Today’s text
Mark 4:37-40
Then it began to blow a great gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, 'Master, do you not care? We are lost!' And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Quiet now! Be calm!' And the wind dropped, and there followed a great calm. Then he said to them, 'Why are you so frightened? Have you still no faith?'
Reflection
Jesus saw what no eye could see when he stood and looked into the night. He woke from sleep into awareness of the face of the darkness.
I see that face even now, the curve of the cheek, the dark eyes that always see, the countenance unchanged when winds blow and human souls tremble.
Before and just above the bow of the boat hovers the dark face of eternal presence and constant compassion, hovering over the stormy waters, eyes gazing upon the fearful disciples … and me, never turning away.
I see, and the soul grows quiet and calm. Tears come, for I know all I need to know. I, too, see the face of the darkness, the One ever there.
Jesus lived in constant awareness of an eternal face turned ever toward him. He called that face “Father,” for he knew it as gentle and caring, strong and unwavering.
When he laid down in the rocking boat this awareness was the cushion on which he laid his head. He rested in peace, his heart calm because he knew the face does not turn away when he closed his eyes to sleep.
He knew that when he awoke he would open his eyes and look into the face of Eternal Compassion, the Constant Presence who was there waiting for him to begin his day. Each day he gazed into the eyes of Infinite Mercy, eyes that always gazed upon him with unspeakable tenderness.
On this bright and promising morning, I look into those eyes and glimpse the contours of that great and gracious face. It’s invisible to the physical eye. But the imagination of faith has eyes to see the face of the darkness even in impenetrable night when fierce winds blow and human souls tremble.
And in seeing we hear a voice, “Peace, be still,” and we know what we need to know.
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Friday, June 22, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 4:37-40
Then it began to blow a great gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, 'Master, do you not care? We are lost!' And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Quiet now! Be calm!' And the wind dropped, and there followed a great calm. Then he said to them, 'Why are you so frightened? Have you still no faith?'
Reflection
An elderly person I know tells me, “Whether I live or whether I die there is someone waiting for me.”
Hers’ are eyes of faith. She looks beyond what is happening in the moment to what the moment will bring.
Illness or death, healing or renewed life: there’s someone waiting no matter what comes. I know she is speaking of friends in this life and a husband and friends who have passed into eternity.
But her words carry a double meaning. They echo with the Presence of One who says, “Peace, be still. I wait for you in every new moment, in every fresh morning, in every storm that comes your way.”
Whatever else the day brings, Holy One, it holds you. The tempest of the hour, the challenge of the day, the work and faces we meet, all of it … holds you.
But it also hides you. The surface noise of the now distracts our anxious vision from the Presence of the Love who abides, who waits for us in every future.
Jesus rests in this awareness and invites us to lay our worried heads, our anxious minds, our troubled hearts on the cushion of this certainty. He does not say, “Look at me.”
He says, “See what I see. Hear what I hear. Live where I live.”
He sees and hears the Love who always whispers, “Do not fear. Ever. Love waits for you in every time, every place.”
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 4:37-40
Then it began to blow a great gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, 'Master, do you not care? We are lost!' And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Quiet now! Be calm!' And the wind dropped, and there followed a great calm. Then he said to them, 'Why are you so frightened? Have you still no faith?'
Reflection
Jesus’ command was not really spoken to the wind and the waves. It is spoken to us. He invites us into the awareness in which he rests amid the storm.
“Peace, be still,” he says, but stillness cannot come when our hearts have two eyes.
We live with one eye focused on the tumult of living and the anxieties of the day, while our other eye looks warily at God, wondering, “Are you there? Do you care? Can you help?’
Only a single eye, a singular focus brings peace, an eye open to God, steadily gazing into the heart of Love who made us for love and in love holds each moment.
Storms come; winds blow, and we fear. We fear losing that which is most essential to our life and happiness. We fear what the future might bring, what it will inevitably bring and what we cannot control.
But the storms are temporary; the love is eternal. Storms operate on the surface of consciousness; the Love abides deep in the heart.
So we descend into the depths. We sink beneath the surface of noise of the now into awareness of an abiding, creative, ever-present love who breathes us into existence each moment, though we do not ask and cannot control its breathing.
Love abides beneath the noise and anxieties of the day. It breathes, “Peace, be still.”
Jesus dwells in this awareness. It is the cushion on which he lays his head. He is the living embodiment of the life to which we are called but which escapes us because we do not see with a single eye focused on the One unchanging amid the storm, the Love who always … is, and always will be.
May we see with one eye … and find peace … this day.
Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, June 15, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 4:26-29
He also said, 'This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land produces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, at once he starts to reap because the harvest has come.'
Reflection
It is hard to wait. I am not sure human beings are built for waiting, and growing up in the U.S. doesn’t do much to teach you the art of patient waiting.
Twice yesterday I heard the word ‘impatient’ from people who are not at all antsy. They know about waiting. They know what it is to live with uncertainty and threat, watching and wondering what will come to them, their health, their family … their lives.
They want to see and know what the future will bring. While they wait they distract themselves from the worst of their fears as well as possible, and they live their lives.
I hope they can continue to live with hope, just knowing … that beneath the surface of their lives --and of all life--there is unseen dynamic constantly at work that will yield a great harvest of loving presence in their lives, no matter what comes.
You are there, Holy One. Always. The parable is not about seeds, but about you. And you are the hidden dynamic of love secretly growing in the soil of our lives, green shoots pushing through the hard crust of doubt and fear, our uncertainty and our struggle to trust that whatever the future holds … your love holds the future.
The sower in Jesus story acts strangely. He plants but doesn’t not weed or till, water or care for the growing seed. He does nothing to assist its growth. He waits, knowing all will be well because something good and beautiful will grow and cover the earth with fresh green life.
No farmer worthy of the name, even in Jesus time, would be as passive as this man. But passivity is not the point; patient confidence is.
Living in relationship with the Loving Mystery, who is everywhere and active in everything, we are invited to take a deep breath and live, simply knowing that a harvest of divine goodness and grace, love and blessing will come.
This hardly means we get everything we want or think that we need. Life with God is not existence in a candy store.
But we will bask in the light of and love of God. For in ourselves three grows a harvest of loving presence that will fill our souls and unite our hearts with all who know this love … and with the One who is that Love.
Pr. David L. Miller
Today’s text
Mark 4:26-29
He also said, 'This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land produces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, at once he starts to reap because the harvest has come.'
Reflection
It is hard to wait. I am not sure human beings are built for waiting, and growing up in the U.S. doesn’t do much to teach you the art of patient waiting.
Twice yesterday I heard the word ‘impatient’ from people who are not at all antsy. They know about waiting. They know what it is to live with uncertainty and threat, watching and wondering what will come to them, their health, their family … their lives.
They want to see and know what the future will bring. While they wait they distract themselves from the worst of their fears as well as possible, and they live their lives.
I hope they can continue to live with hope, just knowing … that beneath the surface of their lives --and of all life--there is unseen dynamic constantly at work that will yield a great harvest of loving presence in their lives, no matter what comes.
You are there, Holy One. Always. The parable is not about seeds, but about you. And you are the hidden dynamic of love secretly growing in the soil of our lives, green shoots pushing through the hard crust of doubt and fear, our uncertainty and our struggle to trust that whatever the future holds … your love holds the future.
The sower in Jesus story acts strangely. He plants but doesn’t not weed or till, water or care for the growing seed. He does nothing to assist its growth. He waits, knowing all will be well because something good and beautiful will grow and cover the earth with fresh green life.
No farmer worthy of the name, even in Jesus time, would be as passive as this man. But passivity is not the point; patient confidence is.
Living in relationship with the Loving Mystery, who is everywhere and active in everything, we are invited to take a deep breath and live, simply knowing that a harvest of divine goodness and grace, love and blessing will come.
This hardly means we get everything we want or think that we need. Life with God is not existence in a candy store.
But we will bask in the light of and love of God. For in ourselves three grows a harvest of loving presence that will fill our souls and unite our hearts with all who know this love … and with the One who is that Love.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 4:26-29
He also said, 'This is what the kingdom of God
Reflection
Some of Jesus stories are opaque to me. I can’t see through them. Perhaps they are a bit like Zen koans, dense, obscure sayings that make little sense to common ways of seeing. Only in living with them and allowing them to unsettle us do other dimensions of meaning appear.
