Today’s text

Luke 13:34-35

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’ ”

Reflection

The tenderness and longing in Jesus words cannot be overestimated.

He imagines the city, its peoples and places, the broken bodies of those in need, and the lostness of those seeking a sign that God is near and has not forgotten.

He sees those who care nothing for knowledge of God yet wonder about the inner gnawing they cannot name.

He imagines the hungry and those burdened by poverty and the oppression of Roman occupation. He sees people who need leaders who will lift their spirits with God’s loving presence. He imagines the rulers and bureaucrats who care less about justice than about keeping Rome happy and protecting their privilege and pay.

Jesus sees their struggle for bread and their hunger for Spirit. They live aimlessly for want of the Love who comes and fills them; so that they feel their dignity and live truly human lives of grace, beauty and holy purpose.

He sees … and is moved. His words bear the fullness of God’s holy heart.

“If only … . If only you would come to me. If only you would taste the wonder that is in me. If only you would once be filled with the substance of Spirit I would awaken and pour into you.

“If only you knew me, you would know your dignity, your beauty and the purpose of God in you. If you knew me, no suffering or oppression would steal your dignity, your strength, your beauty or your hope.”

Jesus sees … and longs … for us.

But it is our longing for wholeness and peace, for grace and holy purpose that moves us to cry our, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

Longing for life, we open our hearts and allow ourselves to be drawn into the heart of Jesus. In him, we feel the holy longing of God for each of us, a yearning echoed in our longing for that Love that is so hungry to come and complete us.

Blessed is he who comes … .

Pr. David L. Miller

 Today’s text

Luke 13:31-32

Just at this time some Pharisees came up. 'Go away,' they said. 'Leave this place, because Herod means to kill you.' He replied, 'You may go and give that fox this message: Look! Today and tomorrow I drive out devils and heal, and on the third day I attain my end.

Reflection

Anyone who expects a smooth path hasn’t lived much. Everyone has stuff, stuff to carry, stuff that gets in the way, stuff we could do without.

To speak plainly, there is resistance to what God’s Spirit requires in every life. Some resistances are internal; many are the temptations and fears that keep us from truly being ourselves and fulfilling the hope of our hearts, living out who we are created to be.

Some resistances are external--the attitudes of others, the refusals of our gifts and ideas, the people and situations that don’t change or stand aside so we can move forward with the hopes we have, the missions of grace calling within us.

Years ago, I served as editor of our church’s national magazine. Coming into that office, I wanted to change the culture of the publication to make it easier for staff members to suggest and act on their ideas.

Everyone welcomed the idea, but change was hard. The gravity of established patterns and internalized habits kept us in familiar ruts. It took concerted effort over a long period of time to overcome internal and external resistance before much happened.

Resistance to the good, the true, the beautiful--to the work of God’s Spirit--is not hard to see or find. It is deeply rooted in human egoism, in the desire for comfort and human anxiety to hold onto what power and influence one has. Change is fearful.

Jesus brought the ultimate good and final grace of God’s kingdom. He healed and crossed the boundaries that excluded people from entering the inner circle of God’s love. He made the broken whole and drove out the forces that disfigure human life.

But he encountered resistance almost every step of the way. He was a threat to those in power because he acted with a power they didn’t have and could not understand, a power that was for others not over others, a power that was for all people … not just for a favored few.

So resistance came from those he threatened, from rulers and religious leaders who immediately knew he didn’t fit into their way of living and thinking--and that he didn’t much care about preserving their privileges.

Others resisted because it was just too good to be true. Can God’s kingdom, God’s rule really be for me? And if it is, am I willing to let it change me, how I think and feel, what I do and risk?

Resistance came, too, from within, even for Jesus, who was subject to the same human fears that we all have--fears of suffering, rejection, loneliness, and I suspect there were moments when he may have wondered if what he was doing was truly God’s will.

In each case, he retreated to prayer and then moved forward, having found in his prayer reinforcement of his identity as God’s beloved. He found the assurance needed to stay his course, to reveal God’s kingdom … to share the soul of God within him.

His way is the way to which we are called. Not an easy path, but the path the Spirit writes inside each human soul. Only in listening closely to the heart of God within can we find … again and again … the strength needed to walk the path of grace when resistance comes.

Pr. David L. Miller

 Today’s text

Genesis 15:1-6

After these things the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision, ‘Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.’ But Abram said, ‘O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?’ And Abram said, ‘You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir.’ But the word of the Lord came to him, ‘This man shall not be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir.’ He brought him outside and said, ‘Look towards heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.’ Then he said to him, ‘So shall your descendants be.’ And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.

