Today’s reading
Philippians 1:21
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil. 1:21).
Prayer
There are days I cannot wait to praise you. Awakened from the sweet joy of a good rest, I rise into a world where you are, and I have all I need to have and know all I need to know. Eagerly, I descend the stairs to sit in this chair, anticipating words unthought and unimagined that will wing me again into the wonder that you are, the illimitable and all-encompassing love from which we all come and to which we all go.
I am born anew, fully alive in You who inhabit this corner of the basement and all reality. To be here, presence to Presence, to know as lovers know, is to live. The chattering ego with its banal demand to be taken seriously evaporates in such union, an insubstantial vapor, a fog of illusion constantly mistaken for the real. You are real, knowing the love you are is life.
I know Paul spoke of his physical death and return to you as he wrote these words; “to die is gain.” But dying to the drivel of power, status, image, wealth and all which postures as life-givers, that, too, is gain. Mere mirage they are, hiding the substance of the Eternal, the love that labors secretly in the impenetrable abyss of being itself.
But all this is beyond me. I but know the blessed face of that hidden love, and it is yours, my Jesus. Let me this day be the breath of beauty and grace that you are. Amen.
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Friday, September 22, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:21
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil. 1:21).
Prayer
There are days I cannot wait to praise you. Awakened from the sweet joy of a good rest, I rise into a world where you are, and I have all I need to have and know all I need to know. Eagerly, I descend the stairs to sit in this chair, anticipating words unthought and unimagined that will wing me again into the wonder that you are, the illimitable and all-encompassing love from which we all come and to which we all go.
I am born anew, fully alive in You who inhabit this corner of the basement and all reality. To be here, presence to Presence, to know as lovers know, is to live. The chattering ego with its banal demand to be taken seriously evaporates in such union, an insubstantial vapor, a fog of illusion constantly mistaken for the real. You are real, knowing the love you are is life.
I know Paul spoke of his physical death and return to you as he wrote these words; “to die is gain.” But dying to the drivel of power, status, image, wealth and all which postures as life-givers, that, too, is gain. Mere mirage they are, hiding the substance of the Eternal, the love that labors secretly in the impenetrable abyss of being itself.
But all this is beyond me. I but know the blessed face of that hidden love, and it is yours, my Jesus. Let me this day be the breath of beauty and grace that you are. Amen.
Philippians 1:21
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil. 1:21).
Prayer
There are days I cannot wait to praise you. Awakened from the sweet joy of a good rest, I rise into a world where you are, and I have all I need to have and know all I need to know. Eagerly, I descend the stairs to sit in this chair, anticipating words unthought and unimagined that will wing me again into the wonder that you are, the illimitable and all-encompassing love from which we all come and to which we all go.
I am born anew, fully alive in You who inhabit this corner of the basement and all reality. To be here, presence to Presence, to know as lovers know, is to live. The chattering ego with its banal demand to be taken seriously evaporates in such union, an insubstantial vapor, a fog of illusion constantly mistaken for the real. You are real, knowing the love you are is life.
I know Paul spoke of his physical death and return to you as he wrote these words; “to die is gain.” But dying to the drivel of power, status, image, wealth and all which postures as life-givers, that, too, is gain. Mere mirage they are, hiding the substance of the Eternal, the love that labors secretly in the impenetrable abyss of being itself.
But all this is beyond me. I but know the blessed face of that hidden love, and it is yours, my Jesus. Let me this day be the breath of beauty and grace that you are. Amen.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:21-24
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil. 1:21-24).
Prayer
You wake me again from the little death of sleep simply because you delight to make good and beautiful beings come to life and grow—and know you. It is your delight that I should live, that I should be and be here. It is your delight that I should know you as the blessed and beautiful face of life itself. You wake me to this awareness because you cherish all that you have made, every life, every universe … and me. You cherish me. Accept my amazement. It rises before you, a hymn of praise, bubbling from depths of a soul surprised that you should take such delight in me.
Knowing this, knowing you is life. Already this day I have known you in the gentle laughter of those who gather around me to share memory and insight. Their joy floats and fills the room, a rising sweet incense permeating the air and all space about us with the holy goodness of being joined to others who know and cherish you.
This life you invite me to, it is not life alone is it, dear Friend? It is life with souls such as these before whom I stand in awe, speechless at the beauty you are pleased to take in them. To live is to know this beauty, to live is to know that I, too, am joined with them in this wonder, this beauty that you delight in giving also to me. Amen.
Philippians 1:21-24
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil. 1:21-24).
