Today’s reading
Philippians 2:1-7
“If there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy ... . Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:1, 4-5).
Prayer
And this you would give me, your own mind? The thought of it alone brings tears. Shall I have the mind that knows the Eternal Wonder and speaks to the Unspeakable One as to dearest old friend? Shall I see the Beauty who kisses golden autumn days with crisp clarity and sparkling wonder? Shall I ache for the day when the eternal blessing for which all is intended absorbs every needy soul and mends every broken thing? Shall I hunger to be wholly given to that holy dream as are you in blessed completeness?
Dearest One, is this what it is to have your mind in my mortal flesh? Such is my hunger for you. I am too much with me. I long to live in you, knowing the substance of your being within my own, blessed Christ. I want to be filled with your greedy love that desires nothing less than all of me, a liquid compassion that seeks the vacant emptiness in the dark cylinder of my soul, pushing out all that is not itself. Then, only then shall your mind appear in its fullness in me. And I shall share in the beauty of the Eternal Wonder and in the insatiable longing for the healing of every wound and every death Earth has ever known.
But even now you keep your promise, and your mind appears in your people, and me. You fill us with a liquid grace that overflows our hearts, dissolving all shame and guilt, all anxiety and fear, so that with fresh eyes we see all that is. Then it is that there is no need to tell us to have your mind, to exhort us to do nothing from selfishness and conceit. For we are filled with you, in whose presence selfishness and conceit evaporate like so much morning mist. It is then that we know what it is to have your mind.
How does this happen, blessed Font of life? Do we ‘let’ your mind dwell us, or do you simply fill us with the impenetrable mystery and indivisible mercy whom you are? However it happens, may it happen to us today that we may see as you see and love as you love, for the sake of the world you cherish more than we can know. Amen.
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Friday, October 06, 2006
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Wednesday, October 4, 2006
Today's reading
Philippians 2:1-8
“If there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being of full accord and one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regards others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others” (Phil 2:1-4).
Prayer
If ... ? If there is any ... ? Shall I laugh now? If so, my laughter praises you in the darkness of morning. For you have turned my heart to an indestructible joy despite the melancholy that has always haunted me. Mine is the laughter of one who has known so little of you but just enough to know the consolation of an infinite compassion. My consolation is to live enveloped in an all encompassing love that embraces me even as the air gentles my flesh as I sit in this gray chair.
You, O Risen Love, humbly conform to the waywardness of my life and choices wrapping me in a cloak of divine mercy in every place and circumstance so that I cannot escape. Where can I go to flee you? Alive beyond the power of death, you cannot be contained by time and space but seek us in every time and space.
Is that any consolation, any compassion, any encouragement, or is it the eternal secret of an abundance only you can give?
May my smile praise you this day as no words can. It is the smile of one who knows the secret that frees from selfishness and conceit that even I may bear the love you are. Let it be so today. Amen.
Philippians 2:1-8
“If there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being of full accord and one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regards others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others” (Phil 2:1-4).
Prayer
If ... ? If there is any ... ? Shall I laugh now? If so, my laughter praises you in the darkness of morning. For you have turned my heart to an indestructible joy despite the melancholy that has always haunted me. Mine is the laughter of one who has known so little of you but just enough to know the consolation of an infinite compassion. My consolation is to live enveloped in an all encompassing love that embraces me even as the air gentles my flesh as I sit in this gray chair.
You, O Risen Love, humbly conform to the waywardness of my life and choices wrapping me in a cloak of divine mercy in every place and circumstance so that I cannot escape. Where can I go to flee you? Alive beyond the power of death, you cannot be contained by time and space but seek us in every time and space.
Is that any consolation, any compassion, any encouragement, or is it the eternal secret of an abundance only you can give?
May my smile praise you this day as no words can. It is the smile of one who knows the secret that frees from selfishness and conceit that even I may bear the love you are. Let it be so today. Amen.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Tuesday, October 3, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 2:1-4
“If there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being of full accord and one mind” (Phil. 2:1-2).
Prayer
Tell me Jesus, what was it like for you when you broke the loaves and fed the crowds? What was it like when you reached out your right hand and healed the leper kneeling in the dust before you? What went through you when you blessed the broken and saw divine life and hope fill the expectant hearts and hungry eyes of those who came to you? Was your joy complete? Did it fill you so that you could not imagine doing or desiring anything else?