Reflection

An old man looks into the future and sees … nothing, no legacy, no promise, nothing that endures and no one who will carry his soul and hopes into the future.

He looks into the darkness of his heart, but you lead him into another darkness, Holy One. You lead him outside his tent and bend his neck the other way.

You turn his face from the ground to the stars and tell him to do the impossible … to count the billion points of light burning in the cold immensity of space. No, more.

“How many?” You ask. “How many? Go ahead and count. Tell me how many you see.

“That’s how many descendents you shall have. That’s how many blessings will come. That’s how many will know the blessing of my faithful promise.”

Go, look up. Look at the stars and imagine.

Imagine the power that fashioned and still creates them as they burst into being and flame out thousands of times each day. Imagine the yawning immensity of space.

See the unique beauty of each star, some a bare twinkle that seems to blink out if you don’t look hard. Others shine so brightly their refection glows in the night on lakes and rivers by which you stand.

Imagine and see.

See not the starts but their Infinite Source, the Promiser who says all things are possible with me. Imagine being addressed by this Greatness.

Imagine your face in the loving and gentle hands of this One who lifts your head from the ground to the stars that you may see, hope and know the staggering love who holds your life.

Imagine it all, and know: This is not your imagination. It is your reality.

Pr. David L. Miller

Today’s text

Deuteronomy 26:1-9

When you have come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance to possess, and you possess it, and settle in it, you shall take some of the first of all the fruit of the ground, which you harvest from the land that the Lord your God is giving you, and you shall put it in a basket … . When the priest takes the basket from your hand and sets it down before the altar of the Lord your God, you shall make this response before the Lord your God: ‘A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought us out of Egypt … and brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.

Reflection

You shall remember, for remembering restores and reinforces identity. It tells you who you are, where you have come and what you shall do.

When Israel came into the promised land the first fruits every year were to be offered to God as an offering that they might remember what had happened to their ancestors and how they came to be in this good and gracious place.

They brought offerings not because God needed to be fed but because they needed to offer themselves in thanks, a way of celebrating and reliving the goodness of God and of the life they lived, lest they forget who they are.

Those who forget begin to live in ways that contradict their inner being, their character. They get lost, allowing others to choose how they see and act.

The ways and opinions of those around them assume the role of their own conscience, and they no longer act according to their own purpose

The central question of living as a child of God is to remember and ask, “Who am I? Who are we, and what does this mean for how we should live and act?”

Like the ancient people of faith, we need to remember are people who have received many rich blessings. We receive life as gift. We didn’t make ourselves or fashion creation.

In this good land, we receive a way of living that is the envy of most of the world.

No less than the people of Israel, we are chosen, wanted and loved by God who writes our names on the palms of his hands.

The Holy One claims us in our baptism, fills our empty hands and hearts with the bread of life and pours unmerited forgiveness and constant love into our being through every beauty, every gift and every love we know--each a sacrament of the love of God who seeks to touch us each day and make us truly alive.

Who are we? We are a people gifted, a people bound to greet each day with two words. “Thank you.”

When we don’t we begin our days this way we begin to forget, and consequences soon come.

Our joy and gratitude for life is diminished. We are more likely to be saddened when life challenges. We are weaker.

Who are we? We are a people bound to celebrate the love of the God who seeks us at every hand. We are a people who can bask in the knowledge that there is nothing in all creation that can stop the constant loving of God … for us.

This makes a people bound for joy, for strength, for hope, a generous people who have received much and share generously.

That’s who we are. When we remember the days are beautiful, laced with gratitude and our hope is boundless.

Remember, … and live.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 126:1-2

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
   we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
   and our tongue with shouts of joy.

Reflection

Sometimes our reality outstrips our hopes and expectations. Sometimes what comes to us exceeds what we thought was possible. So it was for your people, Holy One, when they returned from exile, home to Zion, the city of their sweetest dreams.

Their longings were fulfilled, and they breathed the fresh air of the home to which they never expected to return.

Their story is my story, our story, for we live so much of our lives in exile, far from home.

You made us for this earth, to tend and till, care and nurture with our hands and hearts, giving all that we are to the life of this precious planet and the lives therein.

This is home, this is life, this is our place of being. Joy comes as we give our hearts away in care and nurture of what you have made and given us. Heaven is not our home … this is. This is where you placed us to live, to grow and love.

Yet, this is not quite home.

