Today’s text
1 John 2:23-25
“No one who denies the Son has the Father; everyone who confesses the Son has the Father also. Let what you heard from the beginning abide in you. If what you heard from the beginning abides in you, then you will abide in the Son and in the Father. And this is what he has promised us, eternal life.” (1 John 2:23-25).
Prayer
What have I have heard from the beginning? I have heard that you, my brother, Jesus, are the face of the Holy Mystery who long has haunted me. You are the source and substance of Life Eternal, the font and final fulfillment of all life. From the beginning, you are the truth, the love who is the origin of all I see and more I cannot. You are light, and in you there is no darkness, but only purity of Being and Love who fills all time and space--and who seeks to complete me.
You are all this and more I cannot speak. For you are always More, more love, more compassion, more life, more joy, more mystery, more than I can think or imagine. You are always greater--greater than human struggles and sorrow, greater than despair and suffering, greater than our hopes and dreams, greater than our fears and failures, greater than all that troubles and disfigures us body and soul. You are the Ever-Greater One, and you abide in my brother Jesus.
This you have told us from the beginning. And my heart has long known that the contours of Jesus’ life and face are the features of eternity, of you, O Eternal Wonder.
Let us abide in you, Jesus. Teach our hearts to rest and remain in your love and beauty. In that abiding, we meet the love you are, knowing you and ourselves as if for the first time. In you, we discover the unspeakable wonder that, like you, our created bodies bear the Uncreated Beauty of the Ever-Greater One. Amen.
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:20-22
“But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and all of you have knowledge. I write to you, not because you do not know the truth, but because you know it, and you know that no lie comes from the truth. Who is the liar but the one who denies that Jesus is the Christ? This is the antichrist, the one who denies the Father and the Son” (1 John 2:20-22).
Prayer
What do we know of truth but that which you reveal in us, Holy One? And this is no ordinary knowledge. Our knowledge comes not by intellectual grasping but is a more complex reality, a splendid awareness we never possess but which we enter through the door of your humanity and ours.
You invite us to know that Eternity wears mortal flesh, that Infinite Wonder bears a finite face, that Truth Itself cannot be thought but only touched and held. We look upon the face of Jesus and know not one more human life but the Everlasting Love who is the Truth not of this or that but of all that is.
It is true: I cannot think you. But I take in your face, my Jesus, and the faces of those in whom something of your life seems to dwell, and I know the Holy One does not separate matter and Spirit, flesh and Infinity, time and Eternity. You join them so that Truth may be seen and touched, known not by mind but by clumsy hands and disbelieving eyes fumbling over a treasure beyond human imagining.
Who would believe what we have perceived? For we see and know you. Touching and seeing your life, we enter the door of your humanity and ours into love’s knowledge of Love’s speaking and breathing in human flesh, including our own.
Then, we know the truth: Limitless Life dwells in finite flesh. You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you, Holy One? Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:20-22
“But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and all of you have knowledge. I write to you, not because you do not know the truth, but because you know it, and you know that no lie comes from the truth. Who is the liar but the one who denies that Jesus is the Christ? This is the antichrist, the one who denies the Father and the Son” (1 John 2:20-22).
Prayer
What do we know of truth but that which you reveal in us, Holy One? And this is no ordinary knowledge. Our knowledge comes not by intellectual grasping but is a more complex reality, a splendid awareness we never possess but which we enter through the door of your humanity and ours.
You invite us to know that Eternity wears mortal flesh, that Infinite Wonder bears a finite face, that Truth Itself cannot be thought but only touched and held. We look upon the face of Jesus and know not one more human life but the Everlasting Love who is the Truth not of this or that but of all that is.
It is true: I cannot think you. But I take in your face, my Jesus, and the faces of those in whom something of your life seems to dwell, and I know the Holy One does not separate matter and Spirit, flesh and Infinity, time and Eternity. You join them so that Truth may be seen and touched, known not by mind but by clumsy hands and disbelieving eyes fumbling over a treasure beyond human imagining.
Who would believe what we have perceived? For we see and know you. Touching and seeing your life, we enter the door of your humanity and ours into love’s knowledge of Love’s speaking and breathing in human flesh, including our own.
Then, we know the truth: Limitless Life dwells in finite flesh. You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you, Holy One? Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:18-20
“Children, it is the last hour! As you have heard that the antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. From this we know that it is the last hour. They went out from us, but they did not belong to us; for if they belonged to us, they would have remained with us. But by going out they made it plain that none of them belongs to us. But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and all of you have knowledge” (1 John 2:18-20).