Perhaps it is not even correct to speak of ‘meaning.’ Perhaps his sayings provoke us, agitate us through our lack of awareness until common ways of seeing iare dislodged and a new conscious emerges.
None of his stories can be reduced to a single point of meaning, but each resonates anew each time we dare look at them and watch what they awaken in us.
Today, I see the farmer … the one who scatters the seed, and I am moved to quietness, perhaps even to patience, a contrary move for me and many in our society who are socialized to work harder and with greater diligence to make good things happen.
We are a driven people for the most part, and we honor those most driven to be successful among us. Only later seeing how badly unbridled ambition can disfigure lives and relationships.
I am impressed that the sower in Jesus story does his part … sows seed. Then he watches and does little, if anything.
He does not understand the processes by which growth and maturation occur. He knows his part is to plant and watch, being ready when harvest time comes, recognizing that life and growth are a mystery he does not control.
He knows his part and patiently awaits the mystery of growth to appear, with little apparent anxiety of what he cannot understand and with no attempt to ‘push the river’ to make something happen.
He can only do what has been given him to do … and to trust the mystery: an inner, hidden dynamic of goodness and grace will work its magic. Beauty and fullness will come … as a gift, a given, a grace, and he will have what he needs.
His is a life of knowing his part and waiting for mystery of goodness and grace to unfold, patiently trusting that it will because God will have it no other way.
Not such a bad way to live.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Today’s text
2 Corinthians 5:6-7
We are always full of confidence, then, realizing that as long as we are at home in the body we are exiled from the Lord, guided by faith and not yet by sight … .
Reflection
With apologies to Yogi Berra, “It’s hard to make predictions, especially when they’re about the future.”
And yet, there is a future we know, a future where surprising grace and the reality of love awaits our arrival, a future hidden in the heart of the One who is Love and nothing but.
As long as this awareness is before our eyes and lives in our heart, the days are never too hard, the challenges never too great. For we know what is most needful.
Paul sometimes thought of being ‘in the body’ as exile. It is, I suppose, for our flesh is weak. Our bodies grow tired, and our hearts begin to doubt whether the unseen future holds any of the goodness and grace we need to live, to breathe, to feel filled with vitality and purpose.
We experience separation, distance--sometimes great and impassable distance--between ourselves and the Heart our heart most needs to know. The feeling of being exiled from the Lord who is Love’s Holy Source is all too known in human hearts, believers and those who cannot find an inkling of faith within.
But moments of grace occur, gracious smiles appear, hope stirs in hearts that were barren but moments before, and the soul awakens to the reality of our lives.
We live in an ocean of unseen Presence. We move through a liquid grace that finds cracks and corners of soul through which it seeps in, awakening awareness that we are not exiles at all.
And we know: the future is predictable after all. We know nothing of what will come, but we know you, Dearest One, will be there … waiting.
Pr. David L. Miller
2 Corinthians 5:6-7
We are always full of confidence, then, realizing that as long as we are at home in the body we are exiled from the Lord, guided by faith and not yet by sight … .
Reflection
With apologies to Yogi Berra, “It’s hard to make predictions, especially when they’re about the future.”
And yet, there is a future we know, a future where surprising grace and the reality of love awaits our arrival, a future hidden in the heart of the One who is Love and nothing but.
As long as this awareness is before our eyes and lives in our heart, the days are never too hard, the challenges never too great. For we know what is most needful.
Paul sometimes thought of being ‘in the body’ as exile. It is, I suppose, for our flesh is weak. Our bodies grow tired, and our hearts begin to doubt whether the unseen future holds any of the goodness and grace we need to live, to breathe, to feel filled with vitality and purpose.
We experience separation, distance--sometimes great and impassable distance--between ourselves and the Heart our heart most needs to know. The feeling of being exiled from the Lord who is Love’s Holy Source is all too known in human hearts, believers and those who cannot find an inkling of faith within.
But moments of grace occur, gracious smiles appear, hope stirs in hearts that were barren but moments before, and the soul awakens to the reality of our lives.
We live in an ocean of unseen Presence. We move through a liquid grace that finds cracks and corners of soul through which it seeps in, awakening awareness that we are not exiles at all.
And we know: the future is predictable after all. We know nothing of what will come, but we know you, Dearest One, will be there … waiting.
Pr. David L. Miller
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Today’s text
2 Corinthians 4:16
That is why we do not waver; indeed, though this outer human nature of ours may be falling into decay, at the same time our inner human nature is renewed day by day.
Reflection
We do not know, and that is what is most distressing for our souls.
Life happens, challenges come, victories and wounds, love and loss. Each moment is a tiny piece of a great drama whose ending we do not see, the story of what the Spirit of God is doing to renew our inner nature … and all creation.
Most often we cannot see what the Spirit is doing, what gift or strength, what courage or joy might appear in the midst of difficult times … or our many average days ruled by the regularity of routine.
The Spirit is not governed by our anxiousness to know how things will turn out, to see what renewal or restoration may appear.
Our task is to live, a day at a time, waiting and watching … or perhaps not.
Perhaps the greatest wisdom is simply to live, to love, to give yourself to the work and souls that surround us, not getting too disturbed … or elated … by the moment at hand … or any moment.
Perhaps it is best not to worry about seeing what renewal God’s Spirit will bring, for that distracts our vision from the present moment which is all we really have.
We can take the long view, trusting that God is working, knowing that the Spirit will do what the Spirit does … give life. Waiting for that fresh breath, we attend to the daily, the now, the need of the moment, knowing … just knowing that grace will come. Blessing will fill us.
The Spirit will breathe renewing life and hope, love and vigor into our souls even when troubles bring sadness and deadening routine wears us low.
Nothing is lost or wasted. Nothing. All that has been, all that is and will be is swept into the great drama of what Love is doing in our little souls.
Our eyes may see nothing at any given moment, nothing but years and yearning, loss and decay. But the Spirit lives and breathes … into us … the renewing breath of life so that we might breathe free and sing songs of life, trusting that renewal and life will come to our souls … day by day.
May we see your life today, dear One? If it is all the same to you, might we not feel, if only for a precious moment, the breath of new life blowing through our souls … that we may know?
Pr. David L. Miller
2 Corinthians 4:16
That is why we do not waver; indeed, though this outer human nature of ours may be falling into decay, at the same time our inner human nature is renewed day by day.
Reflection
We do not know, and that is what is most distressing for our souls.
Life happens, challenges come, victories and wounds, love and loss. Each moment is a tiny piece of a great drama whose ending we do not see, the story of what the Spirit of God is doing to renew our inner nature … and all creation.
Most often we cannot see what the Spirit is doing, what gift or strength, what courage or joy might appear in the midst of difficult times … or our many average days ruled by the regularity of routine.
The Spirit is not governed by our anxiousness to know how things will turn out, to see what renewal or restoration may appear.
Our task is to live, a day at a time, waiting and watching … or perhaps not.
Perhaps the greatest wisdom is simply to live, to love, to give yourself to the work and souls that surround us, not getting too disturbed … or elated … by the moment at hand … or any moment.
Perhaps it is best not to worry about seeing what renewal God’s Spirit will bring, for that distracts our vision from the present moment which is all we really have.
We can take the long view, trusting that God is working, knowing that the Spirit will do what the Spirit does … give life. Waiting for that fresh breath, we attend to the daily, the now, the need of the moment, knowing … just knowing that grace will come. Blessing will fill us.
The Spirit will breathe renewing life and hope, love and vigor into our souls even when troubles bring sadness and deadening routine wears us low.
Nothing is lost or wasted. Nothing. All that has been, all that is and will be is swept into the great drama of what Love is doing in our little souls.
Our eyes may see nothing at any given moment, nothing but years and yearning, loss and decay. But the Spirit lives and breathes … into us … the renewing breath of life so that we might breathe free and sing songs of life, trusting that renewal and life will come to our souls … day by day.
May we see your life today, dear One? If it is all the same to you, might we not feel, if only for a precious moment, the breath of new life blowing through our souls … that we may know?
Pr. David L. Miller
Saturday, June 09, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Today’s text
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
That is why we do not waver; indeed, though this outer human nature of ours may be falling into decay, at the same time our inner human nature is renewed day by day. The temporary, light burden of our hardships is earning us for ever an utterly incomparable, eternal weight of glory, since what we aim for is not visible but invisible. Visible things are transitory, but invisible things eternal.
Reflection
And what is this that we do not see? For what do we wait?