Prayer
You wake me again from the little death of sleep simply because you delight to make good and beautiful beings come to life and grow—and know you. It is your delight that I should live, that I should be and be here. It is your delight that I should know you as the blessed and beautiful face of life itself. You wake me to this awareness because you cherish all that you have made, every life, every universe … and me. You cherish me. Accept my amazement. It rises before you, a hymn of praise, bubbling from depths of a soul surprised that you should take such delight in me.
Knowing this, knowing you is life. Already this day I have known you in the gentle laughter of those who gather around me to share memory and insight. Their joy floats and fills the room, a rising sweet incense permeating the air and all space about us with the holy goodness of being joined to others who know and cherish you.
This life you invite me to, it is not life alone is it, dear Friend? It is life with souls such as these before whom I stand in awe, speechless at the beauty you are pleased to take in them. To live is to know this beauty, to live is to know that I, too, am joined with them in this wonder, this beauty that you delight in giving also to me. Amen.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:18b-21
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil 1:21).
Prayer
To what do you invite me, O Life of all the living? What is here for me in words that stir my soul from sleep in the small hours? Lightness fills body and soul with freedom and tears though the dawn is but a smug on the horizon. For I am here with you.
Most of the time I am elsewhere. My uncentered and untethered heart wanders the Earth from place to place, task to task, person to person, caught in the rushing current of belligerent ‘musts.’ I am not stayed on you, on your love for me and for all that is. You only ask me to come, to stay, to listen, to tether my heart to your own no matter where I go.
And when I am with you, I am alive. Death has no hold, nor anxiety or even the rush of living that is a kind of death in which I refuse the gift of your life. All these are replaced by a gentle lightness of being--of being with you, in you--where I live a life I know nowhere else. I am encompassed by the all-encompassing Love you are.
And though alone, I am not alone. For there in the still silence of your love is all that is, all with whom I share life and creation; every universe and cosmos is there, down to the most infinitesimal particles of the real. All of it, all of it loved, all of of it in you, as I am in you.
This is living. All else is shadow. You are life, Blessed One. To live is to know you. To die is to die into the love whom you are. What more could I need or want? Amen.
Philippians 1:18b-21
“For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain” (Phil 1:21).
Prayer
To what do you invite me, O Life of all the living? What is here for me in words that stir my soul from sleep in the small hours? Lightness fills body and soul with freedom and tears though the dawn is but a smug on the horizon. For I am here with you.
Most of the time I am elsewhere. My uncentered and untethered heart wanders the Earth from place to place, task to task, person to person, caught in the rushing current of belligerent ‘musts.’ I am not stayed on you, on your love for me and for all that is. You only ask me to come, to stay, to listen, to tether my heart to your own no matter where I go.
And when I am with you, I am alive. Death has no hold, nor anxiety or even the rush of living that is a kind of death in which I refuse the gift of your life. All these are replaced by a gentle lightness of being--of being with you, in you--where I live a life I know nowhere else. I am encompassed by the all-encompassing Love you are.
And though alone, I am not alone. For there in the still silence of your love is all that is, all with whom I share life and creation; every universe and cosmos is there, down to the most infinitesimal particles of the real. All of it, all of it loved, all of of it in you, as I am in you.
This is living. All else is shadow. You are life, Blessed One. To live is to know you. To die is to die into the love whom you are. What more could I need or want? Amen.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:18b-20
“Yes, I will continue to rejoice ... . It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or death” (Phil. 1:18b,20).
Prayer
Life with you is so daily. I wake and my thoughts are with you. But sometimes I do not want to pray or praise you, O Maker of the morning. Nor do I want to work. My desire is single, simple and self-serving. I want to rest in you, in blessed assurance that as surely as the day is--you are, and though I rest you are working out your love, even in me.
So what do I expect today? If you labor, what shall I expect you to do today, in me and among us? Too often the anxieties of the day sap my joy and filter my expectation so that I am more ready to think the worst than anticipate blessing. My hair-trigger heart stands alert to receive every ripple of resistance or cynicism, trouble or frustration.
Why, most Faithful Friend, should I assume such a posture when you invite me to live in precinct of inviolable promise, your promise?
Paul lived in that blessed land, and his words pull me there. Amid the grayness of his prison cell, his comforts were few, his future uncertain and his control over his days nonexistent. Yet, he expected not shame but the blessing that your beloved life would be exalted in him for your revelation and his joy.
I want to live in this way. Today, my brother, invite me to live in the sweep of your promise to complete--in me, in us, in this and every universe--the love with which you love us. Today, let me live expecting to know you, blessed Christ, and to exalt you in each encounter, for you are here and our confidence is in you alone. Amen.