Prayer
Jesus, you have been the source of many divisions. It troubles me, always has. You come that we might abide in you and know the Loving Mystery you bear in our mutual abiding. Yet, you who are all life and joy, who are eternal wonder and everlasting peace, are more often a point of bitter discord even among those who believe into you. Or so it seems.
If only, … if only we truly knew you and the wonder you bear, would we then live beyond bitterness, pride and fear in which we tear at each other? Would we find ways to love and honor each other and your holy body, refusing to rend the garment of loving unity in which you seek to dress us and all things? We rip apart the concord you would create among us.
It has been so since the beginning. Bathed in your love, there remain deep wounds in our souls that do not yet know the healing wonder of being loved beyond all reason. We long for this freedom.
Heal us holy Jesus. Only you can. We need to know you; every part of us needs to know and abide in your love. Then, knowledge of you shall fill us, and we will learn the ways of peace. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:18-20
“Children, it is the last hour! As you have heard that the antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. From this we know that it is the last hour. They went out from us, but they did not belong to us; for if they belonged to us, they would have remained with us. But by going out they made it plain that none of them belongs to us. But you have been anointed by the Holy One, and all of you have knowledge” (1 John 2:18-20).
Prayer
Jesus, you have been the source of many divisions. It troubles me, always has. You come that we might abide in you and know the Loving Mystery you bear in our mutual abiding. Yet, you who are all life and joy, who are eternal wonder and everlasting peace, are more often a point of bitter discord even among those who believe into you. Or so it seems.
If only, … if only we truly knew you and the wonder you bear, would we then live beyond bitterness, pride and fear in which we tear at each other? Would we find ways to love and honor each other and your holy body, refusing to rend the garment of loving unity in which you seek to dress us and all things? We rip apart the concord you would create among us.
It has been so since the beginning. Bathed in your love, there remain deep wounds in our souls that do not yet know the healing wonder of being loved beyond all reason. We long for this freedom.
Heal us holy Jesus. Only you can. We need to know you; every part of us needs to know and abide in your love. Then, knowledge of you shall fill us, and we will learn the ways of peace. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:15-17
“Do not love the world or the things in the world. The love of the Father is not in those who love the world; for all that is in the world--the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, the pride in riches--comes not from the Father but from the world. And the world and its desires are passing away, but those who do the will of God live forever” (1 John 2:15-17).
Prayer
How can I not love your world, Holy One? You have made it so rich, alive and different from the boring moon. The gull floats above, silver, white and dark shadow all at once; drifting in sweet morning air that gently embraces the Earth with the promise of day. We begin again. Earth rises afresh, if not entirely pure of yesterday’s dirt, yet somehow washed clean enough for us to imagine today may bring our souls’ deep longing.
How can I not love this? I see you in all of it. The gull glides motionless, flicking but a feather to catch shifting columns of lifting air. She hangs not against morning blues and grays—but in you, soaring in the atmosphere of your eternity.
It is all in you—the sky, the day, the morning glow, the gull, the joy I find in all of it. All of it is in you. The cosmos itself is your body, expressing your creative joy and wonder, your power and delight. This blessed moment and all that happens occurs in you, for apart from you nothing is.
You have made us for love, allowing us to share your delight. Help us to know all things in you, no longer seeing through the eyes of pride or fear and selfishness. For then we seek only ourselves in the things you have made. Instead, let us seek and see you and your love, delighting in all that is for the sake of your creative joy and loving purpose. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:15-17
“Do not love the world or the things in the world. The love of the Father is not in those who love the world; for all that is in the world--the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, the pride in riches--comes not from the Father but from the world. And the world and its desires are passing away, but those who do the will of God live forever” (1 John 2:15-17).
Prayer
How can I not love your world, Holy One? You have made it so rich, alive and different from the boring moon. The gull floats above, silver, white and dark shadow all at once; drifting in sweet morning air that gently embraces the Earth with the promise of day. We begin again. Earth rises afresh, if not entirely pure of yesterday’s dirt, yet somehow washed clean enough for us to imagine today may bring our souls’ deep longing.
How can I not love this? I see you in all of it. The gull glides motionless, flicking but a feather to catch shifting columns of lifting air. She hangs not against morning blues and grays—but in you, soaring in the atmosphere of your eternity.
It is all in you—the sky, the day, the morning glow, the gull, the joy I find in all of it. All of it is in you. The cosmos itself is your body, expressing your creative joy and wonder, your power and delight. This blessed moment and all that happens occurs in you, for apart from you nothing is.
