs. You appear, and there is joy. You heal, and there is joy. You stir this soul of mine in the morning hours, and I am lifted into unnatural joy.

Unnatural? Yes, for it is disconnected with and unrelated to any outward circumstances. It comes not in the absence of struggles but in their midst. I sense you near and all that weighs the soul evaporates in a sea of joyous Presence and liberty of soul.

There is no obvious word of joy for this man given his sight, but how could it be otherwise? You touched him and opened his eyes to the color of the world and the contour of your gracious face. Who can look on these and not know joy?

Well, there are some. Kill joys they are, who cannot abide the joy of hearts you exalt because it would mean the end of their systems and ascendancies, their power and their control. The hunger to destroy the joy of souls is also unmistakable. It is born of the enemy of our souls, your enemy, living also within us.

May your morning joy evict this assassin from our hearts. You made us for the liberty of joy in your presence. May our hearts brim with the unmistakable mark of your nearness.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Today's text

John 9:7-11

Having said this, [Jesus] spat on the ground, made a paste with the spittle, put this over the eyes of the blind man, and said to him, 'Go and wash in the Pool of Siloam' (the name means 'one who has been sent'). So he went off and washed and came back able to see. His neighbors and the people who used to see him before (for he was a beggar) said, 'Isn't this the man who used to sit and beg?' Some said, 'Yes, it is the same one.' Others said, 'No, but he looks just like him.' The man himself said, 'Yes, I am the one.' So they said to him, 'Then how is it that your eyes were opened?' He answered, 'The man called Jesus made a paste, daubed my eyes with it and said to me, "Go off and wash at Siloam"; so I went, and when I washed I gained my sight.'

Prayer

I am the man. The one who cannot see, the one healed, the one who is confused, the one who has no good answer for how it happened: I am the man.

I am startled by the joy of being illumined by unspeakable grace, no longer needing to wonder who or what has made me and thrown me into existence, no long wondering what Earth is for or what is intended for me, for all. No longer distracted by unanswerable questions that agitate the heart and keep me far from home.

I see you Jesus and am swept into the joy of knowing, not facts or ideas but Presence Abiding. All you are and intend is here for us, not in a long ago story but in revelation of what is … now.

You are the light of the world, the great work of the Loving Mystery no eye has seen. We see you and see what is, the love that envelops our lives in all things and times.

So let us see. Let us see you. And seeing you, let us see all that is and all we are floating in the sea of your eternal mercy.

Illumine our hearts.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Today's text

John 9:4-7

'As long as day lasts we must carry out the work of the one who sent me; the night will soon be here when no one can work. As long as I am in the world I am the light of the world.' Having said this, [Jesus] spat on the ground, made a paste with the spittle, put this over the eyes of the blind man, and said to him, 'Go and wash in the Pool of Siloam' (the name means 'one who has been sent'). So he went off and washed and came back able to see
.

Prayer

In seeing you, I see. All else is blindness.

So I look and what do I see? You send a blind man to wash his mud-caked eyes. It is a fitting metaphor for our normal sight. We are blinded by the encrusted accumulation of living, of sighing through the days, of tripping unaware over the wonder of our lives, of failing to reverence the holiness of every face we meet.

The day comes, and we foolishly imagine it is nothing special, not feeling the love that breathes us, not seeing the light in whose illumination all is hope and gift.

You are the light of the world, the light of the soul, the illumination of heart and mind in which we see and know ourselves and peer through the tangled enigmas of our existence to know, finally, that all is well.

You are light, and in you we see who made us and for what we are made. In your illumination, we glimpse the glory that is every human life and life itself. In the warmth of your glowing, we feel the destiny for which you intend us.

So let me look at you, Jesus, and see. All else is blindness.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, February 25, 2008

Monday, February 25, 2008

Today's text

John 9:1-3

As he went along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth. His disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he should have been born blind?' 'Neither he nor his parents sinned,' Jesus answered, 'he was born blind so that the works of God might be revealed in him.


Prayer

So that the works of God might be revealed: For what are we born if not this?

You liberate my heart, Jesus. Your words send me soaring. Great riddles are rendered insignificant. The enigma of suffering is transcended, no long tripping the mind or freezing the heart.

You ignore, too, the distinctions to which self-justifying ego cleaves; skill, intelligence, accomplishment, gender, race, status--they make no difference to you.

Nor, it seems, do the outward circumstances of our lives. Am I sick or well, strong or weak, comfortable or poor? Is my work hard or does it flow like water? Do my senses fail me, or are they sharp as when I was 21? Do I enjoy others favor or am I the object of disdain?

You make no distinction. Regardless of circumstances, I was born for this: that your works, Loving One, might be revealed in me.

Do you cause our weakness, our blindness, our sickness, our disrespect, our struggles, our failures of body and soul?

You do not answer, Jesus. You know: Our questions are mere side shows of human wondering. They distract from the center: I am here to do your works, to glorify your name, to lift high the love that lifts me.

Free us from unanswerable enigmas that our hearts may soar free and our lives may be filled with the works for which you made us.

Pr. David L. Miller