Philippians 1:18b-20
“Yes, I will continue to rejoice ... . It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or death” (Phil. 1:18b,20).
Prayer
Life with you is so daily. I wake and my thoughts are with you. But sometimes I do not want to pray or praise you, O Maker of the morning. Nor do I want to work. My desire is single, simple and self-serving. I want to rest in you, in blessed assurance that as surely as the day is--you are, and though I rest you are working out your love, even in me.
So what do I expect today? If you labor, what shall I expect you to do today, in me and among us? Too often the anxieties of the day sap my joy and filter my expectation so that I am more ready to think the worst than anticipate blessing. My hair-trigger heart stands alert to receive every ripple of resistance or cynicism, trouble or frustration.
Why, most Faithful Friend, should I assume such a posture when you invite me to live in precinct of inviolable promise, your promise?
Paul lived in that blessed land, and his words pull me there. Amid the grayness of his prison cell, his comforts were few, his future uncertain and his control over his days nonexistent. Yet, he expected not shame but the blessing that your beloved life would be exalted in him for your revelation and his joy.
I want to live in this way. Today, my brother, invite me to live in the sweep of your promise to complete--in me, in us, in this and every universe--the love with which you love us. Today, let me live expecting to know you, blessed Christ, and to exalt you in each encounter, for you are here and our confidence is in you alone. Amen.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Monday, September 18, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:18b-20
“It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or death” (Phil. 1:20).
Prayer
What I do I expect, Faithful One? What do I eagerly await, assured that you attend your promises as a mother watches her wobbly toddler, ready to fulfill her vow to be there at every bump and fall and crack in the sidewalk? You coax me beyond the shadow existence where every bet is hedged and every expectation is couched in ‘maybe.’ You lead me by the hand from the shallows into deep water where my feet no longer find the bottom but must swim in the fluid currents of divine promises and purposes which take me to places I fear.
And you whisper, “believe, trust. You will not be put to shame but will exalt the life that I am in your mortal flesh.” So I hope, and more: I expect. That is the radical form of faith to which you invite, a faith that risks disappointment and disaster, a faith that breaks through the tough, gray cocoon of self-protection to play in the stunning light of day.
This is my prayer: To live no longer in the gray safety of small expectations but in vibrant assurance that I may know you in making known the loving wonder whom you are. Let me enter each moment, each situation, each encounter, expecting to encounter and exalt you. Each moment of my life exits for you and for your exaltation. This is what time is for. This is what I am for: to know you and make you known, living in eager expectation to know your love, your life, the wonder you are. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the chapel, Cornelsen director of spiritual formation
Philippians 1:18b-20
“It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be put to shame in any way, but that by speaking with all boldness, Christ will be exalted now as always in my body, whether by life or death” (Phil. 1:20).
Prayer
What I do I expect, Faithful One? What do I eagerly await, assured that you attend your promises as a mother watches her wobbly toddler, ready to fulfill her vow to be there at every bump and fall and crack in the sidewalk? You coax me beyond the shadow existence where every bet is hedged and every expectation is couched in ‘maybe.’ You lead me by the hand from the shallows into deep water where my feet no longer find the bottom but must swim in the fluid currents of divine promises and purposes which take me to places I fear.
And you whisper, “believe, trust. You will not be put to shame but will exalt the life that I am in your mortal flesh.” So I hope, and more: I expect. That is the radical form of faith to which you invite, a faith that risks disappointment and disaster, a faith that breaks through the tough, gray cocoon of self-protection to play in the stunning light of day.
This is my prayer: To live no longer in the gray safety of small expectations but in vibrant assurance that I may know you in making known the loving wonder whom you are. Let me enter each moment, each situation, each encounter, expecting to encounter and exalt you. Each moment of my life exits for you and for your exaltation. This is what time is for. This is what I am for: to know you and make you known, living in eager expectation to know your love, your life, the wonder you are. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the chapel, Cornelsen director of spiritual formation
Friday, September 15, 2006
Friday, Sept. 15, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:15-18
“Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will. These proclaim Christ out of love, … the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition … . But what does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motves or true; and in that I rejoice” (Phil. 1:15-16a, 17a, 18).
Prayer
Dearest One, you bless me this day. I cross the street, gentled by an autumn sun. Warm and kind, it instantly drives off any musty doubts about the goodness of being alive. At my side walks a friend, also soaking in the golden goodness of this sparkling day. Pleased as I am by your sun, Blessed Friend, I am more warmed by the companionship of the one who walks with me, who loves you as much or more than I am capable.