You have made us for love, allowing us to share your delight. Help us to know all things in you, no longer seeing through the eyes of pride or fear and selfishness. For then we seek only ourselves in the things you have made. Instead, let us seek and see you and your love, delighting in all that is for the sake of your creative joy and loving purpose. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, March 12, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:15-17
“Do not love the world or the things in the world. The love of the Father is not in those who love the world; for all that is in the world--the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, the pride in riches--comes not from the Father but from the world. And the world and its desires are passing away, but those who do the will of God live forever” (1 John 2:15-17).
Prayer
To what shall I belong? Shall I belong to today or tomorrow, to a passing moment or eternity? The choice is ever before me, Everlasting Love, as are you.
I have known saints whose gaze is fixed on a vision I did not then see--and now only in glimpses. Not swayed by the convenience or correctness of the moment, their words and actions flowed from a depth of center untouched by popular concerns or the need to please. I sensed stability and steadiness in them. They were not blown about by ever-shifting winds of opinion.
Their words resonated not with the mood of the day but with the stillness of eternity, for they knew what is real and true and lasting: Your loving purpose, your all-enduring and ever-abiding love.
I long for a calm heart and quiet fortitude that I might live beyond my anxious and driven ways. Perhaps such quiet is not your gift to me, but stability of vision is your desire for all your children, me included.
Grant, Everlasting Love, that my heart may be fixed on your tomorrow, on the love that lasts. Turn my eyes from passing desires that distract and dissuade me from loving what you love that I may live with heart firmly fixed on your eternal purpose. By your great love, create in me a calm heart and a quiet mind that all I do may echo the holy stillness of your divine heart. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:15-17
“Do not love the world or the things in the world. The love of the Father is not in those who love the world; for all that is in the world--the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, the pride in riches--comes not from the Father but from the world. And the world and its desires are passing away, but those who do the will of God live forever” (1 John 2:15-17).
Prayer
To what shall I belong? Shall I belong to today or tomorrow, to a passing moment or eternity? The choice is ever before me, Everlasting Love, as are you.
I have known saints whose gaze is fixed on a vision I did not then see--and now only in glimpses. Not swayed by the convenience or correctness of the moment, their words and actions flowed from a depth of center untouched by popular concerns or the need to please. I sensed stability and steadiness in them. They were not blown about by ever-shifting winds of opinion.
Their words resonated not with the mood of the day but with the stillness of eternity, for they knew what is real and true and lasting: Your loving purpose, your all-enduring and ever-abiding love.
I long for a calm heart and quiet fortitude that I might live beyond my anxious and driven ways. Perhaps such quiet is not your gift to me, but stability of vision is your desire for all your children, me included.
Grant, Everlasting Love, that my heart may be fixed on your tomorrow, on the love that lasts. Turn my eyes from passing desires that distract and dissuade me from loving what you love that I may live with heart firmly fixed on your eternal purpose. By your great love, create in me a calm heart and a quiet mind that all I do may echo the holy stillness of your divine heart. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, March 09, 2007
Friday, March 9, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:12-14
“I am writing to you little children, because your sins are forgiven on account of his name. I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young people, because you have conquered the evil one. I write to you, children, because you know the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you know him who was from the beginning. I write to you young, people, because you are strong and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one” (1 John 2:12-14).
Prayer
What is this joy that bubbles from source unseen? What is this buoyancy in which I bob atop restless waves that are powerless now, to drag me to the depths? What is this consolation lifting me above the daily struggle to claim the day as a place of grace?
There is no need for the struggle this morning. The war is done and won, and you have carried the day by some process beyond my perception or understanding. There is just this joy in the morning that flows from the simple awareness that you abide, Eternal One, and abide in me. The evil that disfigures life, undermining the vitality and vibrancy of just being alive is no where in sight. It has fled the field of my soul.
For I know you who are from the beginning. Ask me what I know, and I can only answer, ‘not much.’ My knowledge is poor in concept, poorer still in content. It is but simple awareness of a mystery on which I would bet my life, and have. It is loving awareness of Love Abiding. May I name you this way? It seems fitting.
You abide. Amid the daily and the drab, the demands and destruction, you abide. Amid seemingly forsaken moments of such pain and loss that you are abolished from our vision, you abide. Love abides to overcome the evil that disfigures and destroys--and to give awareness of you who are Love Abiding, the ocean of grace in which we float. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:12-14
“I am writing to you little children, because your sins are forgiven on account of his name. I am writing to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young people, because you have conquered the evil one. I write to you, children, because you know the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you know him who was from the beginning. I write to you young, people, because you are strong and the word of God abides in you, and you have overcome the evil one” (1 John 2:12-14).
