Today’s text
Luke 5:8-11
When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, 'Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.' For he and all his companions were completely awestruck at the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. But Jesus said to Simon, 'Do not be afraid; from now on it is people you will be catching. Then, bringing their boats back to land they left everything and followed him.
Reflection
At the end, what do I want to have done? Who do I want to have followed?
When all my time here is memory and few moments of earth’s sweet air remain for me, what do I want to be able to say, “This I have given? This I have thought. This I have loved. This I present to you, Jesus.”
They left everything and followed you, these few fishermen. Perhaps I should feel shame in the face of such self-giving, for I give so little. But I do not. Nor do I believe you want such feelings, despite the guilt your followers stir in themselves for no good purpose.
Joy and desire color my heart, not guilt or shame. I want the joy of giving each act and word, each hour and day to the love you are. And I want to do it mindfully, aware and present to each moment.
I want to rise above unconscious living, little thinking of how this moment can be lived in and for you. I want my mind to leave everything else to follow you so that in each moment, this is all that matters.
Yes, I know: I want a life beyond those lived by your first friends, this Simon, James and John. They were unconscious most of the time, and they followed you not knowing, not being aware of much of anything, except that being with you was better than being without you.
But they left everything to follow, and this stirs joy and desire in me to do the same in my own way and time. For I am little different from them, slightly more conscious, I suppose.
But I, too, know that being with you is better than being without you. And each time my mind wanders away to thoughts and motives other than your love, it enters a netherworld so monochrome and draining compared to the bright joy of knowing you near.
So keep calling to me when I wander. Call me from my meandering thoughts, my wild hare impulses, my self-indulgent narcissism and self-important posturing.
Call me to leave them all, even if you must call me a million times and more. I will keep leaving them, again and again, until the day I when all here is done for me, and I can say, “This I have done; you, I have loved.”
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Friday, February 05, 2010
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Today’s text
Luke 5:8-11
When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, 'Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.' For he and all his companions were completely awestruck at the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. But Jesus said to Simon, 'Do not be afraid; from now on it is people you will be catching. Then, bringing their boats back to land they left everything and followed him.
Reflection
A first act of courage is here, the first steps from a mind of fear to … well, they didn’t know. They did not know where they were going or what might happen. They had not idea what was just beginning.
But as they left their boats the way of fear was ending for them. This journey would take the rest of their lives and then some.
It’s that way for all of us, Jesus. You invite us beyond the mind of fear to a new mind, a new consciousness, a new way of seeing and being. Uneducated fishermen take their early steps on this way by being intrigued or amazed enough to follow you into the unknown.
They wanted to be near whatever you had, to hear whatever you might say, to see whatever you might do and to know whoever you are … because being with you was better than being anywhere without you.
This much they knew … and little else. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was following, being with you.
In your presence the fear, the anxiety, the dead clay that weighs our spirits all fall away, as we find, to our amazement, that we are children of God’s abundant delight, whom the Father favors with grace everlasting and inexhaustible.
You knew this, Jesus. And when this awareness sinks into our minds, into our being and bearing, other souls feel lighter and more alive in our presence, captured by the life that is you.
Fill me with all that you are. Grant me your own mind, Jesus, that with the Christ mind I may live beyond my fears and with such joy that hearts may be warmed by your nearness, even in the likes of me.
I know; it’s a journey. You don’t arrive all at once. It takes a lifetime and then some. But today, may I take a few steps on the way.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 5:8-11
When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, 'Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.' For he and all his companions were completely awestruck at the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. But Jesus said to Simon, 'Do not be afraid; from now on it is people you will be catching. Then, bringing their boats back to land they left everything and followed him.
Reflection
A first act of courage is here, the first steps from a mind of fear to … well, they didn’t know. They did not know where they were going or what might happen. They had not idea what was just beginning.
But as they left their boats the way of fear was ending for them. This journey would take the rest of their lives and then some.
It’s that way for all of us, Jesus. You invite us beyond the mind of fear to a new mind, a new consciousness, a new way of seeing and being. Uneducated fishermen take their early steps on this way by being intrigued or amazed enough to follow you into the unknown.