Thank you for this privilege. I cannot take it for granted. Your great and holy ones often dwelt without the gentle presence of those who shared their love of you. They lived the labor of loneliness, facing resistance, knowing well that others wished them ill, distracted and distressed by those who used your blessed gospel to satisfy selfish ambitions and consuming conceits.
We, too, know such temptation. We are not always able to celebrate the blessings, successes and victories of others. Self interest, confining ideologies and concern for control corral our hearts and keep us from the one good thing: that you, blessed Friend, be known on Earth..
Grant that our eyes may focus on you alone that we may rejoice that you are made known in myriad ways, through many hearts, in millions of places, even though some may trouble us. And grant true gratitude for the privilege of living among those who love you. Amen.
Philippians 1:15-18
“Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will. These proclaim Christ out of love, … the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition … . But what does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motves or true; and in that I rejoice” (Phil. 1:15-16a, 17a, 18).
Prayer
Dearest One, you bless me this day. I cross the street, gentled by an autumn sun. Warm and kind, it instantly drives off any musty doubts about the goodness of being alive. At my side walks a friend, also soaking in the golden goodness of this sparkling day. Pleased as I am by your sun, Blessed Friend, I am more warmed by the companionship of the one who walks with me, who loves you as much or more than I am capable.
Thank you for this privilege. I cannot take it for granted. Your great and holy ones often dwelt without the gentle presence of those who shared their love of you. They lived the labor of loneliness, facing resistance, knowing well that others wished them ill, distracted and distressed by those who used your blessed gospel to satisfy selfish ambitions and consuming conceits.
We, too, know such temptation. We are not always able to celebrate the blessings, successes and victories of others. Self interest, confining ideologies and concern for control corral our hearts and keep us from the one good thing: that you, blessed Friend, be known on Earth..
Grant that our eyes may focus on you alone that we may rejoice that you are made known in myriad ways, through many hearts, in millions of places, even though some may trouble us. And grant true gratitude for the privilege of living among those who love you. Amen.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Thursday, Sept. 14, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:12-15
“I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has actually helped to spread the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my imprisonment is for Christ; and most of the brothers and sisters having been made confident in the Lord by my imprisonment dare to speak the word with greater boldness and without fear” (Phil 1:12-15).
Prayer
What matters, dear Friend? What should live at the center of my heart so that nothing and no one can displace it? Around what axis should everything turn? Paul’s words draw me. He is centered, full of joy and focused on one thing—making you known. He remains determined, undeterred by hardship and suffering. Those, it seems, do not matter.
What matters is that you, heart of my heart, are exalted, glorified, made known to friend and foe. Joy flows from this core condition of the heart: in all, may you be known, and may you be known in all.
I want this joy, dear Friend, the joy of having you—the exuberant heart of all reality—at the center of my heart. But grant, first, clear awareness of what most matters: that you O Holy Mystery, blest Christ, be known whatever else happens to me this day. This most matters, for you are life, you are joy and wonder, you are the clear and blessed face of eternity. To know you is to have all we need to live fully and with joy. This day, may we know you. That will be enough for us. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:12-15
“I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has actually helped to spread the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my imprisonment is for Christ; and most of the brothers and sisters having been made confident in the Lord by my imprisonment dare to speak the word with greater boldness and without fear” (Phil 1:12-15).
Prayer
What matters, dear Friend? What should live at the center of my heart so that nothing and no one can displace it? Around what axis should everything turn? Paul’s words draw me. He is centered, full of joy and focused on one thing—making you known. He remains determined, undeterred by hardship and suffering. Those, it seems, do not matter.
What matters is that you, heart of my heart, are exalted, glorified, made known to friend and foe. Joy flows from this core condition of the heart: in all, may you be known, and may you be known in all.
I want this joy, dear Friend, the joy of having you—the exuberant heart of all reality—at the center of my heart. But grant, first, clear awareness of what most matters: that you O Holy Mystery, blest Christ, be known whatever else happens to me this day. This most matters, for you are life, you are joy and wonder, you are the clear and blessed face of eternity. To know you is to have all we need to live fully and with joy. This day, may we know you. That will be enough for us. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:1-11
“For all of you share in God’s grace with me ... . And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight ... so that on the day of Christ, you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God” (Phil. 1:7, 9-11).
Prayer
The day is drear, O Keeper of the Colors. But your grace remains, vibrant and varied, coloring creation and every life with precision. Each bears particular expression of the love you are and glorifies you by being itself.