I have known that ecstatic surge of joy and truth. Surely you must have too. But I can’t imagine what it was for you who, simultaneously, dwelt in intimacy, total union, with the unspeakable longing of the Blessed Mystery and the incessant hungers of human hearts. This was the place of your joy.
Can our joy ever be so complete? Can we live in exquisite unity with you and each other so that we are of one heart, one mind, given not to our Napoleonic selves but to immeasurable compassion of God, which is to say, to you?
Everything I touch seems infected with me, stained with self-seeking, calculated to assuage my anxieties. I grow sick of it. I hunger to lose myself in you, in the self-giving you are, in the reign of peace you bring, consumed by the mind you would make in me and in all.
Surely, I can neither know nor want the pain this might bring, but that Spirit you give cannot stop wanting you, drawing me to lose heart and mind, body and all their powers, in the love you are. That alone is joy complete, final freedom and fulfillment. It is to this that your Spirit draws me. Don’t stop, Jesus. I resist. But don’t stop. Amen.
Philippians 2:1-4
“If there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being of full accord and one mind” (Phil. 2:1-2).
Prayer
Tell me Jesus, what was it like for you when you broke the loaves and fed the crowds? What was it like when you reached out your right hand and healed the leper kneeling in the dust before you? What went through you when you blessed the broken and saw divine life and hope fill the expectant hearts and hungry eyes of those who came to you? Was your joy complete? Did it fill you so that you could not imagine doing or desiring anything else?
I have known that ecstatic surge of joy and truth. Surely you must have too. But I can’t imagine what it was for you who, simultaneously, dwelt in intimacy, total union, with the unspeakable longing of the Blessed Mystery and the incessant hungers of human hearts. This was the place of your joy.
Can our joy ever be so complete? Can we live in exquisite unity with you and each other so that we are of one heart, one mind, given not to our Napoleonic selves but to immeasurable compassion of God, which is to say, to you?
Everything I touch seems infected with me, stained with self-seeking, calculated to assuage my anxieties. I grow sick of it. I hunger to lose myself in you, in the self-giving you are, in the reign of peace you bring, consumed by the mind you would make in me and in all.
Surely, I can neither know nor want the pain this might bring, but that Spirit you give cannot stop wanting you, drawing me to lose heart and mind, body and all their powers, in the love you are. That alone is joy complete, final freedom and fulfillment. It is to this that your Spirit draws me. Don’t stop, Jesus. I resist. But don’t stop. Amen.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Monday, October 02, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 2:1:-4
“If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love … . Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves” (Phil. 2:1-3).
Prayer
Your blessed face, dearest Jesus, is holy invitation to the only life worthy of the word. “Do nothing from selfish ambition,” Paul writes, but it is your voice that I hear: “Come, enter my life. Find in me the life you were created to live.” There is no law here, only gracious invitation to be part of you, sharing your life, your love, your labor, your belovedness, your joy and sorrow.
Truest joy and sorrow are known not in selfish ambition and conceit but in being as given as you, surrendered to the eternal holy purpose of the Loving Mystery to whom you called in the night watches from the depth of your being. You desired nothing but the reign of God’s own peace. Wholly given to that divine desire, you are the very face of eternity, the blessed visage of the Holy One. I am honored to praise you with my first words of the day, giving first place to you who are worthy of all praise.
And you are pleased to dwell in me, laboring to shape your heart and mind deep in my stubborn flesh. For you do not ask what you do not first give. You invite what you work in us, this humility and grace, this gentleness and simplicity of heart in which, as you, we may know the joy of and love of being given to One who is Love. It is this that you desire for me. It is this that you desire in me. May my tears bless you forever. Amen.
Philippians 2:1:-4
“If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love … . Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves” (Phil. 2:1-3).
Prayer
Your blessed face, dearest Jesus, is holy invitation to the only life worthy of the word. “Do nothing from selfish ambition,” Paul writes, but it is your voice that I hear: “Come, enter my life. Find in me the life you were created to live.” There is no law here, only gracious invitation to be part of you, sharing your life, your love, your labor, your belovedness, your joy and sorrow.