We do our work, care for homes and families, jobs and community, striving to do and be all we can be, all the while hoping and craving something more, fearing it will never come, distressed that we may never reach it.

A sense of exile disturbs the soul.

We long for unity in love with the Love who made us. We seek the More beyond whom no more is or can be.

We try to still our restless longings with success or money, fun and ever-more crowded schedules, but these never fully satisfy the soul’s desire for more. We will always want more.

Except, … there are moments when we feel ourselves inside the More you are, Holy One, and we enter a home that exceeds every expectation of joy and peace we have ever had.

Moments come, faces appear, grace and beauty find us, touch us, fill us, carry us away into the Heart that is the home our hearts seek.

Every biblical story about God’s exiled, wandering people hungry for home, every story, myth and fairy tale that speaks of separation from home, from lost love or from a promised land not yet found--all of this speaks our soul’s unsatisfied longing to enter the heart of God.

But even in this life, moments come when our longings are stilled, when dreams are fulfilled, when reality exceeds hope and expectation, and our souls are released in joy.

And God’s dream for us comes true.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, February 11, 2013

 Today’s text

Psalm 32:10-11

Many are the heartaches
  of those separated from Love;
Steadfast love abides with those
  who surrender their lives into
     the hands of the Beloved.
Be glad and rejoice,
  all you who walk along the path of truth!
And shout for you, all you upright,
  of heart.

Reflection

Late Sunday afternoon. The day is soon spent, but well-spent among your people, listening and loving, praying and singing.

Once more, I witnessed tears welling in the eyes of those facing threats to life and health, and I was hugged by grinning children who know they are safe and treasured, their smiles a reminder of that grace we sought in this sanctuary.

Sought and found, my Lord.

Dispersed from our Sunday gathering, we retire to living rooms and feel the weariness of winter as an anemic February sun fades into shades of gray.

Monday will soon be here, and our flagging energy seems unequal to the task.

So I retreat to this quiet place where I listen in my heart for your Heart, seeking that inner point of soul where the energy of your ceaseless loving flows into me.

I surrender my weariness into your accepting arms and rest. That is all I want, but I receive more.

A surge of joy and surprising energy lifts my heart and chases off Sunday afternoon lethargy. Weariness is replaced by a smile of knowing that there is enough for me here in this place and in this soul, enough for all of us.

I feel connected. There is no separation from your love. The influx of your constant loving stirs my body to a strength for life that shall always be there for me, for you always are loving.

You are steadfast. So little do we understand this.

Nothing in our lives is steadfast and sure, certainly not our physical resources on Sunday afternoons. Everything we know … and touch … and are … withers and wanes, sooner or later. All that rises falls. Every flower fades. It’s only a matter of time.

But not you. You are Steadfast Love.

You are a ceasless stream of grace that never runs dry; a boundless love that is always enough for us, stirring that joy that lifts the soul and makes us strong.

We come in weakness to you, Holy Love, seeking solace for the fatigue that weighs our souls and shoulders. Feeling far from you, our hearts grow cold, cynical and small.

But you never cease to pour the warm stream of your divine blood into our veins that we may return to the joy and love and beauty we each are, vessels of your life.

We want too little, Lord. I came to this place after moping about on a lazy afternoon, wanting only to be held and comforted. But you filled me with gladness and joy, the flow of your constant loving.

That is who you are … Steadfast Love.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, February 8, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 32:6-7

Let all who are faithful
   offer prayer to you;
at a time of distress, the rush of mighty waters
   shall not reach them.
You are a hiding-place for me;
   you preserve me from trouble;
   you surround me with glad cries of deliverance.

Reflection

I can never bypass the simple fact, O Lord, that you seek my joy.

You come to me again and again to gladden my heart, deliver me from my fears, raise me when I am down and rescue me from the distress that seizes my soul.

You preserve me from all that prevents my heart and life from shining like the sun, hiding me in the heart of your love where I know what I most need to know.

This winter morning you fill me once more with the grace of gladness.

Night has gone. Dawn is breaking. The world wakes, and I receive another day, another chance to face the sun and feel the rain, another day to taste and share grace in this crazy world, another chance to laugh with the lives around me, another day to melt the tears of the troubled, another chance to find my way and to let you, Lord, find me in the midst of it all.

I am here, alive in a world where love shines in the eyes of those who assure me of the worth and beauty of my life, awakening my soul to the splendor of all life

I have another day to be thankful for what is, for who I am and for all I get to see and do and feel each day.