Is this the harvest or righteousness we bear, Holy One? Do we glorify you by being that expression that your blessed life is pleased to shape in us through the constellation of histories and inheritances we did not choose? Does the love whom you are yield its harvest by being known in our mortal, fallible lives?
If so, accept my amazement--and my thanks that the life I live may bear something more than the anxieties that stir the idle, foolish and poisonous words that drip from my lips. Thank you that I may yield more in this life than the defensiveness and self-concern that leave so little room in me for anything but me.
I am tired of me. I weary of the drabness of life on my own terms, my days depleted by the same gray fears and worries. I long for colors of your life that lift all constriction and allow me to breathe free. Animate my drear flesh with the vibrance of your love. Complete in me your holy and blessed image, train me for holiness, that the little corner of the world I inhabit may be brighter for the light you are, more gracious for the love that is your nature, brimming with hope in you who leave no promise unfilled.
Glory to you. You are the colors of life beyond measure. You privilege me with the life you are. Accept my morning praise. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:1-11
“For all of you share in God’s grace with me ... . And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight ... so that on the day of Christ, you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God” (Phil. 1:7, 9-11).
Prayer
The day is drear, O Keeper of the Colors. But your grace remains, vibrant and varied, coloring creation and every life with precision. Each bears particular expression of the love you are and glorifies you by being itself.
Is this the harvest or righteousness we bear, Holy One? Do we glorify you by being that expression that your blessed life is pleased to shape in us through the constellation of histories and inheritances we did not choose? Does the love whom you are yield its harvest by being known in our mortal, fallible lives?
If so, accept my amazement--and my thanks that the life I live may bear something more than the anxieties that stir the idle, foolish and poisonous words that drip from my lips. Thank you that I may yield more in this life than the defensiveness and self-concern that leave so little room in me for anything but me.
I am tired of me. I weary of the drabness of life on my own terms, my days depleted by the same gray fears and worries. I long for colors of your life that lift all constriction and allow me to breathe free. Animate my drear flesh with the vibrance of your love. Complete in me your holy and blessed image, train me for holiness, that the little corner of the world I inhabit may be brighter for the light you are, more gracious for the love that is your nature, brimming with hope in you who leave no promise unfilled.
Glory to you. You are the colors of life beyond measure. You privilege me with the life you are. Accept my morning praise. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Director of Spiritual Formation
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Tuesday, Sept. 12, 2006
Today’s reading 
Philippians 1:3-7
“For all of you share in God’s grace with me” (Phil. 1:7).
Prayer
I sat with a soul the other day, Dear Friend, truly a soul. He told me of watching the sun rise after being awake all night, caring for a family in the hospital. Even on this gray day I can see the image. Orange and yellow, purple with praise, a confident and insistent sun filled the 10th floor windows from beneath the horizon, carrying souls into a new day after an intense night of sorrow and care.
Despite Earth’s weary sadness, the sunrise transfused hearts with a hope whose source was far greater than the turning of the Earth on its ancient axis. The light was revelation of a grace that invites us forward to see what will be: “Come and see,” you say, Gracious One. “Do not fear. For whatever else will be, I will be. I am the Living One. I will be surrounding and engulfing, bathing you with the insistence of the new morning.”
We sat and listened not only to his story, but to you, who have taught us to love, and to love you most of all. Without knowing what was happening or where we were going, we entered a holy communion in the love whom you are, a graced unity in your life, a joy you grant just as certainly as you give the morning. This communion in your love is your gift and more: It is the future into which you draw all things. May we taste the harvest of your future even now, and especially in hearts with whom we share your life. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:3-7
“For all of you share in God’s grace with me” (Phil. 1:7).
Prayer
I sat with a soul the other day, Dear Friend, truly a soul. He told me of watching the sun rise after being awake all night, caring for a family in the hospital. Even on this gray day I can see the image. Orange and yellow, purple with praise, a confident and insistent sun filled the 10th floor windows from beneath the horizon, carrying souls into a new day after an intense night of sorrow and care.
Despite Earth’s weary sadness, the sunrise transfused hearts with a hope whose source was far greater than the turning of the Earth on its ancient axis. The light was revelation of a grace that invites us forward to see what will be: “Come and see,” you say, Gracious One. “Do not fear. For whatever else will be, I will be. I am the Living One. I will be surrounding and engulfing, bathing you with the insistence of the new morning.”