Truest joy and sorrow are known not in selfish ambition and conceit but in being as given as you, surrendered to the eternal holy purpose of the Loving Mystery to whom you called in the night watches from the depth of your being. You desired nothing but the reign of God’s own peace. Wholly given to that divine desire, you are the very face of eternity, the blessed visage of the Holy One. I am honored to praise you with my first words of the day, giving first place to you who are worthy of all praise.
And you are pleased to dwell in me, laboring to shape your heart and mind deep in my stubborn flesh. For you do not ask what you do not first give. You invite what you work in us, this humility and grace, this gentleness and simplicity of heart in which, as you, we may know the joy of and love of being given to One who is Love. It is this that you desire for me. It is this that you desire in me. May my tears bless you forever. Amen.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:29-30
“For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well--since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have” (Phil.1:29-30).
Prayer
My Wounded Friend, thank you. For I am among those victories you have won in bitter woundedness. I am yours, and never do I want to be otherwise. Take and receive my heart’s desire as my morning praise to you. Your battered body greets me daily from the crucifix, my shoes echoing across the shale as they anxiously bear me to the day’s duties. You hang there, silent and dying, saying not a word yet speech pours forth day and night into the chapel’s dimness, and my heart hears.
“Fully given,” you whisper in the darkness. “Fully given.” There is no part of you unsurrendered to the blessed and holy dream of the One you call Father, and others call Mother, and I call Loving Mystery for that is what you are to me. But no name will do. They all collapse in abject defeat beneath the weight of the wonder you are. And I stand amazed at the fullness of your heart, surrendered to one holy purpose.
For your name is Fully Given. You are the face of the Eternal Wonder whose love is fully given to gathering up all the broken fragments of creation--and me--so that nothing is lost, so all that is finds its final home and fulfillment in your love, a love constantly poured into this dark chapel and every shadowed corner of creation.
And I hear you in the darkness: “Give all to me, and you will know the life of the One who is Life. Give all to me, and you will know my joy. Give all to me, and you will know what only saints can know: there is a love worth suffering for.” My Wounded Friend, this day, may I be as fully given as you. Amen.
Philippians 1:29-30
“For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well--since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have” (Phil.1:29-30).
Prayer
My Wounded Friend, thank you. For I am among those victories you have won in bitter woundedness. I am yours, and never do I want to be otherwise. Take and receive my heart’s desire as my morning praise to you. Your battered body greets me daily from the crucifix, my shoes echoing across the shale as they anxiously bear me to the day’s duties. You hang there, silent and dying, saying not a word yet speech pours forth day and night into the chapel’s dimness, and my heart hears.
“Fully given,” you whisper in the darkness. “Fully given.” There is no part of you unsurrendered to the blessed and holy dream of the One you call Father, and others call Mother, and I call Loving Mystery for that is what you are to me. But no name will do. They all collapse in abject defeat beneath the weight of the wonder you are. And I stand amazed at the fullness of your heart, surrendered to one holy purpose.
For your name is Fully Given. You are the face of the Eternal Wonder whose love is fully given to gathering up all the broken fragments of creation--and me--so that nothing is lost, so all that is finds its final home and fulfillment in your love, a love constantly poured into this dark chapel and every shadowed corner of creation.
And I hear you in the darkness: “Give all to me, and you will know the life of the One who is Life. Give all to me, and you will know my joy. Give all to me, and you will know what only saints can know: there is a love worth suffering for.” My Wounded Friend, this day, may I be as fully given as you. Amen.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:27-30
“Only, live your life in a manner worthy of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well” (Phil. 1:27-29).
Prayer
Silently, you speak in the soft glow of morning, O Eternal and Constant One. The day is born, alive in pinks and lavender with mountains of bulbous purple clouds resting their weight on the lake’s horizon. They signal with certainty that fall has come once more. The season’s insistent turn, assured and unyielding reminds me again that I am not.
So I turn again to you, Eternal Wonder. You alone are more certain than the morning. You are constant and firm, your love for me and all I see remains sure, amid the passing of days into seasons, and seasons into the years of my lifetime.
