Today’s text
Luke 24:28-35
When they drew near to the village to which they were going, [Jesus] made as if to go on; but they pressed him to stay with them saying, 'It is nearly evening, and the day is almost over.' So he went in to stay with them. Now while he was with them at table, he took the bread and said the blessing; then he broke it and handed it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; but he had vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, 'Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?' They set out that instant and returned to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven assembled together with their companions, who said to them, 'The Lord has indeed risen and has appeared to Simon.' Then they told their story of what had happened on the road and how they had recognized him at the breaking of bread.
Prayer
The truth of this moment echoes through the ages, my risen Friend. I have sat at tables with friends, a circle of human souls whose hearts were open to share bread and life. As the wine poured, conversation became communion, glistening with a grace ancient and true.
And I knew this is the life you intend. This is the glory of your life. This makes and keeps us human. This moment is shadowed by eternity. And my heart involuntarily gave thanks for the advance view of what you have in mind, what will be when we all share your life.
I know you at such tables, Jesus. I know you beyond word and concept as truest intuition of eternity. And I need to know nothing more, no sermons or instruction, no long words in longer books or symbols in glass, no mediated understandings. For nothing captures the intimate knowing of such moments, nothing but an open heart.
Hearts set afire by you at tables of holy intimacy and eternal generosity: that is what you make of us at your table of feasting, and every table of such blessed generosity and welcome is yours, a glistening moment of startling revelation, eternity in time.
So may it be for us today and every day. For it is there that you smile and say, “Welcome home.”
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Friday, April 04, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Today’s text
Luke 24:25-32
Then Jesus said to them, 'You foolish men! So slow to believe all that the prophets have said! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer before entering into his glory?' Then, starting with Moses and going through all the prophets, he explained to them the passages throughout the scriptures that were about himself. When they drew near to the village to which they were going, he made as if to go on; but they pressed him to stay with them saying, 'It is nearly evening, and the day is almost over.' So he went in to stay with them. Now while he was with them at table, he took the bread and said the blessing; then he broke it and handed it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; but he had vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, 'Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?'
Prayer
Stay with us Jesus. We don’t do very well without you.
A wave of anxiety certainly rushed through your Emmaus friends as you were taking your leave, going your way. I can feel it even now all these centuries later, for I share it. It is mine too.
Stay with us. Don’t leave us. Didn’t our hearts burn when we were with this mysterious stranger. And Jesus, you are always a stranger to us. Who can understand you?
But we do understand the joy of your presence, the bliss of your nearness. We understand the heavy weights of soul that fly away, lighter than air, in moments when we know you as close as our breath.
We know the love that enfolds us, evaporates our fears and bears us back into our worlds brimming with courage and gentleness. This is well known. Saints and martyrs and even schlumps like me have known your risenness, and prayed: Stay with us.
It is a prayer you create and honor, containing everything necessary.
So, my dearest Friend, stay. Stay even when we must take leave from each other. We need you more than we can say.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 24:25-32
Then Jesus said to them, 'You foolish men! So slow to believe all that the prophets have said! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer before entering into his glory?' Then, starting with Moses and going through all the prophets, he explained to them the passages throughout the scriptures that were about himself. When they drew near to the village to which they were going, he made as if to go on; but they pressed him to stay with them saying, 'It is nearly evening, and the day is almost over.' So he went in to stay with them. Now while he was with them at table, he took the bread and said the blessing; then he broke it and handed it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; but he had vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, 'Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?'
Prayer
Stay with us Jesus. We don’t do very well without you.
A wave of anxiety certainly rushed through your Emmaus friends as you were taking your leave, going your way. I can feel it even now all these centuries later, for I share it. It is mine too.
Stay with us. Don’t leave us. Didn’t our hearts burn when we were with this mysterious stranger. And Jesus, you are always a stranger to us. Who can understand you?
But we do understand the joy of your presence, the bliss of your nearness. We understand the heavy weights of soul that fly away, lighter than air, in moments when we know you as close as our breath.
We know the love that enfolds us, evaporates our fears and bears us back into our worlds brimming with courage and gentleness. This is well known. Saints and martyrs and even schlumps like me have known your risenness, and prayed: Stay with us.
It is a prayer you create and honor, containing everything necessary.
So, my dearest Friend, stay. Stay even when we must take leave from each other. We need you more than we can say.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Today’s text
Luke 24:18-24
Then one of them, called Cleopas, answered him, 'You must be the only person staying in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have been happening there these last few days.' [Jesus] asked, 'What things?' They answered, 'All about Jesus of Nazareth, who showed himself a prophet powerful in action and speech before God and the whole people; and how our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and had him crucified. Our own hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free. And this is not all: two whole days have now gone by since it all happened; and some women from our group have astounded us: they went to the tomb in the early morning, and when they could not find the body, they came back to tell us they had seen a vision of angels who declared he was alive. Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing.'
Prayer
Sad words, Jesus: “Our own hope had been …. Past tense, over and done.
We had hoped that he would set us free. It is hard to know their precise meaning. Did they want you to cast out the Romans occupiers? Establish a new order where everyone would rest secure under their own olive tree and each walk the street in safety and peace?