Prayer
What is this joy that bubbles from source unseen? What is this buoyancy in which I bob atop restless waves that are powerless now, to drag me to the depths? What is this consolation lifting me above the daily struggle to claim the day as a place of grace?
There is no need for the struggle this morning. The war is done and won, and you have carried the day by some process beyond my perception or understanding. There is just this joy in the morning that flows from the simple awareness that you abide, Eternal One, and abide in me. The evil that disfigures life, undermining the vitality and vibrancy of just being alive is no where in sight. It has fled the field of my soul.
For I know you who are from the beginning. Ask me what I know, and I can only answer, ‘not much.’ My knowledge is poor in concept, poorer still in content. It is but simple awareness of a mystery on which I would bet my life, and have. It is loving awareness of Love Abiding. May I name you this way? It seems fitting.
You abide. Amid the daily and the drab, the demands and destruction, you abide. Amid seemingly forsaken moments of such pain and loss that you are abolished from our vision, you abide. Love abides to overcome the evil that disfigures and destroys--and to give awareness of you who are Love Abiding, the ocean of grace in which we float. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:9-11
“Whoever says, ‘I am in the light,’ while hating a brother or sister, is still in darkness. Whoever loves a brother or sister lives in the light, and in such a person there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates another believer is in the darkness, and does not know the way to go, because the darkness has brought on blindness” (1 John 2:9-11).
Prayer
Love is sight. Anything less is spiritual blindness. I always suspected as much. For when my heart is closed to another human soul not much penetrates my brittle shell. Refusing to love, I remain in the dark, unable and unwilling to see the frailty and truth and of human hearts beating next to mine.
So again and again I pray: Help me Dearest Heart of Mercy. Help me to receive. Open my ears to listen. Make me agnostic again: one who knows he does not know and thus must closely attend to the mystery of those who sit, stand and struggle alongside the enigma of my own life.
Dearest Heart, may I listen and hear, which is to say may I love all whom I encounter for the mystery they are, a mystery hidden in your love. You know them all, and me, which is to say that you love each of us fully, completely, without a moment’s pause. Only love knows and sees the deep heart of another soul--and the heart of the universe, your heart.
To love is to see. To refuse to love is to stumble in dark illusion about who we are and what our life is to be. This day, Holy Light, may I see as you see, to love as you love. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:9-11
“Whoever says, ‘I am in the light,’ while hating a brother or sister, is still in darkness. Whoever loves a brother or sister lives in the light, and in such a person there is no cause for stumbling. But whoever hates another believer is in the darkness, and does not know the way to go, because the darkness has brought on blindness” (1 John 2:9-11).
Prayer
Love is sight. Anything less is spiritual blindness. I always suspected as much. For when my heart is closed to another human soul not much penetrates my brittle shell. Refusing to love, I remain in the dark, unable and unwilling to see the frailty and truth and of human hearts beating next to mine.
So again and again I pray: Help me Dearest Heart of Mercy. Help me to receive. Open my ears to listen. Make me agnostic again: one who knows he does not know and thus must closely attend to the mystery of those who sit, stand and struggle alongside the enigma of my own life.
Dearest Heart, may I listen and hear, which is to say may I love all whom I encounter for the mystery they are, a mystery hidden in your love. You know them all, and me, which is to say that you love each of us fully, completely, without a moment’s pause. Only love knows and sees the deep heart of another soul--and the heart of the universe, your heart.
To love is to see. To refuse to love is to stumble in dark illusion about who we are and what our life is to be. This day, Holy Light, may I see as you see, to love as you love. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:8-10
“Yet, I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining. Whoever says, ‘I am in the light,’ while hating a brother or sister, is still in darkness. Whoever loves a brother or sister lives in the light, and in such a person there is no cause for stumbling” (1 John 2:8-10).
Prayer
Passing away? Do you mean it, Holy Mystery? I heard the news today, and the darkness is well with us. Ancient hatreds erupt in murderous orgies. Greed and the will to power poison as many as ever, maybe more, immunizing human hearts from the suffering and death of multitudes. Violence desecrates our homes. Fountains of tears flow behind the doors of even the best-kept homes.