The stripping away, the losses and disappointments of our life, sorrows, troubles and unfulfilled hopes … these we see, and we feel them with acute intensity, wondering if they signal that the hole in our heart will never find healing, never experience completion.
But that for which we hope … must it remain ever a hope, a dream we can barely name?
Do we ever see and know, experience and feel that incomparable weight of glory entering our little lives? Does it ever come and wipe away our yearning ache for completion amid the giddy laughter of fulfilled hope?
It will come, I hear you say. The weight of this time will pass, and you will laugh. The Love I am will wash away every sadness, salve each wound.
There is a weight of glory that is no weight of all. It is lighter than air, more powerful than the sun. It fills human spirits and lifts them like so many brightly-colored Fourth of July balloons.
Slowly they rise from all that tethers their souls to earth, lifting to soar and display the colors of life and love, of beauty and hope that each is.
The world smiles at their presence because they beautify and lift the spirits of all with eyes to see them, even though the inner secret of their life remains unknown to most who witness their beauty. The secret is me … that’s what you tell me, Blessed One.
The secret is the filling of the soul with a love that is eternal and boundless.
The eternal weight of glory is the Love that surprises us that comes when we are not looking for it, that lifts your soul when you think you will never feel or know it, when you falsely imagine that the difficulties and losses are the final word over your and all life.
It comes, … you come, Blessed and Holy Lord, … when in sweetest moments we know union with you, when we feel one with that Source who is beyond us and beyond everything, when that awareness fills us, and we just know that we and everything we see and touch springs from love eternal.
May we know such a rare moment of knowing … today. Everyday.
Pr. David L. Miller
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
That is why we do not waver; indeed, though this outer human nature of ours may be falling into decay, at the same time our inner human nature is renewed day by day. The temporary, light burden of our hardships is earning us for ever an utterly incomparable, eternal weight of glory, since what we aim for is not visible but invisible. Visible things are transitory, but invisible things eternal.
Reflection
And what is this that we do not see? For what do we wait?
The stripping away, the losses and disappointments of our life, sorrows, troubles and unfulfilled hopes … these we see, and we feel them with acute intensity, wondering if they signal that the hole in our heart will never find healing, never experience completion.
But that for which we hope … must it remain ever a hope, a dream we can barely name?
Do we ever see and know, experience and feel that incomparable weight of glory entering our little lives? Does it ever come and wipe away our yearning ache for completion amid the giddy laughter of fulfilled hope?
It will come, I hear you say. The weight of this time will pass, and you will laugh. The Love I am will wash away every sadness, salve each wound.
There is a weight of glory that is no weight of all. It is lighter than air, more powerful than the sun. It fills human spirits and lifts them like so many brightly-colored Fourth of July balloons.
Slowly they rise from all that tethers their souls to earth, lifting to soar and display the colors of life and love, of beauty and hope that each is.
The world smiles at their presence because they beautify and lift the spirits of all with eyes to see them, even though the inner secret of their life remains unknown to most who witness their beauty. The secret is me … that’s what you tell me, Blessed One.
The secret is the filling of the soul with a love that is eternal and boundless.
The eternal weight of glory is the Love that surprises us that comes when we are not looking for it, that lifts your soul when you think you will never feel or know it, when you falsely imagine that the difficulties and losses are the final word over your and all life.
It comes, … you come, Blessed and Holy Lord, … when in sweetest moments we know union with you, when we feel one with that Source who is beyond us and beyond everything, when that awareness fills us, and we just know that we and everything we see and touch springs from love eternal.
May we know such a rare moment of knowing … today. Everyday.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Today’s text
John 3:3-4
Jesus answered: In all truth I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above. Nicodemus said, 'How can anyone who is already old be born? Is it possible to go back into the womb again and be born?'
Reflection
The answer, of course, is ‘yes.’ We can return to the womb and be born again.
Each day we can retreat to the places of rebirth and wait as we did in the womb for birth to come to us … again.
Nicodemus’ absurd question points directly to what we need to find newness and grace, revival and peace each day. We return to the womb of ultimate compassion and know ourselves once more as beloved and, well, special--held, nourished, our uniqueness treasured and brought to life.
This place is everyplace the love of God in Christ envelops us whole and holds us near, the place … the places of knowing.
One biblical word for compassion is, quite literally, womb.
In the womb of divine compassion, of ultimate grace and safety, we are born from above, knowing a life that is new, freed from the barnacles of past that cling to our hearts and minds, tying us down.
These barnacles cling, ever re-attaching themselves to our hearts, stealing the newness Christ brings.
Still, there are precious moments, sometimes longer periods of time, even whole days when every cell of the body sings in newness, knowing freedom from every past sin and failure, from every wound and want, because we are surrounded and filled by the Love we have always wanted.
Praise of God is not forced or effortful in such times. Joy and gratitude become the essence of our being as we are made new, born from above, once more, in the womb of ultimate grace, unlimited love and perfect compassion.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 3:3-4
Jesus answered: In all truth I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above. Nicodemus said, 'How can anyone who is already old be born? Is it possible to go back into the womb again and be born?'
Reflection
The answer, of course, is ‘yes.’ We can return to the womb and be born again.
Each day we can retreat to the places of rebirth and wait as we did in the womb for birth to come to us … again.
Nicodemus’ absurd question points directly to what we need to find newness and grace, revival and peace each day. We return to the womb of ultimate compassion and know ourselves once more as beloved and, well, special--held, nourished, our uniqueness treasured and brought to life.
This place is everyplace the love of God in Christ envelops us whole and holds us near, the place … the places of knowing.
One biblical word for compassion is, quite literally, womb.
In the womb of divine compassion, of ultimate grace and safety, we are born from above, knowing a life that is new, freed from the barnacles of past that cling to our hearts and minds, tying us down.
These barnacles cling, ever re-attaching themselves to our hearts, stealing the newness Christ brings.
Still, there are precious moments, sometimes longer periods of time, even whole days when every cell of the body sings in newness, knowing freedom from every past sin and failure, from every wound and want, because we are surrounded and filled by the Love we have always wanted.
Praise of God is not forced or effortful in such times. Joy and gratitude become the essence of our being as we are made new, born from above, once more, in the womb of ultimate grace, unlimited love and perfect compassion.
Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, May 25, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Today’s text
John 16:13-15
However, when the Spirit of truth comes he will lead you to the complete truth, since he will not be speaking of his own accord, but will say only what he has been told; and he will reveal to you the things to come. He will glorify me, since all he reveals to you will be taken from what is mine. Everything the Father has is mine; that is why I said: all he reveals to you will be taken from what is mine.
Reflection
There is one who is complete, complete love, complete humanity, complete transparency to the heart of God.
The mystery of God is hidden in his heart but flows through his words and pores so that all he does bears the darkness of eternity into the light of time, our little moment of time.
We see him and feel his words within, and our hearts weep with the joy of knowing the Love beyond every love that is the Source of them all.
He is our brother, my brother. His name is Jesus, and all that is God is somehow in him, waiting to be given away, to flow into us so.
And it does so that the Voice deeper than all voices may speak in the depth of our consciousness, whispering of the Wonder who made us, the Love who holds us, the Hunger who wants us, the Healing that comes to us until we and all are whole..
Complete truth, Jesus calls this: all we need to live in love, bubble with hope and laugh as if all worries had departed. For, they have.
All that is in God is in him and being given to us.
And all that is in him is life. That is the first and last word, the complete truth. The temporal truths we know along the way of living--that life gets hard, that grief comes, that beauty fades, that summer ends--all this that passes for wisdom is but partial.
The complete truth: Love lasts, Life is forever, Beauty holds us and always will. So laugh until you cry. Your tears praise the One who is in you.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 16:13-15
However, when the Spirit of truth comes he will lead you to the complete truth, since he will not be speaking of his own accord, but will say only what he has been told; and he will reveal to you the things to come. He will glorify me, since all he reveals to you will be taken from what is mine. Everything the Father has is mine; that is why I said: all he reveals to you will be taken from what is mine.
Reflection
There is one who is complete, complete love, complete humanity, complete transparency to the heart of God.
The mystery of God is hidden in his heart but flows through his words and pores so that all he does bears the darkness of eternity into the light of time, our little moment of time.
We see him and feel his words within, and our hearts weep with the joy of knowing the Love beyond every love that is the Source of them all.
He is our brother, my brother. His name is Jesus, and all that is God is somehow in him, waiting to be given away, to flow into us so.
