Friday, June 22, 2012

Today’s text

Mark 4:37-40

Then it began to blow a great gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, 'Master, do you not care? We are lost!' And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Quiet now! Be calm!' And the wind dropped, and there followed a great calm. Then he said to them, 'Why are you so frightened? Have you still no faith?'

Reflection

Jesus saw what no eye could see when he stood and looked into the night. He woke from sleep into awareness of the face of the darkness.



I see that face even now, the curve of the cheek, the dark eyes that always see, the countenance unchanged when winds blow and human souls tremble.
Before and just above the bow of the boat hovers the dark face of eternal presence and constant compassion, hovering over the stormy waters, eyes gazing upon the fearful disciples … and me, never turning away.

I see, and the soul grows quiet and calm. Tears come, for I know all I need to know. I, too, see the face of the darkness, the One ever there.

Jesus lived in constant awareness of an eternal face turned ever toward him. He called that face “Father,” for he knew it as gentle and caring, strong and unwavering.

When he laid down in the rocking boat this awareness was the cushion on which he laid his head. He rested in peace, his heart calm because he knew the face does not turn away when he closed his eyes to sleep.

He knew that when he awoke he would open his eyes and look into the face of Eternal Compassion, the Constant Presence who was there waiting for him to begin his day. Each day he gazed into the eyes of Infinite Mercy, eyes that always gazed upon him with unspeakable tenderness.

On this bright and promising morning, I look into those eyes and glimpse the contours of that great and gracious face. It’s invisible to the physical eye. But the imagination of faith has eyes to see the face of the darkness even in impenetrable night when fierce winds blow and human souls tremble.


And in seeing we hear a voice, “Peace, be still,” and we know what we need to know.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Today’s text
Mark 4:37-40

Then it began to blow a great gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, 'Master, do you not care? We are lost!' And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Quiet now! Be calm!' And the wind dropped, and there followed a great calm. Then he said to them, 'Why are you so frightened? Have you still no faith?'
Reflection
An elderly person I know tells me, “Whether I live or whether I die there is someone waiting for me.”

Hers’ are eyes of faith. She looks beyond what is happening in the moment to what the moment will bring.

Illness or death, healing or renewed life: there’s someone waiting no matter what comes. I know she is speaking of friends in this life and a husband and friends who have passed into eternity.

But her words carry a double meaning. They echo with the Presence of One who says, “Peace, be still. I wait for you in every new moment, in every fresh morning, in every storm that comes your way.”

Whatever else the day brings, Holy One, it holds you. The tempest of the hour, the challenge of the day, the work and faces we meet, all of it … holds you.

But it also hides you. The surface noise of the now distracts our anxious vision from the Presence of the Love who abides, who waits for us in every future.

Jesus rests in this awareness and invites us to lay our worried heads, our anxious minds, our troubled hearts on the cushion of this certainty. He does not say, “Look at me.”

He says, “See what I see. Hear what I hear. Live where I live.”

He sees and hears the Love who always whispers, “Do not fear. Ever. Love waits for you in every time, every place.”

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Today’s text


Mark 4:37-40

Then it began to blow a great gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, 'Master, do you not care? We are lost!' And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Quiet now! Be calm!' And the wind dropped, and there followed a great calm. Then he said to them, 'Why are you so frightened? Have you still no faith?'

Reflection

Jesus’ command was not really spoken to the wind and the waves. It is spoken to us. He invites us into the awareness in which he rests amid the storm.

“Peace, be still,” he says, but stillness cannot come when our hearts have two eyes.

We live with one eye focused on the tumult of living and the anxieties of the day, while our other eye looks warily at God, wondering, “Are you there? Do you care? Can you help?’

Only a single eye, a singular focus brings peace, an eye open to God, steadily gazing into the heart of Love who made us for love and in love holds each moment.

Storms come; winds blow, and we fear. We fear losing that which is most essential to our life and happiness. We fear what the future might bring, what it will inevitably bring and what we cannot control.

But the storms are temporary; the love is eternal. Storms operate on the surface of consciousness; the Love abides deep in the heart.

So we descend into the depths. We sink beneath the surface of noise of the now into awareness of an abiding, creative, ever-present love who breathes us into existence each moment, though we do not ask and cannot control its breathing.

Love abides beneath the noise and anxieties of the day. It breathes, “Peace, be still.”

Jesus dwells in this awareness. It is the cushion on which he lays his head. He is the living embodiment of the life to which we are called but which escapes us because we do not see with a single eye focused on the One unchanging amid the storm, the Love who always … is, and always will be.

May we see with one eye … and find peace … this day.
Pr. David L. Miller