They wanted to be near whatever you had, to hear whatever you might say, to see whatever you might do and to know whoever you are … because being with you was better than being anywhere without you.
This much they knew … and little else. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was following, being with you.
In your presence the fear, the anxiety, the dead clay that weighs our spirits all fall away, as we find, to our amazement, that we are children of God’s abundant delight, whom the Father favors with grace everlasting and inexhaustible.
You knew this, Jesus. And when this awareness sinks into our minds, into our being and bearing, other souls feel lighter and more alive in our presence, captured by the life that is you.
Fill me with all that you are. Grant me your own mind, Jesus, that with the Christ mind I may live beyond my fears and with such joy that hearts may be warmed by your nearness, even in the likes of me.
I know; it’s a journey. You don’t arrive all at once. It takes a lifetime and then some. But today, may I take a few steps on the way.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Today’s text
Luke 5:3-10
When he had finished speaking he said to Simon, 'Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.' Simon replied, 'Master, we worked hard all night long and caught nothing, but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.' And when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear, so they signaled to their companions in the other boat to come and help them; when these came, they filled both boats to sinking point. When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, 'Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.' For he and all his companions were completely awestruck at the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. But Jesus said to Simon, 'Do not be afraid; from now on it is people you will be catching.'
Reflection
“Do not be afraid.” How many times do those words appear on your lips, Jesus? How many times in all of Scripture?
It is as if this were the central truth we must know. Forget all else. Remember this: There is no reason for fear.
Life is uncontrollable. Unexpected and painful things will happen. Friends will forget and betray you. Work once meaningful will drain your soul. Youth, health and strength will fade. Threats from without and within will come.
But don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. All you are and all you have, all you hope and all you fear rests in the infinite abundance of the Father’s heart. Know this, and fear is gone.
There is such a contrast between you, Jesus, and those who surround you. Anxious crowds push nearer to hear, and you take to a boat. The fishermen doubt anything good can happen after a long night’s labor gains nothing. But you quietly direct them to deep water.
Amazed, they struggle at the nets to gather the catch. You stand silently in the background, watching. I wonder, do you smile at the startling abundance they haul in?
Peter confesses his unworthiness and the discomfort of being in your presence, a presence he cannot possibly understand. His eyes are fixed squarely on himself.
Wrong place. Everyone in the story dwells in the wrong place. Their hearts rest in their emptiness, their need, their inadequacy, their anxiety about having and being enough. Little wonder they are amazed when abundance appears.
But you are not surprised, Jesus. No amazement appears on your face or in your voice. You dwell in perfect peace, knowing the infinite abundance of the divine heart is always enough … and always will be.
May my mind dwell with yours, Jesus. May all your children share your peace.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 5:3-10
When he had finished speaking he said to Simon, 'Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.' Simon replied, 'Master, we worked hard all night long and caught nothing, but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.' And when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear, so they signaled to their companions in the other boat to come and help them; when these came, they filled both boats to sinking point. When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, 'Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.' For he and all his companions were completely awestruck at the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's partners. But Jesus said to Simon, 'Do not be afraid; from now on it is people you will be catching.'
Reflection
“Do not be afraid.” How many times do those words appear on your lips, Jesus? How many times in all of Scripture?
It is as if this were the central truth we must know. Forget all else. Remember this: There is no reason for fear.
Life is uncontrollable. Unexpected and painful things will happen. Friends will forget and betray you. Work once meaningful will drain your soul. Youth, health and strength will fade. Threats from without and within will come.
But don’t worry. Don’t be afraid. All you are and all you have, all you hope and all you fear rests in the infinite abundance of the Father’s heart. Know this, and fear is gone.
There is such a contrast between you, Jesus, and those who surround you. Anxious crowds push nearer to hear, and you take to a boat. The fishermen doubt anything good can happen after a long night’s labor gains nothing. But you quietly direct them to deep water.
Amazed, they struggle at the nets to gather the catch. You stand silently in the background, watching. I wonder, do you smile at the startling abundance they haul in?