And it does so that the Voice deeper than all voices may speak in the depth of our consciousness, whispering of the Wonder who made us, the Love who holds us, the Hunger who wants us, the Healing that comes to us until we and all are whole..
Complete truth, Jesus calls this: all we need to live in love, bubble with hope and laugh as if all worries had departed. For, they have.
All that is in God is in him and being given to us.
And all that is in him is life. That is the first and last word, the complete truth. The temporal truths we know along the way of living--that life gets hard, that grief comes, that beauty fades, that summer ends--all this that passes for wisdom is but partial.
The complete truth: Love lasts, Life is forever, Beauty holds us and always will. So laugh until you cry. Your tears praise the One who is in you.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Today's Text
Romans 8:26-27
And as well as this, the Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness, for, when we do not know how to pray properly, then the Spirit personally makes our petitions for us in groans that cannot be put into words;and he who can see into all hearts knows what the Spirit means because the prayers that the Spirit makes for God's holy people are always in accordance with the mind of God.
Reflection
Come, Holy Spirit, give wings to our hearts.
Free us from the fears that possess us. Set our souls free to live.
Come, Holy Spirit, surprise us with your nearness.
Fill us with strength when we are weak. Renew us when we are worn and tired.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the breath of our sighs, longing to be made new.
You are our wordless yearning when hope fails and needs press down.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the fresh breath of each new morning.
You are the breath of all life and all love, the breath of hope within us.
Come, Holy Spirit, You are the breath of the love that fills us.
Fill us that joy may spill from our hearts and lighten our days.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the oil of kindness poured on the wounds of the world
You are the oil of blessing reminding us that we are your beloved.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the oil of anointing calling us to lives of care.
Move us to pour your mercy on the hungry and a world in need.
.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the fire of love and conviction.
Ignite our passion that we may give our lives to your kingdom.
Come, Holy Spirit, You are the fire of passion. You hunger for us.
Stir our hunger that we may desire nothing less than knowing and loving you.
Pr. David L. Miller
Romans 8:26-27
And as well as this, the Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness, for, when we do not know how to pray properly, then the Spirit personally makes our petitions for us in groans that cannot be put into words;and he who can see into all hearts knows what the Spirit means because the prayers that the Spirit makes for God's holy people are always in accordance with the mind of God.
Reflection
Come, Holy Spirit, give wings to our hearts.
Free us from the fears that possess us. Set our souls free to live.
Come, Holy Spirit, surprise us with your nearness.
Fill us with strength when we are weak. Renew us when we are worn and tired.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the breath of our sighs, longing to be made new.
You are our wordless yearning when hope fails and needs press down.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the fresh breath of each new morning.
You are the breath of all life and all love, the breath of hope within us.
Come, Holy Spirit, You are the breath of the love that fills us.
Fill us that joy may spill from our hearts and lighten our days.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the oil of kindness poured on the wounds of the world
You are the oil of blessing reminding us that we are your beloved.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the oil of anointing calling us to lives of care.
Move us to pour your mercy on the hungry and a world in need.
.
Come, Holy Spirit, you are the fire of love and conviction.
Ignite our passion that we may give our lives to your kingdom.
Come, Holy Spirit, You are the fire of passion. You hunger for us.
Stir our hunger that we may desire nothing less than knowing and loving you.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Today’s text
John 16:4-7
But I have told you all this, so that when the time for it comes you may remember that I told you. I did not tell you this from the beginning, because I was with you; but now I am going to the one who sent me. Not one of you asks, 'Where are you going? Yet you are sad at heart because I have told you this. Still, I am telling you the truth: it is for your own good that I am going, because unless I go, the Paraclete will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.
Reflection
There is no time for sadness because there is no separation. Never.
You are here always and always will be. In this quiet place, I know you present and with me. No, the One you send is not with me, not beside or around me, but in the depth of the mystery of my own being, the Voice deeper than every other voice.
You are the Voice that renders all other voices irrelevant.
In the silence you speak the wonder of a Loving Presence who is the first and final truth of my life. And I flee there, to that place within where I might hear, even as gentle music of longing filters into consciousness from the stereo across the room.
As long as you were with the disciples, Jesus, they fixed on your nearness, eager to lean into your side as they walked along. And why not?
In you they knew a Holy Presence, a soul transparent to the mystery of God. Their hearts woke from sleep when they sat with you.
Could it be true? Could they know and feel the fullness of God so close that their skin tingled in delight?
Could they feel so alive and free that the anxieties and threats that surround life disappear? Could they feel a Love beyond all loves with their hands and heart? Could they feel it filling them, so that they knew this Love like their own breath and the warmth in their chest?
They didn’t need to ask such questions. They knew. In Jesus presence, they knew all this and more, although words mostly failed them when they tried to express what they knew.
Their sadness when Jesus was about to leave them was heavy, palpable, understandable … and unnecessary.
For as long as he was with them they would not and could not listen to the Spirit, the Voice within them and hear that same Voice and Spirit that filled Jesus and made him transparent to the Eternal God.
When Jesus left they felt bereft, alone and abandoned, but they were not alone, not ever. The Spirit of truth, the Helper, the Eternal Voice that is the Holy Presence of Love beyond all measure was there, given to them, in them.
And they, like us, needed to learn to listen at that deep place where speaks the Voice of Eternal Love telling us that we are not and never will be … alone.
There is never a moment when you, Holy Mystery, are not here.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 16:4-7
But I have told you all this, so that when the time for it comes you may remember that I told you. I did not tell you this from the beginning, because I was with you; but now I am going to the one who sent me. Not one of you asks, 'Where are you going? Yet you are sad at heart because I have told you this. Still, I am telling you the truth: it is for your own good that I am going, because unless I go, the Paraclete will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.
Reflection
There is no time for sadness because there is no separation. Never.
You are here always and always will be. In this quiet place, I know you present and with me. No, the One you send is not with me, not beside or around me, but in the depth of the mystery of my own being, the Voice deeper than every other voice.
You are the Voice that renders all other voices irrelevant.
In the silence you speak the wonder of a Loving Presence who is the first and final truth of my life. And I flee there, to that place within where I might hear, even as gentle music of longing filters into consciousness from the stereo across the room.
As long as you were with the disciples, Jesus, they fixed on your nearness, eager to lean into your side as they walked along. And why not?
In you they knew a Holy Presence, a soul transparent to the mystery of God. Their hearts woke from sleep when they sat with you.
Could it be true? Could they know and feel the fullness of God so close that their skin tingled in delight?
Could they feel so alive and free that the anxieties and threats that surround life disappear? Could they feel a Love beyond all loves with their hands and heart? Could they feel it filling them, so that they knew this Love like their own breath and the warmth in their chest?
They didn’t need to ask such questions. They knew. In Jesus presence, they knew all this and more, although words mostly failed them when they tried to express what they knew.
Their sadness when Jesus was about to leave them was heavy, palpable, understandable … and unnecessary.
For as long as he was with them they would not and could not listen to the Spirit, the Voice within them and hear that same Voice and Spirit that filled Jesus and made him transparent to the Eternal God.
When Jesus left they felt bereft, alone and abandoned, but they were not alone, not ever. The Spirit of truth, the Helper, the Eternal Voice that is the Holy Presence of Love beyond all measure was there, given to them, in them.
And they, like us, needed to learn to listen at that deep place where speaks the Voice of Eternal Love telling us that we are not and never will be … alone.
There is never a moment when you, Holy Mystery, are not here.
Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, May 21, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Today’s text
John 15:26-27
When the Paraclete comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who issues from the Father, he will be my witness. And you too will be witnesses, because you have been with me from the beginning.
Reflection
We search the wrong places for the Spirit of truth if we listen to everyone and everything but ignore the voice within.
The Spirit is the breath and heart of the Father, the Loving Mystery whom our hearts know even though our eyes cannot see.
There is a place within, a point of convergence where You, Loving Mystery, and I, are one, two sides of a single coin, to quote an inadequate cliché.
When I quiet my heart and practice standing still other voices from within and without tire and fall away, and I can hear again, listening for that point.
I listen in the silence to the Silence and hear you speaking, for Silence is your most sublime language.
In the silence, I know. I am aware that all that is … is your breathing. I know you as Source of all life and my own. I know my life and all I see is the stream of life springing from a boundless fountain that never runs dry. I know all I see is but the surface of a great and bottomless sea of mystery.