May I share in the constancy of your life and purpose? I long for you. I want my heart and my days to be marked by a calm and quiet confidence, resting in the arms of your eternity. Then, perhaps, Paul’s words will trouble me less. For I know: I avoid pain … religiously. I have well-practiced strategies for self-protection. I escape struggle whenever I can, or so it seems. And opponents I meet, they do intimidate me, so that sometimes I am no longer me, no longer that self I am when I rest in the eternal constancy of your infinite nearness.
My heart is too little given to you and your eternal desire to love all things into life. O Christ, ever the same, and more insistent than the seasons, awaken in me such a sense of your constancy and compassion that I may be fully given to your eternal purpose; however it appears in my days. Grant me the privilege of suffering for your holy desire that all the world should live in the eternity of your love. Amen.
Philippians 1:27-30
“Only, live your life in a manner worthy of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well” (Phil. 1:27-29).
Prayer
Silently, you speak in the soft glow of morning, O Eternal and Constant One. The day is born, alive in pinks and lavender with mountains of bulbous purple clouds resting their weight on the lake’s horizon. They signal with certainty that fall has come once more. The season’s insistent turn, assured and unyielding reminds me again that I am not.
So I turn again to you, Eternal Wonder. You alone are more certain than the morning. You are constant and firm, your love for me and all I see remains sure, amid the passing of days into seasons, and seasons into the years of my lifetime.
May I share in the constancy of your life and purpose? I long for you. I want my heart and my days to be marked by a calm and quiet confidence, resting in the arms of your eternity. Then, perhaps, Paul’s words will trouble me less. For I know: I avoid pain … religiously. I have well-practiced strategies for self-protection. I escape struggle whenever I can, or so it seems. And opponents I meet, they do intimidate me, so that sometimes I am no longer me, no longer that self I am when I rest in the eternal constancy of your infinite nearness.
My heart is too little given to you and your eternal desire to love all things into life. O Christ, ever the same, and more insistent than the seasons, awaken in me such a sense of your constancy and compassion that I may be fully given to your eternal purpose; however it appears in my days. Grant me the privilege of suffering for your holy desire that all the world should live in the eternity of your love. Amen.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:27-30
“Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that your are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel” (Phil. 1:27).
Prayer
What can be worthy of you, who surrender yourself to the sole holy purpose under heaven, that for which all things cry out in longing? You, O Christ, are the fleshly face of the Invisible Darkness that haunts human souls. You are the near appearing of the Blessed Abyss no eye has seen and no name can capture. You come and show mortal eyes the the Immortal Beloved they could not have imagined.
You come fully given to that holy purpose. Shying not from suffering, you surrender yourself to the executioners scaffold. You reveal the persistent passion burning in the heart of the Eternal Wonder to bring all things home, to the heart of mercy from which they spring.
You are the fulfillment of our longing for that home we have never known but for which we have never ceased yearning. There, the anxious separation we feel among ourselves and from you is abolished. There, all things bask in the Infinite Love who fashioned them in delight. There, finally united with the Loving Mystery of whom you are the human face, we know the peace, the shalom, for which you made us.
And we know it even amid our dailiness. Sometimes, surely. In our common prayers and song, in the unity of our purpose to know you and make you known, in the smile and embrace expressing more than words can, there appears a unity of heart and endeavor in which we taste the sweetness of the final unity of all in you. Today, don’t let me forget that. But, like you, let me give myself to the unity of love and spirit, faith and hope you labor to fashion among us and all that is. Amen.
Philippians 1:27-30
“Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that your are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel” (Phil. 1:27).
Prayer
What can be worthy of you, who surrender yourself to the sole holy purpose under heaven, that for which all things cry out in longing? You, O Christ, are the fleshly face of the Invisible Darkness that haunts human souls. You are the near appearing of the Blessed Abyss no eye has seen and no name can capture. You come and show mortal eyes the the Immortal Beloved they could not have imagined.
You come fully given to that holy purpose. Shying not from suffering, you surrender yourself to the executioners scaffold. You reveal the persistent passion burning in the heart of the Eternal Wonder to bring all things home, to the heart of mercy from which they spring.
You are the fulfillment of our longing for that home we have never known but for which we have never ceased yearning. There, the anxious separation we feel among ourselves and from you is abolished. There, all things bask in the Infinite Love who fashioned them in delight. There, finally united with the Loving Mystery of whom you are the human face, we know the peace, the shalom, for which you made us.