Thankfulness is powerful. It delivers my heart from sadness. It lifts me above the rushing waters that wash away peace of mind. It cleanses the soul of self-doubt, nagging fears and the obsession with troubling thoughts.

So I will ride the wings of gratitude into the joy and strength I need to live this day well, thanking you once more for all I have, all you give me each day.

But it is not such things, such blessings that most rescue my soul from being lost amid the weight and troubles of life.

It is you, knowing you, knowing the love you are, feeling the desire in your heart for me, becoming aware once more that you long for me to live with joy, free from all that drains the delight of living and loving from my face.

It is knowing and feeling your desire that fills me with the grace of gladness and allows me to give my heart and mind away as freely as you give your love to me.

So I come … once more … to this quiet morning place where I feel your desire for me … and in me, hoping that the lightness of being will fill me again with gratitude for another day to know you.

I just want to know you. It is all I really need.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 32:1-5

Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven,
   whose sin is covered.
Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity,
   and in whose spirit there is no deceit.
While I kept silence, my body wasted away
   through my groaning all day long.
For day and night your hand was heavy upon me;
   my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.
          Selah
Then I acknowledged my sin to you,
   and I did not hide my iniquity;
I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord’,
   and you forgave the guilt of my sin.
          Selah

Reflection

Shall I hide from you, O God? I can no more hide from you than I can hide from myself. Less.

My secrets haunt me in the night, accusing me until I acknowledge who and what I am. Until then, there is no sleep. The hours are lost, and energy flags. Morning comes, and fatigue remains for neither body nor soul can rest in peace without a clear mind and an honest heart.

The heart withers, its strength fades for want of integrity, not for lack of perfection.

Perfection does not belong to the human realm. It is not within our grasp. We can move toward greater dignity and humanity, but purity of heart and completion of what we are as human souls lies beyond earthly existence.

But it is not our imperfection, our betrayals or sins that most haunt the soul or disturb us in the night.

It is our resistance to be honest about who and what we are, our refusals to align our lives and actions with the deepest convictions of our hearts, so that the face we show the world is not the face we see in the mirror.

There may be no greater fear that that of being known, of revealing who we are, what we have done and the contradictions and confusion we feel inside. We are each a mystery to ourselves, never quite understanding why we do or say some of the things that come out of us.

Certainly, sin dwells in our mortal bodies, seeming to have a life of its own that we can little control.

But our sin and wrongdoing, our failures to be the people God intends us to be need not be a burden for us, nor a distress in the night.

Failures and sin, our imperfection and offenses are either a barrier or a bridge.

They are either prevent us from knowing and feeling the grace of God that always welcomes us, or they are the bridge over which we walk into arms of mercy and compassion.

They are dead weight that burdens our souls, or they are wings on which we fly into grace that sets our hearts free to live, to love, to blessedly be ourselves.

The difference is our willingness--or not--to speak our hearts to the heart of Mercy.

The choice is always ours, and our happiness rests on your choice … to hide or to fly into the arms of Mercy.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 63:5-8

My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast,
   and my mouth praises you with joyful lips
when I think of you on my bed,
   and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
   and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
   your right hand upholds me.

Reflection

In the darkness of early morning, I chant my thanks to you, hoping my praise will carry me into the sweetest joy of my life.

I hunger once more to feel your presence around me, for I have known you in the darkness and in the light and on nights when I called out for the peace only you can bring.

So I call to you again even as I cling to moments I felt myself inside your love, held as in a cocoon, sheltered so close there was no separation between my heart and yours.

I remember chanting into the darkness as I lied in a borrowed bed in Pennsylvania. Covers pulled over my head, sleep would not come for the joy of having spoken from the depth of my heart, telling what I had seen and known of you as I traveled to places far and near.

“Thank you,” I repeated. “Thank you,” over and over. “Thank you for letting me see and know and praise you.”

Wherever I traveled in those days I went looking for you, not just for stories to tell or adventures to share, but you.

Sharing the grace amid the pain of those places carried me into your heart, so that your love surrounded me. I knew you as close as my breath, as warm and inviting as the covers pulled over my head.

I would tell my stories, no, your stories, stories of your life amid the life of this broken but beloved world. Gratitude would fill me that you should allow me to see and tell … and in the telling to know you more deeply.

I went looking for you, and you found me. I told stories, and you found my heart in every one, moving me to chant my thanks into the darkness.

Now, the morning comes once more, and I thirst to know you as fully as in those moments of sharing and telling. In knowing you, my soul swells with joy, and I savor the sweet satisfaction of soul you bring.