Two thousand years separate me from them Jesus, but they are barely a breath away. Not even that. They are human as I, and flesh, craving freedom for body and soul. They seek a wide and open space where their hearts might swell and breathe the fullness of this mystery we call life.
It is an old desire, Jesus, as ancient as the everlasting hills. And it finds fulfillment in seeing you. You open that wide space where we might live free as free souls.
Your first friends knew that. They knew the freedom and hope that spring to life in your nearness. It is not surprising that their hearts should leap at a silly tale of angels and resurrection. They had hoped you were the one who brings freedom, even from the final threat all life must face.
You had liberated their hope to fly that high. And mine.
Liberate our hope, dearest Friend. Free our souls to seek you even in the dead places of life where it seems nothing can live.
Open that wide and open space where we might breathe.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 24:18-24
Then one of them, called Cleopas, answered him, 'You must be the only person staying in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have been happening there these last few days.' [Jesus] asked, 'What things?' They answered, 'All about Jesus of Nazareth, who showed himself a prophet powerful in action and speech before God and the whole people; and how our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and had him crucified. Our own hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free. And this is not all: two whole days have now gone by since it all happened; and some women from our group have astounded us: they went to the tomb in the early morning, and when they could not find the body, they came back to tell us they had seen a vision of angels who declared he was alive. Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing.'
Prayer
Sad words, Jesus: “Our own hope had been …. Past tense, over and done.
We had hoped that he would set us free. It is hard to know their precise meaning. Did they want you to cast out the Romans occupiers? Establish a new order where everyone would rest secure under their own olive tree and each walk the street in safety and peace?
Two thousand years separate me from them Jesus, but they are barely a breath away. Not even that. They are human as I, and flesh, craving freedom for body and soul. They seek a wide and open space where their hearts might swell and breathe the fullness of this mystery we call life.
It is an old desire, Jesus, as ancient as the everlasting hills. And it finds fulfillment in seeing you. You open that wide space where we might live free as free souls.
Your first friends knew that. They knew the freedom and hope that spring to life in your nearness. It is not surprising that their hearts should leap at a silly tale of angels and resurrection. They had hoped you were the one who brings freedom, even from the final threat all life must face.
You had liberated their hope to fly that high. And mine.
Liberate our hope, dearest Friend. Free our souls to seek you even in the dead places of life where it seems nothing can live.
Open that wide and open space where we might breathe.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Today’s text
Luke 24:13-17
Now that very same day, two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking together about all that had happened. And it happened that as they were talking together and discussing it, Jesus himself came up and walked by their side; but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. He said to them, 'What are all these things that you are discussing as you walk along?' They stopped, their faces downcast.
Prayer
Why, my Lord? Why should they be kept from seeing you, the balm for our aching eyes? It is as if you prevented them from seeing. Or is this simply a way of saying they were still unable to see?
It seems clear, though, that they were kept from recognizing you. But if so, you kept them from seeing a presence that could not endure to reveal a presence that will endure to the end of earthly days.
So you kept them in the dark until they should see light. And there they struggled to understand what they had witnessed, your destruction and the collapse of their hopes.
It seems cruel. And my desire is to hurry to the happy end of the story where their eyes are open. But that would be false.
Truth is the waiting, the struggling, the confusion, the wanting. Yes, always the wanting for light to pierce the darkness of our hearts and minds that we may see and know you.
I don’t like the waiting struggle, my Risen Friend. But that is where I live much of my time. It can become a downcast state. Still, I smile, and often, knowing it is you for whom I wait. That is the one knowledge your Emmaus friends did not yet have.
But I do. So I lift my eyes from earth’s sad dust. Soon enough, the time again will be right to see and recognize you. For your risen presence endures to the end of the age and the closing of my tired eyes.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 24:13-17
Now that very same day, two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking together about all that had happened. And it happened that as they were talking together and discussing it, Jesus himself came up and walked by their side; but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. He said to them, 'What are all these things that you are discussing as you walk along?' They stopped, their faces downcast.
Prayer
Why, my Lord? Why should they be kept from seeing you, the balm for our aching eyes? It is as if you prevented them from seeing. Or is this simply a way of saying they were still unable to see?
It seems clear, though, that they were kept from recognizing you. But if so, you kept them from seeing a presence that could not endure to reveal a presence that will endure to the end of earthly days.
So you kept them in the dark until they should see light. And there they struggled to understand what they had witnessed, your destruction and the collapse of their hopes.
It seems cruel. And my desire is to hurry to the happy end of the story where their eyes are open. But that would be false.
Truth is the waiting, the struggling, the confusion, the wanting. Yes, always the wanting for light to pierce the darkness of our hearts and minds that we may see and know you.
I don’t like the waiting struggle, my Risen Friend. But that is where I live much of my time. It can become a downcast state. Still, I smile, and often, knowing it is you for whom I wait. That is the one knowledge your Emmaus friends did not yet have.
But I do. So I lift my eyes from earth’s sad dust. Soon enough, the time again will be right to see and recognize you. For your risen presence endures to the end of the age and the closing of my tired eyes.
Pr. David L. Miller
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