There is within me a witnessing Spirit, the Spirit of your truth, no, the Spirit you are.
Your indwell me, and I hear a Voice, a Helper telling me again and again and again … it is Love who makes me and all that is, and it is love that I am at the depth of my being, for my being is but one manifestation of your own, and you are Love.
And I know … that the Spirit of truth within me, the One I hear so faintly, is the same Spirit who filled my brother, Jesus, who heard you so well. He heard so completely that his life and words seamlessly gave witness to the truth and beauty of all that you are, Loving Mystery.
Lead me into the silence, Holy One, that I may hear your Silence speaking clearly, even as did he.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 15:26-27
When the Paraclete comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who issues from the Father, he will be my witness. And you too will be witnesses, because you have been with me from the beginning.
Reflection
We search the wrong places for the Spirit of truth if we listen to everyone and everything but ignore the voice within.
The Spirit is the breath and heart of the Father, the Loving Mystery whom our hearts know even though our eyes cannot see.
There is a place within, a point of convergence where You, Loving Mystery, and I, are one, two sides of a single coin, to quote an inadequate cliché.
When I quiet my heart and practice standing still other voices from within and without tire and fall away, and I can hear again, listening for that point.
I listen in the silence to the Silence and hear you speaking, for Silence is your most sublime language.
In the silence, I know. I am aware that all that is … is your breathing. I know you as Source of all life and my own. I know my life and all I see is the stream of life springing from a boundless fountain that never runs dry. I know all I see is but the surface of a great and bottomless sea of mystery.
There is within me a witnessing Spirit, the Spirit of your truth, no, the Spirit you are.
Your indwell me, and I hear a Voice, a Helper telling me again and again and again … it is Love who makes me and all that is, and it is love that I am at the depth of my being, for my being is but one manifestation of your own, and you are Love.
And I know … that the Spirit of truth within me, the One I hear so faintly, is the same Spirit who filled my brother, Jesus, who heard you so well. He heard so completely that his life and words seamlessly gave witness to the truth and beauty of all that you are, Loving Mystery.
Lead me into the silence, Holy One, that I may hear your Silence speaking clearly, even as did he.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, May 08, 2012
Tuesday May 8, 2012
Today’s text
John 15:9-11
I have loved you just as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my own joy may be in you and your joy be complete.
Reflection
I have loved you, as the Father loves me.
I am not sure if there is a more amazing statement in the entire Bible. I come here again to know the truth of your words, Jesus. There is no other reason, not really.
There is a love that awakens the soul to the beauty of all things and, yes, even to the beauty of its own soul self. Having tasted such love, all of life becomes a pilgrimage back to the places and faces, to the moments and yearning practices that open one’s heart to know what it most needs to know: that we abide in love, at all times and in every moment.
It is true every moment, but it is a truth lost to us most of our lives. We miss the holiness, the Presence of the One Love who is present in every love and in the deep mystery of every moment, moments that appear out of the darkness of nothingness to make a world where our hearts might discover the heart of the One from whom we all come.
We hunger for that heart, each in our own way, seldom knowing the rapture of being so enveloped that we know this One, this Love is the ultimate truth of our lives. We wander in deserts of our own despair and the drivenness of our craving to experience and know as much as we can, fearing life is passing us by.
But there is only One thing we truly need, One Love which evaporates our craving in a flood of fulfillment and surprising joy.
You, Jesus, tell me that you are rapt in joy when this happens. So you tell us to abide, rest, remain in the places and faces, the moments and practices where we know that we are loved as wholly and everlastingly as you are by the One Love, the Loving Mystery, you call ‘Father.’
So I flee again to this place to listen and prepare to enter again my daily pilgrimage into the wonder of the divine heart, praying but one prayer: that my heart may open and know One Love.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 15:9-11
I have loved you just as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my own joy may be in you and your joy be complete.
Reflection
I have loved you, as the Father loves me.
I am not sure if there is a more amazing statement in the entire Bible. I come here again to know the truth of your words, Jesus. There is no other reason, not really.
There is a love that awakens the soul to the beauty of all things and, yes, even to the beauty of its own soul self. Having tasted such love, all of life becomes a pilgrimage back to the places and faces, to the moments and yearning practices that open one’s heart to know what it most needs to know: that we abide in love, at all times and in every moment.
It is true every moment, but it is a truth lost to us most of our lives. We miss the holiness, the Presence of the One Love who is present in every love and in the deep mystery of every moment, moments that appear out of the darkness of nothingness to make a world where our hearts might discover the heart of the One from whom we all come.
We hunger for that heart, each in our own way, seldom knowing the rapture of being so enveloped that we know this One, this Love is the ultimate truth of our lives. We wander in deserts of our own despair and the drivenness of our craving to experience and know as much as we can, fearing life is passing us by.
But there is only One thing we truly need, One Love which evaporates our craving in a flood of fulfillment and surprising joy.
You, Jesus, tell me that you are rapt in joy when this happens. So you tell us to abide, rest, remain in the places and faces, the moments and practices where we know that we are loved as wholly and everlastingly as you are by the One Love, the Loving Mystery, you call ‘Father.’
So I flee again to this place to listen and prepare to enter again my daily pilgrimage into the wonder of the divine heart, praying but one prayer: that my heart may open and know One Love.
Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, May 04, 2012
Friday May 4, 2012
Today’s text
John 15:4-5
Remain in me, as I in you. As a branch cannot bear fruit all by itself, unless it remains part of the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty; for cut off from me you can do nothing.
Reflection
This is my quiet space. My escape, my time … in a life when too little of my time seems my own.
None of my moments are mine, of course. It seems selfish and foolish to speak as if life is something I possess. I am not a possessor. Each moment is gift. The breath I breath is not my own.
In this quiet space where gentle music moves the heart, I know life, I know my heart and I know you, Holy One.
This is all the same knowing, not three separate things. I retreat here and my lungs expand, my heart grows quiet, and I am aware of a place I cannot see or describe but which I know is there, somewhere, somehow in me.
It is an intimate darkness where I know and feel your mystery. I know myself connected with you, no, not connected but part of you, inseparable, joined as a leaf in a vine, a flower on a stem.
And I am at peace. The noise of living and the voices of unfinished tasks do not disturb here. There is only me and you, and these tears that tell me I am well, at home and beloved.
My heart rests, knowing that this alone is life and that I should never settle for anything less.
So why, my brother, Jesus, should you tell me to remain, abide, live in the vine? I am part of the vine. My life flows from the vine. It is the essential and inevitable truth of every life.
But that’s it, right there. So many days I turn from the vine, the channel of infinite life and joy, of love unlimited.
Amid the anxiety that has driven me for years, I hurry about, failing to turn, quiet myself and enter that intimate darkness where I rest and watch and knowing I need to do nothing but receive and feel this oneness, this inseparable unity with you are the Source of my soul, of all life and love.
It is possible, even likely to live a life denying that we each a leaf on the vine, but it is a life of anxious striving and fear because it is lived without awareness of our essential truth: We are all part of the vine, who is the Source of our life and peace, our breath and joy.
You, Jesus, are the Source, the human face of the One, the Vine I know in this intimate darkness.
‘Remain, abide in me,’ you say. ‘Rest in me in me, for I am the vine of life. You will find the peace of an intimate quiet in which you will know the Love I am, the Love who wishes to flow in and fill you. Remain and dwell here in me, and your life will bear fruit.
It is from this restful awareness that life and beauty grows.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 15:4-5
Remain in me, as I in you. As a branch cannot bear fruit all by itself, unless it remains part of the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty; for cut off from me you can do nothing.
Reflection
This is my quiet space. My escape, my time … in a life when too little of my time seems my own.
None of my moments are mine, of course. It seems selfish and foolish to speak as if life is something I possess. I am not a possessor. Each moment is gift. The breath I breath is not my own.
In this quiet space where gentle music moves the heart, I know life, I know my heart and I know you, Holy One.
This is all the same knowing, not three separate things. I retreat here and my lungs expand, my heart grows quiet, and I am aware of a place I cannot see or describe but which I know is there, somewhere, somehow in me.
It is an intimate darkness where I know and feel your mystery. I know myself connected with you, no, not connected but part of you, inseparable, joined as a leaf in a vine, a flower on a stem.
And I am at peace. The noise of living and the voices of unfinished tasks do not disturb here. There is only me and you, and these tears that tell me I am well, at home and beloved.
My heart rests, knowing that this alone is life and that I should never settle for anything less.