We sat and listened not only to his story, but to you, who have taught us to love, and to love you most of all. Without knowing what was happening or where we were going, we entered a holy communion in the love whom you are, a graced unity in your life, a joy you grant just as certainly as you give the morning. This communion in your love is your gift and more: It is the future into which you draw all things. May we taste the harvest of your future even now, and especially in hearts with whom we share your life. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Monday, September 11, 2006
Monday, Sept. 11, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:9-11
“And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you determine what is best …” (Phil. 1:9-10a).
Prayer
What do you give us, O Maker of the Morning? What is you pleasure for us this day? Much of the time we have no idea what we most need. Turing to you we discover that you have only one thing to give: the life that you are. Your life is that stream of love that flows from your exuberant unity in the hidden darkness of eternity into our little moment of time, seeking to fill all that is—and us.
Your pleasure is our fullness. Your joy is that we overflow with the love you are. Do we ever experience this, dearest Friend? I think so. There are moments when there seems no room left in me for anything but you, for you have driven everything else out. I am filled, complete, wanting and needing nothing, joyous beyond all sorrow, my soul filled yet with room for a multitude, fresh and new yet possessing a transcending wisdom that only love knows, aware of myself yet lifted above the ravenous energies of ego.
In such moments, your divine pleasure for us is clear, however temporary the time this filling might seem. But for that moment I am certain: You will complete us. You will not quit until it is done. You will not abandon your divine desire until you have filled our emptiness with the life you have long delivered to your great and holy ones. Fill us this day with that love that that leaves no room for anything else. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:9-11
“And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you determine what is best …” (Phil. 1:9-10a).
Prayer
What do you give us, O Maker of the Morning? What is you pleasure for us this day? Much of the time we have no idea what we most need. Turing to you we discover that you have only one thing to give: the life that you are. Your life is that stream of love that flows from your exuberant unity in the hidden darkness of eternity into our little moment of time, seeking to fill all that is—and us.
Your pleasure is our fullness. Your joy is that we overflow with the love you are. Do we ever experience this, dearest Friend? I think so. There are moments when there seems no room left in me for anything but you, for you have driven everything else out. I am filled, complete, wanting and needing nothing, joyous beyond all sorrow, my soul filled yet with room for a multitude, fresh and new yet possessing a transcending wisdom that only love knows, aware of myself yet lifted above the ravenous energies of ego.
In such moments, your divine pleasure for us is clear, however temporary the time this filling might seem. But for that moment I am certain: You will complete us. You will not quit until it is done. You will not abandon your divine desire until you have filled our emptiness with the life you have long delivered to your great and holy ones. Fill us this day with that love that that leaves no room for anything else. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Director of Spiritual Formation
Friday, September 08, 2006
Friday, Sept. 8, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:6-11
“For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:8).
Prayer
I don’t think I can remember a time, my Friend, when my soul was not lonely. I can’t remember a time when I did not long for a knowing love to break into my isolation, recognize the hollowness of my heart and yet refuse to recoil. And always I wondered: Is this loneliness mine alone, or the truth hiding behind every human eye?
I long for you. I long for a savior, who knows me, my fear, my lostness, yet who cherishes me and fills me with a love that ever and always is for me, with me, in me. Only this can save me from myself, from the shame and fear in which I resist the blessed communion of souls into which you have invited me all my life.
You ceaselessly invite me beyond constant loneliness into the community of love that you gather around yourself. I want--I need--to be immersed in a communion of sharing life and your precious gospel where I may know you and the love, immortal and immeasurable, whom you are.
Dearest One, this day let me know you, hold you, savor you in sharing a communion with others who love and need you as I do. Place a guard on my tongue that I may not speak harsh or idle words that seek an unholy communion with other souls based on mutual criticism and judgments of other whom you also Lovelace me ever beyond my loneliness into the communion of of your love. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:6-11
“For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:8).
Prayer
I don’t think I can remember a time, my Friend, when my soul was not lonely. I can’t remember a time when I did not long for a knowing love to break into my isolation, recognize the hollowness of my heart and yet refuse to recoil. And always I wondered: Is this loneliness mine alone, or the truth hiding behind every human eye?
I long for you. I long for a savior, who knows me, my fear, my lostness, yet who cherishes me and fills me with a love that ever and always is for me, with me, in me. Only this can save me from myself, from the shame and fear in which I resist the blessed communion of souls into which you have invited me all my life.
You ceaselessly invite me beyond constant loneliness into the community of love that you gather around yourself. I want--I need--to be immersed in a communion of sharing life and your precious gospel where I may know you and the love, immortal and immeasurable, whom you are.