So I chant my thanks for the day, for the light, for one more chance to love and be loved, hoping my soul will be lifted into your presence.

And from the darkness of my soul comes that voice I know. “Go into the day,” you say. “I am there. Go, see, tell and share. I will find you amid the stories of your life, and you will know me in the telling. This is your way with me and my way in you.

“It is not my way with everyone, but I will come and satisfy the soul of all who hunger for me. They need only open their hearts to see the places I find them, the way that leads to joy, the place I shadow their lives.”

Just so, we know the way of joy … every morning.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 63:2-4

I have gazed on you in the sanctuary,

   seeing your power and your glory.

Because your faithful love is better than life itself,

   my lips will praise you.

So I will bless you as long as I live;
   I will lift up my hands and call on your name.

Reflection

I watched a girl stand and sing, eyes closed, thick black hair falling on her shoulders, framing Latina features.

She spread her arms at her side, lifting them slightly as we sang, “Glorious light of heavenly glory,” the evening hymn with which we put the day to bed, giving it back to you, Holy One.

She is 11, I later learned, a guest among us, but her age doesn’t matter, only her beauty.

Standing by her mother and sister, she sang, and I fell silent, feeling privileged to be in the same room with her, breathing the same air, caught up in the same song, lifted by the same love.

I am not worthy to stand near the sincerity of such a soul who, at tender age, loves you Lord, already finding her true home in a love better than life itself, a love that surely honors and savors her beauty.

I want to kneel at her feet and thank her for saving my weary soul on a cold February evening.

You are her beauty, Holy One, shining through the simplicity of the love that pours from her. I see her and know that your love seeks only one thing … to love us so that we shine with the glory of this girl who has no idea of her beauty, but most certainly knows you, its Source, and knows you better than I can.

You fill the hearts of children, Holy One, lifting them above us, their elders, so that they may teach us simplicity of heart.

Your glory shines in the simplicity of loving, trusting hearts, moving us to lift our arms and souls to praise you beyond our tortured questions and cynical doubts, beyond our fears of showing our hearts and looking foolish, beyond our minds’ futile attempts to understand and manage you, so that we may maintain the illusion that we are in control and do not really need you.

But I do. I need to see your glory in the sanctuary and be raised to life again and again by you, by your love, which is better than life … and stronger than death.

Pr. David L. Miller

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 63:1

O God, you are my God, I seek you,
   my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
   as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

Reflection

It is not water for which I pray, O Lord. It is for you.

You are the water of life, the freshening coolness I crave when the way is unclear, when my efforts teeter at the edge of failure and the goodness I would grasp slips through my fingers.

You are the comfort that moistens my withered heart and makes it large again. You make rivers of hope spring up in me, so that my heart expands and I know all is well, and everything will find its place.

Your gentle love quenches my parched heart, worried and wasted by fear and doubt, by the melancholy and pessimism that comes so easily to me.

You come with living water that cools my fevered mind and saves my heart from death. You wash away the sadness of this dry soul, restoring that smile of joy and anticipation, the smile of knowing that love abides and always will.

You lift my heart from gloomy despondence into lightness of being so that I rise into my better self, a soul of grace and joy as I know you in my depths.

There are moments I want to disappear. My heart gets so lost in sadness and disappointment. I despair of happiness and wonder if I have or can give anything of value.

I thirst, O Lord, for this confused heart to be known and to know the joy of communion with other souls who know and love you.

You find me each time my soul withers. You tilt back my head and pour waters of life and joy, hope and peace, love and lightness from your inexhaustible heart into my own, and I live once more.

Until the next time thirst chokes life from my heart. And it always does, sooner or later.

Still, I will not despair but live. I will not grow weary or faint. I will not sink beneath my sadness. I walk with joy into each new day knowing the cooling freshness of your love will find me each time I get lost.

Music of your gentle heart will reach my ear, beauty will appear before my tired eyes, smiles will shine on this heart of mine, and I will drink from that stream of life and love that never runs dry.

I will taste the wonder of your love that has always found me through the years, and with a full heart I will sing with joy, thanking you finding me … once more

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 27:7-10

Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud,
   be gracious to me and answer me!
‘Come,’ my heart says, ‘seek his face!’
   Your face, Lord, do I seek.
   Do not hide your face from me.

Do not turn your servant away in anger,
   you who have been my help.
Do not cast me off, do not forsake me,
   O God of my salvation!
If my father and mother forsake me,
   the Lord will take me up. 