So why, my brother, Jesus, should you tell me to remain, abide, live in the vine? I am part of the vine. My life flows from the vine. It is the essential and inevitable truth of every life.
But that’s it, right there. So many days I turn from the vine, the channel of infinite life and joy, of love unlimited.
Amid the anxiety that has driven me for years, I hurry about, failing to turn, quiet myself and enter that intimate darkness where I rest and watch and knowing I need to do nothing but receive and feel this oneness, this inseparable unity with you are the Source of my soul, of all life and love.
It is possible, even likely to live a life denying that we each a leaf on the vine, but it is a life of anxious striving and fear because it is lived without awareness of our essential truth: We are all part of the vine, who is the Source of our life and peace, our breath and joy.
You, Jesus, are the Source, the human face of the One, the Vine I know in this intimate darkness.
‘Remain, abide in me,’ you say. ‘Rest in me in me, for I am the vine of life. You will find the peace of an intimate quiet in which you will know the Love I am, the Love who wishes to flow in and fill you. Remain and dwell here in me, and your life will bear fruit.
It is from this restful awareness that life and beauty grows.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
Tuesday May 1, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 4:7-9
My dear friends, let us love one another, since love is from God and everyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. Whoever fails to love does not know God, because God is love. This is the revelation of God's love for us, that God sent his only Son into the world that we might have life through him.
Reflection
It is only in loving that we know you, Lord, and it is only in knowing your love that we have life. You came to the world that we might have life.
So come to me this day that my heart might fall calm and in peace know what life is.
Morning comes again, a spring morning brimming with possibility. But you do not lead me into the sunrise but to this place of silence where I listen to my created soul, seeking to hear you have always existed and always will.
You use my own aching need to bring me here. I need to know you. I hunger to know you not with the mind but with the fullness of heart. Only full hearts know you.
The mind can grasp your possibility. It captures hints of your creative wonder. It grabs your coattails as you pass through our lives. Then, it stammers a few words about who you are, what you are like and what you are doing among us so that we can pretend that we understand something.
But we understand nothing, and all the books that surround me in this quiet space are mere echoes of your life.
True knowledge of you comes not by mind but only the in-filling of the heart by your fullness. Only then do we know the fullness of love whom you are. Only then does your living substance fill us and clear out the cobwebs death and darkness that cling like barnacles to the walls and corners of our souls.
So I come again to this silence, waiting for you who are love to awaken my awareness that love is the Source of my soul. Love is the source of spring mornings. Love is true knowledge of you. Love is the reason I am made, and giving life is the sole purpose of love.
I wait, knowing your love will come and awaken me, warm my heart and fill me that I may know you and truly live … for one more day. It's all I have, and all I need.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 4:7-9
My dear friends, let us love one another, since love is from God and everyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. Whoever fails to love does not know God, because God is love. This is the revelation of God's love for us, that God sent his only Son into the world that we might have life through him.
Reflection
It is only in loving that we know you, Lord, and it is only in knowing your love that we have life. You came to the world that we might have life.
So come to me this day that my heart might fall calm and in peace know what life is.
Morning comes again, a spring morning brimming with possibility. But you do not lead me into the sunrise but to this place of silence where I listen to my created soul, seeking to hear you have always existed and always will.
You use my own aching need to bring me here. I need to know you. I hunger to know you not with the mind but with the fullness of heart. Only full hearts know you.
The mind can grasp your possibility. It captures hints of your creative wonder. It grabs your coattails as you pass through our lives. Then, it stammers a few words about who you are, what you are like and what you are doing among us so that we can pretend that we understand something.
But we understand nothing, and all the books that surround me in this quiet space are mere echoes of your life.
True knowledge of you comes not by mind but only the in-filling of the heart by your fullness. Only then do we know the fullness of love whom you are. Only then does your living substance fill us and clear out the cobwebs death and darkness that cling like barnacles to the walls and corners of our souls.
So I come again to this silence, waiting for you who are love to awaken my awareness that love is the Source of my soul. Love is the source of spring mornings. Love is true knowledge of you. Love is the reason I am made, and giving life is the sole purpose of love.
I wait, knowing your love will come and awaken me, warm my heart and fill me that I may know you and truly live … for one more day. It's all I have, and all I need.
Pr. David L. Miller
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Today’s text
John 10:14-15
I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.
Reflection
I am the Good Shepherd.
All that is in me … I give you. The love I share with the Father … I share with you … that you may know.
I am the Good Shepherd.
Love is not something I do. Love is who I am. I do not love when it strikes me or when it is easy. I do not love only the worthy or the beautiful. I love, and this love is for you.
I am the Good Shepherd.
Friday, I learned again what this means. I was asked to visit a prisoner at the DuPage County Jail. He is the age of my children. Already, he is sentenced to 30 years. But he faces another charge for a violent assault that will likely keep him behind bars for the rest of his life.
The last time I made a prison visit my hair was brown, so I was nervous going to the jail. I didn’t know what I would find, or whether my ministry would be rejected and abused.
But my anxiety didn’t matter. I promised to go, and I went.
The visit was not earth shattering. No great conversion of heart occurred that I could see. We talked freely and laughed on occasion. We were as serious and honest with each other as we could be, given that we were totally unknown to each other moments before.
At the end of our time, we prayed. We put our hands up against the glass, me on one side and he on the other. We prayed for his trial, for courage and strength, for comfort and peace not only for him but for those he victimized. They also face a life sentence of reliving, again and again, the worst moments of their lives.
I wish I knew them. I would like to hear their story and pray with them, too.
There is no happy ending here that I can see, not for anyone.
But driving away from the jail, I knew in my bones what Jesus is means when he says, “I am the Good Shepherd who pours out his life for the sheep.”
He doesn’t ask if the sheep are good, or deserving, or worth the trouble. He doesn’t ask if they scare or disgust him. He just loves each one, the lost and the found, the victim and the criminal, me and you.
There is no hint of turning in Jesus. He doesn’t turn away. He is always turned toward us. His arms are open, no matter what. He lays down his life. Opening his heart, he lets all that is in him pour out … to us.
He wants us to know the love he shares with the Loving Mystery of God. He wants us—you—to know this great love, to share with you loving union of hearts he shares with the Mystery he calls ‘the Father.’
2
I want to know this union of hearts. I have wanted to know this since I was a young child. Sunday after Sunday, I looked at the painting over the ancient, green-painted piano in the church basement. It pictured Jesus sitting on a hillside, staring into space.
It was a poor painting, but spiritually rich. It helped awaken a longing in my heart to share the quiet deep feeling I saw in Jesus as he sat in silence knowing God’s love flowing through him.
I wanted to know what he knew, to feel what he felt, to be filled as he was filled. And this is what he wants for you.
So seldom do we have this, though. There is no turning in Jesus. But there is in us. We turn away. We forget. We neglect and fail to care for our relationship with him.
Life gets busy. We give ourselves to everything that demands our immediate attention, surrendering to all our life and work and recreation seem to require.
Busy and distracted, we turn away from our aching need to rest everyday in the Good Shepherd. We fail to return each day to find our place in his protective love, in his receiving arms, in the quiet acceptance where we feel totally known and completely safe.
Then something happens. Life outside the arms of the Good Shepherd gets hard. Failures and disappointments whisper in the night. Grief and loss, heart wounds and future fears trouble our souls, and the empty ache within tells us we have neglected the one we most need.
We hunger for intimacy with the Good Shepherd, but we can’t feel him near because we have gotten out of the habit of putting first things first.
So we return, again, to the places where we know him, to the music where he sings his love into our soul, to the people whose voices resonate with the Love that fills him, to words of grace he speaks, to a picture or place whose beauty becomes his eyes of mercy looking into our souls and filling us with the wonder of all that is in him.
It is such moments that we know him again, feeling the love of the Good Shepherd.
In such moments, we sit on that hill with Jesus and all that he is flows into us and makes us human again. The shackles of our fear fall away, and we breathe deeply, drinking in the good air of earth. With each breath, he laughs at the joy of giving us life.
And we know … Jesus is the Good Shepherd. He invites to sit quietly with him, to chant his name, to speak the depth of our joy and pain, to open our empty hearts and hands and receive all that is in him.
And as we receive, we know … we are totally known and completely safe.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 10:14-15
I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.
Reflection
I am the Good Shepherd.
All that is in me … I give you. The love I share with the Father … I share with you … that you may know.