Dearest One, this day let me know you, hold you, savor you in sharing a communion with others who love and need you as I do. Place a guard on my tongue that I may not speak harsh or idle words that seek an unholy communion with other souls based on mutual criticism and judgments of other whom you also Lovelace me ever beyond my loneliness into the communion of of your love. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Thursday, Sept. 7, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:1-7
“I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6).
Prayer
Hope blossoms in these early days, my Lord. Assurance fills me with clear awareness that I am not alone, cut off, cast away. The nagging nihilism of despair that sometimes haunts has been tested and found false. That ancient fear is trampled under foot as I see the labor of those around me and know: It all matters. It all counts. It will not fail or fall incomplete, discarded pieces of a project that never bore fruit.
My hope is not the result of rational process, nor even the product of good work I see among saints around me. It is the natural effluence, the living flow released in the soul by the knowledge and experience of you. Knowing you, the energies of confidence, joy, assurance, creative power and love flow from depths of soul I can neither summon nor control. You give a certainty, a confidence beyond reason, confidence in you: in your beauty, your grace, your good will, your determination to bring the beauty you are to completion in the lives of those who love you.
In this good work, I know the goodness of the Worker. In the graces of the graced, I know the One who is grace. In the beauty of the given souls, I see you who are Beauty. In every act of love, I know the One who is Love. In their companionship, I know the Holy Companion who never departs from me. In their wisdom and care, I know you whose name is Eternal Wisdom and Unending Compassion. And that is enough for me. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:1-7
“I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6).
Prayer
Hope blossoms in these early days, my Lord. Assurance fills me with clear awareness that I am not alone, cut off, cast away. The nagging nihilism of despair that sometimes haunts has been tested and found false. That ancient fear is trampled under foot as I see the labor of those around me and know: It all matters. It all counts. It will not fail or fall incomplete, discarded pieces of a project that never bore fruit.
My hope is not the result of rational process, nor even the product of good work I see among saints around me. It is the natural effluence, the living flow released in the soul by the knowledge and experience of you. Knowing you, the energies of confidence, joy, assurance, creative power and love flow from depths of soul I can neither summon nor control. You give a certainty, a confidence beyond reason, confidence in you: in your beauty, your grace, your good will, your determination to bring the beauty you are to completion in the lives of those who love you.
In this good work, I know the goodness of the Worker. In the graces of the graced, I know the One who is grace. In the beauty of the given souls, I see you who are Beauty. In every act of love, I know the One who is Love. In their companionship, I know the Holy Companion who never departs from me. In their wisdom and care, I know you whose name is Eternal Wisdom and Unending Compassion. And that is enough for me. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Director of Spiritual Formation
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Wednesday, Sept. 6, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:1-5
“I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now” (Phil. 1:3-5).
Prayer
The parade grows longer every year, dear Friend. A long line of souls, saints all, marches through my heart, each one shining like the stars, afire with a far light greater than their own. Each stirs the prayer that I, too, may be animated by the flow of joy and life that bubbles from the dark spring of eternity and flows from their depths. I see their faces, and I name their lives before you as my morning act of praise, filled with gratitude for what you have done in them, and through them in me. I carry them with me wherever I go, though many of them have no idea of the divine blessing they bore (and bear) to hungry souls, like mine. Through them, you fill me and sharpen my vision that I may drink in your beauty--ever ancient, ever new--without which I do not live but merely exist.
In the living contours of those around me, I see hearts that know you. And in them, I know you. I taste the sweetness of your divine life. I savor the unspeakable beauty you are. I am filled with hope and restored by the energy of Life Itself. I discover the destination--the home--for which you intend me, and all. I thank you for them. I thank you that in them I know you, whom I need more than anything else. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel,
Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:1-5
“I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now” (Phil. 1:3-5).
Prayer
The parade grows longer every year, dear Friend. A long line of souls, saints all, marches through my heart, each one shining like the stars, afire with a far light greater than their own. Each stirs the prayer that I, too, may be animated by the flow of joy and life that bubbles from the dark spring of eternity and flows from their depths. I see their faces, and I name their lives before you as my morning act of praise, filled with gratitude for what you have done in them, and through them in me. I carry them with me wherever I go, though many of them have no idea of the divine blessing they bore (and bear) to hungry souls, like mine. Through them, you fill me and sharpen my vision that I may drink in your beauty--ever ancient, ever new--without which I do not live but merely exist.
In the living contours of those around me, I see hearts that know you. And in them, I know you. I taste the sweetness of your divine life. I savor the unspeakable beauty you are. I am filled with hope and restored by the energy of Life Itself. I discover the destination--the home--for which you intend me, and all. I thank you for them. I thank you that in them I know you, whom I need more than anything else. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel,
Director of Spiritual Formation
Tuesday, Sept. 5, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:1-6
“I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ” (1:6).