And we know it even amid our dailiness. Sometimes, surely. In our common prayers and song, in the unity of our purpose to know you and make you known, in the smile and embrace expressing more than words can, there appears a unity of heart and endeavor in which we taste the sweetness of the final unity of all in you. Today, don’t let me forget that. But, like you, let me give myself to the unity of love and spirit, faith and hope you labor to fashion among us and all that is. Amen.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:21-26
“I know I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again” (Phil. 1:25-26).
Prayer
What is our boast? What shall I lift before you as my morning offering, O Near Immensity? You sprinkle the roaring stars across the cosmos with slightest command. You breathe life into every leaf and lung so that the universe itself inhales the wonder of you. You labor in impenetrable depths of being beyond all seeing. You seek mercy for all Earth’s tender children, holding in the near immensity of your divine heart all who are denied the loving reverence in which you hold all that you have made.
Tell me, what can my empty hands hold before you this day? Only this: you. I shall boast of what you do in the children of Earth. In your divine delight, you begin a good work, brimming with love that overflows with knowledge so that I may determine what is best, what perishable words and work might praise the wonder of your imperishability.
I shall boast of what you have begun and will complete in all your beloved: a knowledge born of love, a knowledge born of your inner life, for you are love. To love is to know you. To love is to be in you. To love is to share in the intimacy of your divine life. To love is know the blessing of the eternal Christ encompassed within the limits of our little lives, transforming us at last into human beings.
I shall boast. For you who are love will bring us to full union with you, full participation in the love you are, and this for the blessing of a world to which you are pleased to give yourself. This day, may I be among those so given. Amen.
Philippians 1:21-26
“I know I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again” (Phil. 1:25-26).
Prayer
What is our boast? What shall I lift before you as my morning offering, O Near Immensity? You sprinkle the roaring stars across the cosmos with slightest command. You breathe life into every leaf and lung so that the universe itself inhales the wonder of you. You labor in impenetrable depths of being beyond all seeing. You seek mercy for all Earth’s tender children, holding in the near immensity of your divine heart all who are denied the loving reverence in which you hold all that you have made.
Tell me, what can my empty hands hold before you this day? Only this: you. I shall boast of what you do in the children of Earth. In your divine delight, you begin a good work, brimming with love that overflows with knowledge so that I may determine what is best, what perishable words and work might praise the wonder of your imperishability.
I shall boast of what you have begun and will complete in all your beloved: a knowledge born of love, a knowledge born of your inner life, for you are love. To love is to know you. To love is to be in you. To love is to share in the intimacy of your divine life. To love is know the blessing of the eternal Christ encompassed within the limits of our little lives, transforming us at last into human beings.
I shall boast. For you who are love will bring us to full union with you, full participation in the love you are, and this for the blessing of a world to which you are pleased to give yourself. This day, may I be among those so given. Amen.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:21-26
“I know I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again” (Phil. 1:25-26).
Prayer
What is our boast? What shall I lift before you as my morning offering, O Near Immensity? You sprinkle the roaring stars across the cosmos with slightest command. You breathe life into every leaf and lung so that the universe itself inhales the wonder of you. You labor in impenetrable depths of being beyond all seeing. You seek mercy for all Earth’s tender children, holding in the near immensity of your divine heart all who are denied the loving reverence in which you hold all that you have made.
Tell me, what can my empty hands hold before you this day? Only this: you. I shall boast of what you do in the children of Earth. In your divine delight, you begin a good work, brimming with love that overflows with knowledge so that I may determine what is best, what perishable words and work might praise the wonder of your imperishability.
I shall boast of what you have begun and will complete in all your beloved: a knowledge born of love, a knowledge born of your inner life, for you are love. To love is to know you. To love is to be in you. To love is to share in the intimacy of your divine life. To love is know the blessing of the eternal Christ encompassed within the limits of our little lives, transforming us at last into human beings.
I shall boast. For you who are love will bring us to full union with you, full participation in the love you are, and this for the blessing of a world to which you are pleased to give yourself. This day, may I be among those so given. Amen.
Philippians 1:21-26
“I know I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again” (Phil. 1:25-26).