Peter confesses his unworthiness and the discomfort of being in your presence, a presence he cannot possibly understand. His eyes are fixed squarely on himself.
Wrong place. Everyone in the story dwells in the wrong place. Their hearts rest in their emptiness, their need, their inadequacy, their anxiety about having and being enough. Little wonder they are amazed when abundance appears.
But you are not surprised, Jesus. No amazement appears on your face or in your voice. You dwell in perfect peace, knowing the infinite abundance of the divine heart is always enough … and always will be.
May my mind dwell with yours, Jesus. May all your children share your peace.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Tuesday, February, 2, 2010
Today’s text
Luke 5:2-6
Jesus got into one of the boats -- it was Simon's -- and asked him to put out a little from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking he said to Simon, 'Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.' Simon replied, 'Master, we worked hard all night long and caught nothing, but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.' And when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear … .
Reflection
“If you say so … .” I doubt Peter’s words were spoken eagerly, as if he were itching to pull at the oars and lug the nets over the gunnels of the boat after a long night of wasted effort. Food and a nap in the heat of the day were far more attractive.
“But if you say so, Jesus, … we’ll do it again.”
That’s what I hear, resistance to hard work that already proved fruitless.
My body feels that on some days, but not today, despite the enervation of energy from my limbs. Perhaps it is an oncoming cold, perhaps just a snowy winter Monday resting heavy on my shoulders.
But despite these aching muscles I remain quietly unwilling to surrender to the voice that says it doesn’t matter, the work, that is--the commitment and effort required to stay faithful to the duties of the day. There are calls to be made, promises to keep, appointments to make, plus letters to write, scattered papers on the desk and yes, prayers for human pains likely to cross my path.
Who knows how many there will be? It’s still early.
The voice that asks, does any of this really matter, never fully goes away. I hear it as I step from the shower and dry my head. But the question doesn’t drag me into its gravity. It lacks power to discourage or stop me from taking the next step into the day.
This has nothing to do with the strength of my will or the courage of my resolve. I learned long ago not to depend too much on those.
I go, stepping into the duties of the day because you, Jesus, tell me to do it all again. Take care of the detail, pray with the people, make the calls and keep the appointments. Throw out the nets because … well, you never know.
Unexpected graces come. You need to be there to catch them.
Pr. David L. Miller
Luke 5:2-6
Jesus got into one of the boats -- it was Simon's -- and asked him to put out a little from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking he said to Simon, 'Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.' Simon replied, 'Master, we worked hard all night long and caught nothing, but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.' And when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear … .
Reflection
“If you say so … .” I doubt Peter’s words were spoken eagerly, as if he were itching to pull at the oars and lug the nets over the gunnels of the boat after a long night of wasted effort. Food and a nap in the heat of the day were far more attractive.
“But if you say so, Jesus, … we’ll do it again.”
That’s what I hear, resistance to hard work that already proved fruitless.
My body feels that on some days, but not today, despite the enervation of energy from my limbs. Perhaps it is an oncoming cold, perhaps just a snowy winter Monday resting heavy on my shoulders.
But despite these aching muscles I remain quietly unwilling to surrender to the voice that says it doesn’t matter, the work, that is--the commitment and effort required to stay faithful to the duties of the day. There are calls to be made, promises to keep, appointments to make, plus letters to write, scattered papers on the desk and yes, prayers for human pains likely to cross my path.
Who knows how many there will be? It’s still early.
The voice that asks, does any of this really matter, never fully goes away. I hear it as I step from the shower and dry my head. But the question doesn’t drag me into its gravity. It lacks power to discourage or stop me from taking the next step into the day.
This has nothing to do with the strength of my will or the courage of my resolve. I learned long ago not to depend too much on those.
I go, stepping into the duties of the day because you, Jesus, tell me to do it all again. Take care of the detail, pray with the people, make the calls and keep the appointments. Throw out the nets because … well, you never know.
Unexpected graces come. You need to be there to catch them.
Pr. David L. Miller
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