Reflection

I do not know if there is anything more powerful than a smile. A smile instantaneously assures the soul that all is well, and when all is not well we look to those faces of love in our lives seeking that smile, that sparkle of eye that lifts us back into ourselves, so that we know.

Our heart needs to know that there is a love that shines … and glows … with the light of love when it looks upon us, filling us with awareness of unconditional delight in our very existence.

Every child ever born turns again and again, looking for its mother’s delighted smile, seeking to live in the glow of love unearned and immeasurable. In hurt or joy, when they succeed or fall, little ones look again and again for this grace in the eyes of a love they cannot begin to understand.

But in those eyes they know what they need to know.

Our ever-so-human need to know, to feel this, speaks of the deepest need of our existence, a need built into us by the One who is the Source of our life.

We hunger to feel oneness, inseparable unity, with the Mystery who is the Unconditional Source of all life and of our breath and joy.

Feeling alone and separated, our hearts shrink and shrivel in sadness, longing for the smile of divine delight. Our hearts cry out to feel and know we are not alone … that the Presence of the One who is Love still shines for and on us.

Feeling this, knowing this, we are lifted into life even in the worst of times.

I open my e-mail and read of a beloved father for whom every day brings more threatening medical diagnoses. Each test performed brings news more dire than the previous.

Weariness descends on his heart and the hearts of all who love him.

What shall we do? Continue to treat? Give up? Can there be longer life? Will that life be worth living?

Amid the sorrow of the time, the heart cries out, “Do not turn away, O God. Do not hide your face from us. Do not cast us off. Do not forsake us.

Let us feel again the smile of your near nearness, and there will be life. There will be laughter and joy, gratitude and peace … even in the midst of dieing.

For your smile, the smile of your nearness is enough for us, every single day.

So, turn the beauty of your face toward us in graces of the day and every love we know … that we may know … and live this day from the heart of your nearness.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 27:4-6

One thing I asked of the Lord,
   that will I seek after:
to live in the house of the Lord
   all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of the Lord,
   and to inquire in his temple.
For he will hide me in his shelter
   in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
   he will set me high on a rock.
Now my head is lifted up
   above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
   sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.

 Reflection

There are places that awaken awareness of your Presence, Holy One. I have stepped into old churches and fell silent, eager to take off my shoes, bow and prostrate myself on the floor because I knew and felt you.

I felt the immensity and tenderness of your presence filling every corner of the place … and of me, and I knew this awareness was everything I needed in this life.

Silent reverence was the only suitable language to speak the quiet joy that filled me as your near beauty raised me beyond myself, beyond the day’s troubles, beyond my wounds and resentments, my sins and failures, beyond my work-a day existence.

In silent knowing, there was no doubt that we live in graced world, haunted in everyplace by your Spirit beckoning us home, if only we could hear.

Stepping into your dwelling, I knew … we each are surrounded and held in love as closely and gently as air touches the bare skin of our arms and caresses the curve of our cheeks.

Beholding your beauty, we know this love is all we need and all that really is, all else is illusion.

But where shall we go to enter the blessed place you dwell that our souls may fall silent while our hearts explode with love and wordless gratitude?

We hunger each day to know you this way, but you do not live in a home of bricks and mortar we can simply enter. You cannot be contained in any building or held within any space, although there are spaces you seem to inhabit.

You do not hide in barren winter trees stark against the morning sky, nor do you dwell in the profusion of spring for which we hope amid winter’s death, although nature itself whispers your name.

I have prayed at St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican and found it no more holy, no more moving that this basement place where I come seeking you each day, this place where you so regularly find me and lift me into yourself … so that I be myself.

I have found you dwelling in the eyes and beauty of faces who love more than I know how to love, and in music that transports me to spaces in my soul where you are more real and far more lovely than my gray face in the morning mirror.

But maybe I have it all wrong. Perhaps I do not find you at all. It is you who find me, for you dwell everywhere and in everything but most often I am too blind to see and too deaf to hear.

Still, I will seek you this day, listening and looking with greater care for the Presence of beauty and love, grace and hope, dignity and care that, with joy, I may see that creation itself is your dwelling and every place is holy.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 27:1-3

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
   whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
   of whom shall I be afraid?

When evildoers assail me
   to devour my flesh—
my adversaries and foes—
   they shall stumble and fall.

Though an army encamp against me,
   my heart shall not fear;
though war rise up against me,
   yet I will be confident.

 Reflection

The new day comes, and your voice appears in the depth of my heart, inviting me to live, to throw myself into the day.