Prayer
What is our boast? What shall I lift before you as my morning offering, O Near Immensity? You sprinkle the roaring stars across the cosmos with slightest command. You breathe life into every leaf and lung so that the universe itself inhales the wonder of you. You labor in impenetrable depths of being beyond all seeing. You seek mercy for all Earth’s tender children, holding in the near immensity of your divine heart all who are denied the loving reverence in which you hold all that you have made.
Tell me, what can my empty hands hold before you this day? Only this: you. I shall boast of what you do in the children of Earth. In your divine delight, you begin a good work, brimming with love that overflows with knowledge so that I may determine what is best, what perishable words and work might praise the wonder of your imperishability.
I shall boast of what you have begun and will complete in all your beloved: a knowledge born of love, a knowledge born of your inner life, for you are love. To love is to know you. To love is to be in you. To love is to share in the intimacy of your divine life. To love is know the blessing of the eternal Christ encompassed within the limits of our little lives, transforming us at last into human beings.
I shall boast. For you who are love will bring us to full union with you, full participation in the love you are, and this for the blessing of a world to which you are pleased to give yourself. This day, may I be among those so given. Amen.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 1:21-26
“I know I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again” (Phil. 1:25-26).
Prayer
What progress is there for us, O Changeless Compassion? What advance toward completion can I know? The struggles and sins that cloud my joy and erode my determination to serve you remain. They leave for a time only to reappear with subtle twists in unexpected places to hector my heart. They unnerve me, these struggles, stealing my sleep and disquieting my soul so that my mind and heart are not pure, singular and fully given to you and to all that pains your divine heart.
Decades come and go, and I continue to trip over the same fault lines in my soul: Am I good enough? Will they like what I do? Why should that matter? Why do my efforts so often feel so partial, so inadequate, so imperfect? And why am I so self-absorbed? I march around the same center, the same struggles that have been with me since I was small, never moving far beyond them.
What progress is this? Will I never know you so well that nothing else matters? Sometimes I do. There are moments, times and seasons when I no longer march around the crumbling tower of self, but my heart fixes upon your love alone, and that is all I see or can see. Freedom of heart and a quiet mind then become a bubbling spring from which love and wonder flow, a stream of blessing from the infinite depths of your eternity.
Self-absorbed fears instantly dissolve in that boundless spring, leaving joy and the desire to know nothing but you, to be wholly given to the love that bears your face, blessed Jesus. Is this progress? Surely, I will fall back again into self-preoccupation and the struggles that cloud such clear vision. But I will have known true freedom, the fulfillment of soul you alone give. And I will seek your face. Let me seek and see you this day, so that I may know the holy completion you alone can give. Amen.
Philippians 1:21-26
“I know I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again” (Phil. 1:25-26).
Prayer
What progress is there for us, O Changeless Compassion? What advance toward completion can I know? The struggles and sins that cloud my joy and erode my determination to serve you remain. They leave for a time only to reappear with subtle twists in unexpected places to hector my heart. They unnerve me, these struggles, stealing my sleep and disquieting my soul so that my mind and heart are not pure, singular and fully given to you and to all that pains your divine heart.
Decades come and go, and I continue to trip over the same fault lines in my soul: Am I good enough? Will they like what I do? Why should that matter? Why do my efforts so often feel so partial, so inadequate, so imperfect? And why am I so self-absorbed? I march around the same center, the same struggles that have been with me since I was small, never moving far beyond them.
What progress is this? Will I never know you so well that nothing else matters? Sometimes I do. There are moments, times and seasons when I no longer march around the crumbling tower of self, but my heart fixes upon your love alone, and that is all I see or can see. Freedom of heart and a quiet mind then become a bubbling spring from which love and wonder flow, a stream of blessing from the infinite depths of your eternity.
Self-absorbed fears instantly dissolve in that boundless spring, leaving joy and the desire to know nothing but you, to be wholly given to the love that bears your face, blessed Jesus. Is this progress? Surely, I will fall back again into self-preoccupation and the struggles that cloud such clear vision. But I will have known true freedom, the fulfillment of soul you alone give. And I will seek your face. Let me seek and see you this day, so that I may know the holy completion you alone can give. Amen.
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.
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
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