Prayer
We begin again, dearest Friend. Some of us begin here for the first time, others for the last. The semester starts regardless of our moods or desires, whether we are ready or not. How would you have us begin? With confidence? With surety? There is little in us to make this truly possible, let alone sustainable. We know ourselves all too well to be brimming with confidence. But you invite us to an assurance that comes from knowing you, which is to know a love that never turns back. And you do not leave us without evidence.
The good work you have begun, the glow of faith, however faltering; the love we know in ourselves and in those lives that grace our own; the joy of hope stirred by the words of Scripture or an unsuspecting soul who has no idea how they have blessed us; the bread received at your table and at the tables of friends, which are also your table; the life, the growth, the taste of peace and patience you have given us—your gifts, all of them. Thank you. “Look at them,” you say. “You can’t begin to know what I have begun in you, but know this: I will bring it to fulfillment.” That alone is hope sufficient for the day. dearest Friend, let me know you so well this day that I may dwell in the joyous confidence of those who rest in the determination of your eternal love. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel,
Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Philippians 1:1-6
“I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ” (1:6).
Prayer
We begin again, dearest Friend. Some of us begin here for the first time, others for the last. The semester starts regardless of our moods or desires, whether we are ready or not. How would you have us begin? With confidence? With surety? There is little in us to make this truly possible, let alone sustainable. We know ourselves all too well to be brimming with confidence. But you invite us to an assurance that comes from knowing you, which is to know a love that never turns back. And you do not leave us without evidence.
The good work you have begun, the glow of faith, however faltering; the love we know in ourselves and in those lives that grace our own; the joy of hope stirred by the words of Scripture or an unsuspecting soul who has no idea how they have blessed us; the bread received at your table and at the tables of friends, which are also your table; the life, the growth, the taste of peace and patience you have given us—your gifts, all of them. Thank you. “Look at them,” you say. “You can’t begin to know what I have begun in you, but know this: I will bring it to fulfillment.” That alone is hope sufficient for the day. dearest Friend, let me know you so well this day that I may dwell in the joyous confidence of those who rest in the determination of your eternal love. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel,
Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
Praying the Mystery - the beginning...
Dear friends,
This school year I hope to offer a biblical reading and a prayer each weekday, Monday through Friday.
The readings will come from shorter New Testament writings, beginning with Paul’s letter to the Philippians. I will follow a lectio continuo method, continuous readings through the book. But I will move slowly, sometimes pausing to offer prayers for several days from one passage before moving on.
Each day I will quote a small portion of the text for the day, following with a prayer moved by the reading. You might keep a Bible nearby by to read the entire biblical reading appointed for the day.
I hope the biblical readings and prayers will stir your own prayers and continuing reflection throughout each day. Please read, reflect, speak your prayers and insights. Offer whatever the Spirit gives you, praise and petitions, confession or confusion, words or wonder. Then rest in the wonder of God’s loving presence.
I call this series Praying the mystery because our lives are a mystery hidden in a Love we can never fathom. In prayer we seek intimacy with the Love every heart desires and for which every life was made. There alone, we truly know ourselves—and the Loving Mystery who has treasured us since before the birth of time. We pray that we may see and know ourselves in Christ and be filled with the life he is pleased to share.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
This school year I hope to offer a biblical reading and a prayer each weekday, Monday through Friday.
The readings will come from shorter New Testament writings, beginning with Paul’s letter to the Philippians. I will follow a lectio continuo method, continuous readings through the book. But I will move slowly, sometimes pausing to offer prayers for several days from one passage before moving on.
Each day I will quote a small portion of the text for the day, following with a prayer moved by the reading. You might keep a Bible nearby by to read the entire biblical reading appointed for the day.
I hope the biblical readings and prayers will stir your own prayers and continuing reflection throughout each day. Please read, reflect, speak your prayers and insights. Offer whatever the Spirit gives you, praise and petitions, confession or confusion, words or wonder. Then rest in the wonder of God’s loving presence.
I call this series Praying the mystery because our lives are a mystery hidden in a Love we can never fathom. In prayer we seek intimacy with the Love every heart desires and for which every life was made. There alone, we truly know ourselves—and the Loving Mystery who has treasured us since before the birth of time. We pray that we may see and know ourselves in Christ and be filled with the life he is pleased to share.
Pr. David L. Miller
Dean of the Chapel, Cornelsen Director of Spiritual Formation
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