“Give yourself away," you tell me. “Hold nothing back. Pour out the strength of your heart, sharing what is in you with the people you meet and the challenges that come.

“Fear nothing, for I am your light and salvation. You dwell in the enclosure of my divine heart. I am strong walls of protection that will not let you be crushed.”

But I know so many are crushed. I see it in my office almost every day, souls bearing the wounds of living that they have carried for decades, scars for which full healing may never come.

Where was their protection? Where is their healing? Where were you when they were wounded? Where are you now to protect them and drive away their fears?

“I am ever here,” you say in my heart. “I am always here, the inner home of love where the deep of your soul touches the Source, the Eternal Soul that I am.

“Though my beloved suffer pains of living and come too soon to their end, there is no end to me, and I take them into myself even as they have always been in me, and I in them.

“You know this. You know you dwell in my love in those moments when you come once more to the end of your hope and strength and turn your eyes to skies … or to that still point within where the flame of love burns … and you know.

“You know I am that flame that warms you. You know nothing can extinguish it. You know no matter what comes, I am, love abides, always.

“There is no predicting all that may happen today or tomorrow. But fear has no place, for I am your today and your tomorrow.

“I do not flee or leave. I am the stronghold of love and life that surrounds and protects you. My walls enclose about you. I am present and near, working in ways you cannot see and will never know.

“Know this, though: I am, and there will never be a day I am not.

“I am, and you can throw your heart and mind, body and strength into whatever you face and do today. Let confidence be your face this day.

“And tomorrow, we will rise and do it all again, for I am your light and salvation. You have nothing to fear.”

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, January 24, 2013

 Today’s text

Psalm 91:11, 13-16

For he will command his angels concerning you
   to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
   so that you will not dash your foot against a stone. …
Those who love me, I will deliver;
   I will protect those who know my name.
When they call to me, I will answer them;
   I will be with them in trouble,
   I will rescue them and honor them.
With long life I will satisfy them,
   and show them my salvation.

Reflection

A beloved old face appears this morning. I hear my tired friend’s shaky voice on the phone as he tries to smile through the sad acknowledgment that he can and should no longer drive.

He is losing his freedom, his body falling at unpredictable moments, control of life slipping away.

Old age is tunnel, ever-narrowing until you can barely move, walk, drive or travel. One just is there, alive, one hopes with someone with whom you can share you time, your soul, your unfulfilled hopes and sweeter memories.

My heart sank as I listened to his tired voice confide the inevitable. I hate it. I hate to see him lose his strength. I hate that the tunnel of age is closing in on him, and I hope his soul will not also be held captive.

I want him to remember his heart is not so worn but remains supple and free. His soul can still rise and touch the Heart that will make his old heart sing in the freedom of one who knows he is so much more than a failing body, so much more than a man facing the darkness.

I want him to know that the Heart of Eternity in-dwells his heart.

He tastes that Heart in every love he has ever loved and in the love he knows even now. He sees that Heart in the beauty the races through his window with each new rising sun. He feels it in those golden rays that awaken hope for a life where the sun never sets.

Call to the Heart, dear old friend. Call to that Heart you know within your own heart. Say the Holy Name. Name his Jesus, Lord. Name him Infinite Love and Constant Friend.

Feel the rays of warmth shining from his face, his arms, his heart, warming your tired limbs.

Call his name. Repeat it on your breath. Feel it fill your heart with love and lift your soul far above the confines of the walls that close around you.

Yourself rise beyond narrowness and fly like a bird, rescued from captivity, soaring and playing on the currents of grace that will never let you down.

They will bear you up until the blessed hour when you fly into the Arms who have always held you.

Until then, old friend, say the name, say the name … and soar.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 91:9-11

Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
   the Most High your dwelling-place,
 no evil shall befall you,
   no scourge come near your tent.
 For he will command his angels concerning you
   to guard you in all your ways.

Reflection

An almost three-year old sits in a high chair while he and his family wait for a waitress to deliver food to their table. The adults and older siblings around him vie for his attention.

Each of them wields a cell phone, taking the little boy’s picture, trying to catch his delight as they tease and play with him. The boy glows and knows their delight in his tender heart.

He knows angels protect him. He can see them all around … and laughs with glee.

There is a shine in a beloved child’s face, a glow of knowing, a delight in living. Such a child knows that love surrounds him.

He looks into the faces of those who treasure him and lights up like the sun. Shame has no place in him. Confidence is the air he breathes, and when fears come he retreats into protective arms.

But life comes, hurts happen, fears attack, and we lose awareness that we live always in the presence of God’s angels, the lives of love that hover near.