I am the Good Shepherd.
Love is not something I do. Love is who I am. I do not love when it strikes me or when it is easy. I do not love only the worthy or the beautiful. I love, and this love is for you.
I am the Good Shepherd.
Friday, I learned again what this means. I was asked to visit a prisoner at the DuPage County Jail. He is the age of my children. Already, he is sentenced to 30 years. But he faces another charge for a violent assault that will likely keep him behind bars for the rest of his life.
The last time I made a prison visit my hair was brown, so I was nervous going to the jail. I didn’t know what I would find, or whether my ministry would be rejected and abused.
But my anxiety didn’t matter. I promised to go, and I went.
The visit was not earth shattering. No great conversion of heart occurred that I could see. We talked freely and laughed on occasion. We were as serious and honest with each other as we could be, given that we were totally unknown to each other moments before.
At the end of our time, we prayed. We put our hands up against the glass, me on one side and he on the other. We prayed for his trial, for courage and strength, for comfort and peace not only for him but for those he victimized. They also face a life sentence of reliving, again and again, the worst moments of their lives.
I wish I knew them. I would like to hear their story and pray with them, too.
There is no happy ending here that I can see, not for anyone.
But driving away from the jail, I knew in my bones what Jesus is means when he says, “I am the Good Shepherd who pours out his life for the sheep.”
He doesn’t ask if the sheep are good, or deserving, or worth the trouble. He doesn’t ask if they scare or disgust him. He just loves each one, the lost and the found, the victim and the criminal, me and you.
There is no hint of turning in Jesus. He doesn’t turn away. He is always turned toward us. His arms are open, no matter what. He lays down his life. Opening his heart, he lets all that is in him pour out … to us.
He wants us to know the love he shares with the Loving Mystery of God. He wants us—you—to know this great love, to share with you loving union of hearts he shares with the Mystery he calls ‘the Father.’
2
I want to know this union of hearts. I have wanted to know this since I was a young child. Sunday after Sunday, I looked at the painting over the ancient, green-painted piano in the church basement. It pictured Jesus sitting on a hillside, staring into space.
It was a poor painting, but spiritually rich. It helped awaken a longing in my heart to share the quiet deep feeling I saw in Jesus as he sat in silence knowing God’s love flowing through him.
I wanted to know what he knew, to feel what he felt, to be filled as he was filled. And this is what he wants for you.
So seldom do we have this, though. There is no turning in Jesus. But there is in us. We turn away. We forget. We neglect and fail to care for our relationship with him.
Life gets busy. We give ourselves to everything that demands our immediate attention, surrendering to all our life and work and recreation seem to require.
Busy and distracted, we turn away from our aching need to rest everyday in the Good Shepherd. We fail to return each day to find our place in his protective love, in his receiving arms, in the quiet acceptance where we feel totally known and completely safe.
Then something happens. Life outside the arms of the Good Shepherd gets hard. Failures and disappointments whisper in the night. Grief and loss, heart wounds and future fears trouble our souls, and the empty ache within tells us we have neglected the one we most need.
We hunger for intimacy with the Good Shepherd, but we can’t feel him near because we have gotten out of the habit of putting first things first.
So we return, again, to the places where we know him, to the music where he sings his love into our soul, to the people whose voices resonate with the Love that fills him, to words of grace he speaks, to a picture or place whose beauty becomes his eyes of mercy looking into our souls and filling us with the wonder of all that is in him.
It is such moments that we know him again, feeling the love of the Good Shepherd.
In such moments, we sit on that hill with Jesus and all that he is flows into us and makes us human again. The shackles of our fear fall away, and we breathe deeply, drinking in the good air of earth. With each breath, he laughs at the joy of giving us life.
And we know … Jesus is the Good Shepherd. He invites to sit quietly with him, to chant his name, to speak the depth of our joy and pain, to open our empty hearts and hands and receive all that is in him.
And as we receive, we know … we are totally known and completely safe.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Today's text
John 10:14
I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.
Reflection: What happens inside
It happened again last Sunday. I stepped to the altar at the close of worship, bowed and spoke two words. “Thank you.”
The words are not planned or calculated. No one hears them, since the final song is being sung. But the words are always there; appearing from a part of my soul I don’t control but can only notice.
“Thank you for letting me part of this.”
For the hour of worship, I have inhabited a space where unfettered grace holds sway, where the anxieties of competition, disease, struggle and uncertain futures are washed away in the flood of a love from the boundless heart of God.
Once more I have received what I need lest I forget who I am, where I come from and for what I am made.
Sometimes, often lately, the hour of worship feels like a bubble in time. Together we step into a space that is not just physical but profoundly spiritual and liberating.
Inside this space things happen that don’t or cannot happen outside this space. Words are spoken that feel forced and awkward elsewhere. People touch and hug struggling friends they haven’t seen all week. Sorrow can be named and prayed, and sufferers can be blessed.
The flurry and worries of daily life may control our time and minds outside this space, but not inside.
When we come inside we enter a realm, a physical and spiritual space where the love of God holds sway, where gentle grace pours healing oil on wounds, whether old or fresh, and human hands reach out to bless.
Inside, laughter at human foibles and frailties sparkles in the air because we know our failures and fears are held in Love Immeasurable. Inside, we know that we are welcome and loved, treasured and delighted in by the Loving Mystery whose grace shines in the face of Jesus--and in the faces around us who know and love him.
Inside this holy space, babies grab my glasses when I take them from their fathers’ arms to baptize them.
Inside, faces are named as they file forward and open empty hands to receive a food that fills the heart with the awareness of that Love who welcomes every part of them. Inside, arms encircle the shoulders of those whose eyes are still moist at the pain of goodbye.
Inside, children hug me, talk back to me, make fun of me and become sacraments of a Love far greater they--or I--can possible understand.
Inside, we sing to the mountains and the seas, lifting our voices, raising our hearts to proclaim the day blessed, a day when all the world rejoices in the gift of life and the truth of Love.
Inside, we take the hand of the person next to us, hold it up and pray an old prayer that has crossed billions of lips, “Our Father … .” Praying together, we feel oneness with another human soul and all those other souls who breathe and need, who fear and laugh, who live and die knowing there is One from whom we come and to whom we go, One who is Love Unbounded.
Inside, our hearts fall open again, and we are able to forgive (or at least to try) the failures and sins of those who have hurt us, recognizing that we are as human as flawed as those who sin against us.
Inside, we become human beings again. The shackles of our fears drop away, and we breathe deeply, drinking in the good air of earth. And with each breath, God laughs at the joy of giving us life.
Inside, we know. We know the Love God is, the Love for which we are intended, the Love we are privileged to share, the joy of that sharing and the hope that the grace that fills our gathering will, in God’s time, thoroughly fill us and all that is.
Until that day, we need to come inside, to step into this space where grace holds sway that our hearts may again be made human and learn to say, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Pr. David L. Miller
John 10:14
I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.
Reflection: What happens inside
It happened again last Sunday. I stepped to the altar at the close of worship, bowed and spoke two words. “Thank you.”
The words are not planned or calculated. No one hears them, since the final song is being sung. But the words are always there; appearing from a part of my soul I don’t control but can only notice.
“Thank you for letting me part of this.”
For the hour of worship, I have inhabited a space where unfettered grace holds sway, where the anxieties of competition, disease, struggle and uncertain futures are washed away in the flood of a love from the boundless heart of God.
Once more I have received what I need lest I forget who I am, where I come from and for what I am made.
Sometimes, often lately, the hour of worship feels like a bubble in time. Together we step into a space that is not just physical but profoundly spiritual and liberating.
Inside this space things happen that don’t or cannot happen outside this space. Words are spoken that feel forced and awkward elsewhere. People touch and hug struggling friends they haven’t seen all week. Sorrow can be named and prayed, and sufferers can be blessed.
The flurry and worries of daily life may control our time and minds outside this space, but not inside.
When we come inside we enter a realm, a physical and spiritual space where the love of God holds sway, where gentle grace pours healing oil on wounds, whether old or fresh, and human hands reach out to bless.
Inside, laughter at human foibles and frailties sparkles in the air because we know our failures and fears are held in Love Immeasurable. Inside, we know that we are welcome and loved, treasured and delighted in by the Loving Mystery whose grace shines in the face of Jesus--and in the faces around us who know and love him.
Inside this holy space, babies grab my glasses when I take them from their fathers’ arms to baptize them.
