Today’s text
Matthew 21:6-11
So the disciples went and did as Jesus had told them. They brought the donkey and the colt, then they laid their cloaks on their backs and he took his seat on them. Great crowds of people spread their cloaks on the road, while others were cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in his path. The crowds who went in front of him and those who followed were all shouting: Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil as people asked, 'Who is this?' and the crowds answered, 'This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.'
Prayer
I look. I watch. And desire is awakened. To be with them, bowing down, spreading my coat on the road before you with dozens of denizens of this all-too-human race: There I am, in my place of belonging.
Bowing in humble reverence before your approach, I find myself, my heart, my home. And the soul grows quiet, needing nothing.
The scene reduces me to truest identity: one soul among many, humbly offering such small service, a silent act of humble worship filled whole by the sum of all that I am.
Bending down on the road, crumpled coat at my feet, I would smooth out the wrinkles that it may lay even and low as you pass, feeling nothing but greatest honor and joy that you should tread on my coat, the sacred emblem of a soul who loves you. And needs you.
Receive my worship; hear my silent praise as I stand dumb in wonder at the glory you are. For my soul does not ask who you are. I know. And there is no knowledge more blessed.
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Friday, March 14, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Today’s text
Matthew 21:6-9
So the disciples went and did as Jesus had told them. They brought the donkey and the colt, then they laid their cloaks on their backs and he took his seat on them. Great crowds of people spread their cloaks on the road, while others were cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in his path. The crowds who went in front of him and those who followed were all shouting: Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord!
Prayer
Yes, most blessed. My heart clambers for you. For you my spirit cries out with a voice vast as the sky. My silent heart restlessly calls in the morning, stirred by the craving of a thousand ages, speaking the desire as everlasting as the ancient hills you walked.
Come.
Come, you who bear the name of the Lord. Come bearing the secret source and resting place of the world’s anxious soul. Come convince our hearts that you want to come to us, to me, to be for us that secret someone without whom we cannot truly live.
Come.
Come and quiet the primeval protests of our souls insisting, as they do, that there must be more, something, someone who can answer the incessant question for which we have no words.
Come.
Come and free us from the agitation of our unsatisfied searching. Come, and our hearts will fly open and call out with a voice vast as the sky, ‘Hosanna. You do come, and to us. Let us see you, and know ourselves for the first time.’
Come, Hosanna, love us with that love only eternity knows.
Pr. David L. Miller
Matthew 21:6-9
So the disciples went and did as Jesus had told them. They brought the donkey and the colt, then they laid their cloaks on their backs and he took his seat on them. Great crowds of people spread their cloaks on the road, while others were cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in his path. The crowds who went in front of him and those who followed were all shouting: Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord!
Prayer
Yes, most blessed. My heart clambers for you. For you my spirit cries out with a voice vast as the sky. My silent heart restlessly calls in the morning, stirred by the craving of a thousand ages, speaking the desire as everlasting as the ancient hills you walked.
Come.
Come, you who bear the name of the Lord. Come bearing the secret source and resting place of the world’s anxious soul. Come convince our hearts that you want to come to us, to me, to be for us that secret someone without whom we cannot truly live.
Come.
Come and quiet the primeval protests of our souls insisting, as they do, that there must be more, something, someone who can answer the incessant question for which we have no words.
Come.
Come and free us from the agitation of our unsatisfied searching. Come, and our hearts will fly open and call out with a voice vast as the sky, ‘Hosanna. You do come, and to us. Let us see you, and know ourselves for the first time.’
Come, Hosanna, love us with that love only eternity knows.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Today’s text
Matthew 21:1-5
When they were near Jerusalem and had come to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, ‘Go to the village facing you, and you will at once find a tethered donkey and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, you are to say, “The Master needs them and will send them back at once.” ‘This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet: Say to the daughter of Zion: Look, your king is approaching, humble and riding on a donkey and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.
Prayer
We wander into far countries of thought and emotion, humoring the internal dragons of our nature, feeding and indulging them. The thoughts we think, the words and scenes we play out in our minds: these, we know.
And we know our ways are not yours. Our indulgent angers and passions for personal victory over others are self-defensive tactics, protecting us from fears and wounds we refuse to face. And we continue to flee them, even when we know you await us precisely at the point of our fears. You are there, pleading, ‘come.’
How do you come to people like us, Jesus, the wandering wayward whose thoughts, plans and emotions are far from you?
Humble, you approach, refusing to stand on ceremony or principle. You come with grace and in grace. You offer God’s kindest embrace, and you offer it in utter gracefulness, not in disgust for what we make of ourselves and our souls.
You approach not in righteous indignation. That is our way. You draw near, seeking to melt our souls in the molten love of eternity that refuses to condemn, even me.
So let us hear and heed the voice of your humble wonder, for you ride on, silently whispering, “Come. Come near and know a love you will never understand. Come, and I will make you human.”
Pr. David L. Miller
Matthew 21:1-5
When they were near Jerusalem and had come to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, ‘Go to the village facing you, and you will at once find a tethered donkey and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, you are to say, “The Master needs them and will send them back at once.” ‘This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet: Say to the daughter of Zion: Look, your king is approaching, humble and riding on a donkey and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.
Prayer
We wander into far countries of thought and emotion, humoring the internal dragons of our nature, feeding and indulging them. The thoughts we think, the words and scenes we play out in our minds: these, we know.
And we know our ways are not yours. Our indulgent angers and passions for personal victory over others are self-defensive tactics, protecting us from fears and wounds we refuse to face. And we continue to flee them, even when we know you await us precisely at the point of our fears. You are there, pleading, ‘come.’
How do you come to people like us, Jesus, the wandering wayward whose thoughts, plans and emotions are far from you?
Humble, you approach, refusing to stand on ceremony or principle. You come with grace and in grace. You offer God’s kindest embrace, and you offer it in utter gracefulness, not in disgust for what we make of ourselves and our souls.
You approach not in righteous indignation. That is our way. You draw near, seeking to melt our souls in the molten love of eternity that refuses to condemn, even me.
So let us hear and heed the voice of your humble wonder, for you ride on, silently whispering, “Come. Come near and know a love you will never understand. Come, and I will make you human.”
Pr. David L. Miller
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