We fail to feel the Presence of Infinite Love whose face shines on us with utter delight, seeing wherever we go, feeling every need and wanting only that we should know, truly know, like the heart of a beloved child.

For that is what we are, who we are, and the Love who shines on us wants that we should live in this constant awareness, for the Holy One hungers to catch smiles of delight lighting our souls and shining in our eyes.

God’s desire is no different from the joy of those gathered around the table waiting for their food. They were eating and drinking their soul’s desire … to see and know and the glow of belovedness on their little one.

Basking in the glow, their hearts, too, awaken to the blessed identity that life beats out of us, beloved, surrounded by gracious angels of God’s peace.

But sometimes forgetfulness falls away and we know, like when we sit in a restaurant and see a child glow, lighting our souls with awareness that Infinite Love is our refuge; the Holy One is our dwelling place.

Angels of grace attend us, every step of our way.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 91:1-2

You who live in the shelter of Infinite Light, who abide in the shadow of Infinite Love, will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God, in you alone will I trust.’

Reflection

There is a dwelling, a place of peace we enter and find you, finding, too, the strength to walk freely through the day.

Unlocking the door of our inmost heart through prayer, we step into the place of meeting and knowing, the space where you abide, the place where your eternal welcome lies waiting

Prayer opens the door and carries us to the meeting place, a large room, no, an inner mansion with many rooms, and you are in each one. Each is shot through with filtered light and silent love that says nothing but receives each of us fully.

There is no fear, no anxiety about what comes next. Self-rejection and self-hatred have disappeared for they have no place in the Presence of Infinite Love.

We can wander through the mansion, stopping to look here or there, light streaming through curtained windows, illuminating the rooms, scattering the dust from floors and corners, filling the heart with every comfort of home.

“Here I am; here I belong,” the heart says. This is me, a world within my and every heart, a world I barely knew existed, and you are here, always, waiting for me to unlock the door and enter the place where we are together and my heart knows safety and peace.

Entering this gracious space is easier in my quiet morning place than it will be in coming hours. The time will come to rise from this chair where words find my fingers and carry me into this refuge of heart.

Too soon I will step from the quiet into the noise of living, and the peace and assurance I know here will fade and feel less vibrant and sure.

But this place, this inner mansion where you and I abide will still be there, within me wherever I go.

I want only to abide there, as I walk through this day. I don’t want to lose the awareness of this moment, the knowledge that you and abide together in this inner space where the safety of grace surrounds me on every side.

“You cannot escape,” you say to me. “ I do not leave. I dwell with you all through the day. Each step you take, I am there. None of your steps take you away from me, away from us, the unity of soul we know in this place. That is always … here.

“All you need do is say my name, bring a word to mind, call to me, remember this time. The door will open … and you will know.”

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, January 18, 2013

Today’s text

Psalm 36:7-9

How precious, God, is your faithful love. So the children of Adam take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the bounty of your house, you let them drink from your delicious streams; in you is the source of life, by your light we see the light.

Reflection

Where will I drink today? Who will be the source of water that gives life to my soul? What sight will delight my heart and breathe the lightness of joy into my being?

Yesterday morning could I have guessed a thin boy named Troy would stop me in my tracks? Could I have known that his words, learned from me two years ago, would sit me back in my chair and render me speechless?

I didn’t know, but I know you, Lord, so I should not be surprised that streams of life appear on Thursday evenings as confirmation students scatter.

Troy’s mother approached me at the close of confirmation class as several dozen young bodies fled down the hall. I had prayed quickly at the end of our time, knowing we were late.

But they stayed. They told me my prayer echoed phrases of an ancient prayer I had taught this group years before.

I had forgotten that. But not Troy.

He spoke the ancient words, “Lighten our darkness, O God … .”

I felt his words and the beauty of a young soul not so different from my own when I was 13. I felt a love and longing for you, Holy One, in Troy’s heart … and mine.

And for a moment, I couldn’t speak.

I should not have been so surprised that a delicious stream of mercy and life would appear on a Thursday night, in a confirmation student … or anywhere at all.

There is nothing surprising about it. That’s the way you are. You are a delicious stream reviving my soul and breathing life into me.

And each time this happens I know the greatness of your faithful love. I know there is no need to find you because you find me. Again and again.

And again and again, I go my way in peace, my soul calm and at rest knowing there a God, a Mercy, who lives and flows, bringing delicious waters to the thirsty.

So I wonder, where will I drink today?

Pr. David L. Miller