Inside, faces are named as they file forward and open empty hands to receive a food that fills the heart with the awareness of that Love who welcomes every part of them. Inside, arms encircle the shoulders of those whose eyes are still moist at the pain of goodbye.
Inside, children hug me, talk back to me, make fun of me and become sacraments of a Love far greater they--or I--can possible understand.
Inside, we sing to the mountains and the seas, lifting our voices, raising our hearts to proclaim the day blessed, a day when all the world rejoices in the gift of life and the truth of Love.
Inside, we take the hand of the person next to us, hold it up and pray an old prayer that has crossed billions of lips, “Our Father … .” Praying together, we feel oneness with another human soul and all those other souls who breathe and need, who fear and laugh, who live and die knowing there is One from whom we come and to whom we go, One who is Love Unbounded.
Inside, our hearts fall open again, and we are able to forgive (or at least to try) the failures and sins of those who have hurt us, recognizing that we are as human as flawed as those who sin against us.
Inside, we become human beings again. The shackles of our fears drop away, and we breathe deeply, drinking in the good air of earth. And with each breath, God laughs at the joy of giving us life.
Inside, we know. We know the Love God is, the Love for which we are intended, the Love we are privileged to share, the joy of that sharing and the hope that the grace that fills our gathering will, in God’s time, thoroughly fill us and all that is.
Until that day, we need to come inside, to step into this space where grace holds sway that our hearts may again be made human and learn to say, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Today’s text
John 10:11-12
I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. The hired man, since he is not the shepherd and the sheep do not belong to him, abandons the sheep as soon as he sees a wolf coming, and runs away, and then the wolf attacks and scatters the sheep.
Reflection
There are things we do and things we are. Jesus is the good shepherd, the one who is unconditional commitment, unfettered love for his friends.
Love is not something he does. Love is what he is. It is his nature, his truth, the center of his being. It is not what he chooses to give here or there when the notion strikes him, but the essence of who he is.
So, too, it is the essence of our relationship with him.
There is no turning away for him. He is always turned toward us. His arm are always open, no matter what.
We turn away. We forget. We fail to care for our relationship with him.
Life gets busy, and we cut back where it is easiest. We give ourselves to everything that demands our immediate attention, surrendering to all that life and work seem to require of us.
Busy and distracted, we turn from our aching need to rest everyday in the One who is always good, in his protective love, in his receiving arms, in the quiet acceptance where we feel totally known and completely safe.
Life outside the arms of the good shepherd gets hard. Failures and disappointments whisper in the night. Grief and pains, heart wounds and future fears trouble our souls, and the empty ache within tells us we have neglected the one we most need.
We hunger for intimacy with the Good Shepherd, but we can’t feel him near because we have gotten out of the habit of putting first things first.
So we return, again, to the places where we know him, to the music where he sings his love into our soul, to the people whose voices resonate with the Love that fills him, to words of grace he speaks, to a picture or place whose beauty becomes his eyes of mercy looking right into our souls and filling us with the wonder of all that is in him.
Then, again, we know you, Jesus, and we know you are always good, a word which also means beautiful. You are the beautiful shepherd, whose beauty is the love you are, the love that beckons us to come and rest, to come and know the goodness of a peaceful heart where we are safe, totally safe.
In awareness of such safety, we know you, Jesus. We know what we need to know.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 10:11-12
I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. The hired man, since he is not the shepherd and the sheep do not belong to him, abandons the sheep as soon as he sees a wolf coming, and runs away, and then the wolf attacks and scatters the sheep.
Reflection
There are things we do and things we are. Jesus is the good shepherd, the one who is unconditional commitment, unfettered love for his friends.
Love is not something he does. Love is what he is. It is his nature, his truth, the center of his being. It is not what he chooses to give here or there when the notion strikes him, but the essence of who he is.
So, too, it is the essence of our relationship with him.
There is no turning away for him. He is always turned toward us. His arm are always open, no matter what.
We turn away. We forget. We fail to care for our relationship with him.
Life gets busy, and we cut back where it is easiest. We give ourselves to everything that demands our immediate attention, surrendering to all that life and work seem to require of us.
Busy and distracted, we turn from our aching need to rest everyday in the One who is always good, in his protective love, in his receiving arms, in the quiet acceptance where we feel totally known and completely safe.
Life outside the arms of the good shepherd gets hard. Failures and disappointments whisper in the night. Grief and pains, heart wounds and future fears trouble our souls, and the empty ache within tells us we have neglected the one we most need.
We hunger for intimacy with the Good Shepherd, but we can’t feel him near because we have gotten out of the habit of putting first things first.
So we return, again, to the places where we know him, to the music where he sings his love into our soul, to the people whose voices resonate with the Love that fills him, to words of grace he speaks, to a picture or place whose beauty becomes his eyes of mercy looking right into our souls and filling us with the wonder of all that is in him.
Then, again, we know you, Jesus, and we know you are always good, a word which also means beautiful. You are the beautiful shepherd, whose beauty is the love you are, the love that beckons us to come and rest, to come and know the goodness of a peaceful heart where we are safe, totally safe.
In awareness of such safety, we know you, Jesus. We know what we need to know.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 3:2
My dear friends, we are already God's children, but what we shall be in the future has not yet been revealed. We are well aware that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he really is.
Reflection
Let me see you this day, Jesus. Savoring the sight of your love and beauty, I become as you are.
The sight of you invites us into the inner reality of your life where you are of one mind and heart with the Loving Mystery whom no one has ever seen.
Seeing you is a transformation through which we pass from one state of being to another.
In you, we glimpse the glory of our true humanity, the fullness of what the human soul was created to be. The worry and flurry, the doubt and despair that grips us was never to be our destiny.
But it is our condition in the state of sin. Sin is not this or that moral wrongdoing but a state of the soul’s abiding in which we dwell outside the marvelous awareness that we are always one with the Infinite Source of all life and love.
Our lives are an expression of the divine presence. Our souls are open at the bottom so that the fullness of God might rush in like a river, filling us, so that the substance of our soul and the substance of God’s soul is the same.
But we-- I--close our souls so that all that God is cannot flow into all that we are. We pull away, separating ourselves, failing to return each day to the places of filling, the doors and windows through which divine substance flows, washing away our fears and making us fully human, giving us the laughter of free souls who know the secret of Eternity in their flesh and bone.
But you, Jesus, never closed your heart from the divine heart. This is who and how you were in the world. Your soul remained ever open and flowing with the love that is the substance of the Eternal One.
This is what we shall be and what we become when we truly see and know you. We see a truly human being, and we see the wonder of God, all at once.
In seeing, our souls open up. And the trickle of divine life in us becomes a rivulet, then a brook, then a stream, then a deep river, and amid joy and freedom, we become as you are.
So whatever else I see today. Let me see you.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 3:2
My dear friends, we are already God's children, but what we shall be in the future has not yet been revealed. We are well aware that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he really is.
Reflection
Let me see you this day, Jesus. Savoring the sight of your love and beauty, I become as you are.
The sight of you invites us into the inner reality of your life where you are of one mind and heart with the Loving Mystery whom no one has ever seen.
Seeing you is a transformation through which we pass from one state of being to another.
In you, we glimpse the glory of our true humanity, the fullness of what the human soul was created to be. The worry and flurry, the doubt and despair that grips us was never to be our destiny.
But it is our condition in the state of sin. Sin is not this or that moral wrongdoing but a state of the soul’s abiding in which we dwell outside the marvelous awareness that we are always one with the Infinite Source of all life and love.
Our lives are an expression of the divine presence. Our souls are open at the bottom so that the fullness of God might rush in like a river, filling us, so that the substance of our soul and the substance of God’s soul is the same.
But we-- I--close our souls so that all that God is cannot flow into all that we are. We pull away, separating ourselves, failing to return each day to the places of filling, the doors and windows through which divine substance flows, washing away our fears and making us fully human, giving us the laughter of free souls who know the secret of Eternity in their flesh and bone.
But you, Jesus, never closed your heart from the divine heart. This is who and how you were in the world. Your soul remained ever open and flowing with the love that is the substance of the Eternal One.
This is what we shall be and what we become when we truly see and know you. We see a truly human being, and we see the wonder of God, all at once.
In seeing, our souls open up. And the trickle of divine life in us becomes a rivulet, then a brook, then a stream, then a deep river, and amid joy and freedom, we become as you are.
So whatever else I see today. Let me see you.
Pr. David L. Miller
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