The voice on the radio reflects on the potential brutality hidden in every human heart. I don’t want to believe him, but there is too much evidence to make much of an argument. Darkness pulls at our hearts, dragging us back toward the primordial chaos from which you first made light, beauty and order. There remains a voice in me, too, that loves conquest more than peace.
Until my heart draws near to you, who are always near. Dwelling in your love, that voice falls silent. Standing before you who are Love Unimaginable, the voice disappears. It vanishes. For where you are, the darkness finds no room. It is driven out.
You, who will fill all time and space, seek to fill me with your love. And there are moments when, to my greatest joy, you succeed. Your love is the light that banishes the ancient darkness in human hearts. You exorcise the voice of violence that loves personal conquest more than the victory of divine grace.
Today, let me live in awareness of you that I may live in your light, a sign of your blessed future. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:8-10
“Yet, I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining. Whoever says, ‘I am in the light,’ while hating a brother or sister, is still in darkness. Whoever loves a brother or sister lives in the light, and in such a person there is no cause for stumbling” (1 John 2:8-10).
Prayer
Passing away? Do you mean it, Holy Mystery? I heard the news today, and the darkness is well with us. Ancient hatreds erupt in murderous orgies. Greed and the will to power poison as many as ever, maybe more, immunizing human hearts from the suffering and death of multitudes. Violence desecrates our homes. Fountains of tears flow behind the doors of even the best-kept homes.
The voice on the radio reflects on the potential brutality hidden in every human heart. I don’t want to believe him, but there is too much evidence to make much of an argument. Darkness pulls at our hearts, dragging us back toward the primordial chaos from which you first made light, beauty and order. There remains a voice in me, too, that loves conquest more than peace.
Until my heart draws near to you, who are always near. Dwelling in your love, that voice falls silent. Standing before you who are Love Unimaginable, the voice disappears. It vanishes. For where you are, the darkness finds no room. It is driven out.
You, who will fill all time and space, seek to fill me with your love. And there are moments when, to my greatest joy, you succeed. Your love is the light that banishes the ancient darkness in human hearts. You exorcise the voice of violence that loves personal conquest more than the victory of divine grace.
Today, let me live in awareness of you that I may live in your light, a sign of your blessed future. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, March 05, 2007
Monday, March 5, 2007
Today’s text
1 John 2:7-8
“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you have heard from the beginning; the old commandment is the word you have heard. Yet, I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining” (1 John 2:7-8).
Prayer
True in me? If so, that’s the best news I have heard lately. For I know what your commandment is. You command what you give, and you give yourself. You delight to share the eternal, uncreated love that is the source and goal of all that is, my source and goal.
Can it be that your love--the holy and eternal necessity of your life--is also true in me? If so, then I bear the mystery of your life and love, and you command me to live according to that which you have done and continue to do in me.
And I know this is freedom, a liberty I seldom fully know but which I constantly crave. I long to be free, loving, moving through my life unencumbered by the impatience, grudges, anxieties, angers, indignities and tender wounds I carry. They are a sack of dead weight, freighting my heart, binding me to the ground when I long to soar. I hunger to delight in the freedom of flight known only as I live the love that you are in me, acting and speaking from the commandment, the principle, the holy and priceless gift at the core of my soul.
Only you can pry this weight of death from my shoulders, and you do. But you, Loving Mystery, don’t pry or struggle: you simply love, and love me. In awareness that I am fully loved and bear this love, the burdens of the past evaporate, and my soul is free to be that command, that beauty that is true in me and in all in whom you are pleased to dwell.
Only your love can drive off the burdens that tie our souls to earth. So let us live aware of your love that our souls may soar. Surely, that will make you smile. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:7-8
“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you have heard from the beginning; the old commandment is the word you have heard. Yet, I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining” (1 John 2:7-8).
Prayer
True in me? If so, that’s the best news I have heard lately. For I know what your commandment is. You command what you give, and you give yourself. You delight to share the eternal, uncreated love that is the source and goal of all that is, my source and goal.
Can it be that your love--the holy and eternal necessity of your life--is also true in me? If so, then I bear the mystery of your life and love, and you command me to live according to that which you have done and continue to do in me.
And I know this is freedom, a liberty I seldom fully know but which I constantly crave. I long to be free, loving, moving through my life unencumbered by the impatience, grudges, anxieties, angers, indignities and tender wounds I carry. They are a sack of dead weight, freighting my heart, binding me to the ground when I long to soar. I hunger to delight in the freedom of flight known only as I live the love that you are in me, acting and speaking from the commandment, the principle, the holy and priceless gift at the core of my soul.
Only you can pry this weight of death from my shoulders, and you do. But you, Loving Mystery, don’t pry or struggle: you simply love, and love me. In awareness that I am fully loved and bear this love, the burdens of the past evaporate, and my soul is free to be that command, that beauty that is true in me and in all in whom you are pleased to dwell.
Only your love can drive off the burdens that tie our souls to earth. So let us live aware of your love that our souls may soar. Surely, that will make you smile. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 2:7-8
“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you have had from the beginning; the old commandment is the word that you have heard. Yet, I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining.” (1 John 2:7-8).
Prayer
Your desire is ancient and enduring, Eternal One. You have inscribed the everlasting yearning, the beating ache of your holy heart in the depths of all that has being—and in us. Thank you. There are days that ache is hard to bear, but in gratitude I know: It is your eternal hunger that keeps me alive, hope-filled and human, as much as I can be.
The primeval command you have placed in our souls is the beating heart of a dawning age, an era of grace when all that you are transfuses all that you have made, and all that is glistens with the loving beauty shining in the face of our brother Jesus.
In him, Loving Mystery, you reveal the brilliance of eternity, the desire of the ages. He walked the tired earth in a faraway, long ago space and lit the world forever. Your uncreated radiance gleams in every step he took, every word he spoke, every movement of his hands to bless, to heal, to make whole. In him you reveal the enlightenment of mind and heart that most matters.
Just for today, help me abide in the ancient desire of your heart that I may be alive with the light of your tomorrow. Amen.
-- Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:7-8
“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you have had from the beginning; the old commandment is the word that you have heard. Yet, I am writing you a new commandment that is true in him and in you, because the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining.” (1 John 2:7-8).
Prayer
Your desire is ancient and enduring, Eternal One. You have inscribed the everlasting yearning, the beating ache of your holy heart in the depths of all that has being—and in us. Thank you. There are days that ache is hard to bear, but in gratitude I know: It is your eternal hunger that keeps me alive, hope-filled and human, as much as I can be.
The primeval command you have placed in our souls is the beating heart of a dawning age, an era of grace when all that you are transfuses all that you have made, and all that is glistens with the loving beauty shining in the face of our brother Jesus.
In him, Loving Mystery, you reveal the brilliance of eternity, the desire of the ages. He walked the tired earth in a faraway, long ago space and lit the world forever. Your uncreated radiance gleams in every step he took, every word he spoke, every movement of his hands to bless, to heal, to make whole. In him you reveal the enlightenment of mind and heart that most matters.
Just for today, help me abide in the ancient desire of your heart that I may be alive with the light of your tomorrow. Amen.
-- Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 2:5-6
“[B]ut whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. By this we may be sure that we are in him: whoever says, ‘I abide in him,’ ought to walk just as he walked” (1 John 2:5-6).
Prayer
There is no choice, is there, Inescapable One? We each abide in something, either in you or in that which is not you. In either case, we become that in which our heart seeks solace, joy and fulfillment. We are transformed into the image of our abiding, walking according to the music we hear there.
And in either case, you continue to abide, refusing to turn away. You remain as near as our breath, inviting us to find our home in you, eager to teach us how to walk as you walk, to see as you see, to be as you are. And you? You are love, and your love pervades all time and space, holding life and being together, inviting us to abide in you, there to find the home for which our hearts are made.
Today, you privilege me. For today I have abided in relationships where I am accepted and corrected, where I sin and find forgiveness, where I give and receive gifts of grace, welcome, laughter, knowledge and hope. Today, you have made me more human than I was only hours ago. And I have done so little. I simply abide, dwelling in these relationships that I have only because I belong to you.
Now, I finish my day, abiding in gratitude for having stumbled into those abiding places you intend for me where, again, I learn to walk. Thank you. Someday I just may get it right. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 2:5-6
“[B]ut whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. By this we may be sure that we are in him: whoever says, ‘I abide in him,’ ought to walk just as he walked” (1 John 2:5-6).
Prayer
There is no choice, is there, Inescapable One? We each abide in something, either in you or in that which is not you. In either case, we become that in which our heart seeks solace, joy and fulfillment. We are transformed into the image of our abiding, walking according to the music we hear there.
And in either case, you continue to abide, refusing to turn away. You remain as near as our breath, inviting us to find our home in you, eager to teach us how to walk as you walk, to see as you see, to be as you are. And you? You are love, and your love pervades all time and space, holding life and being together, inviting us to abide in you, there to find the home for which our hearts are made.
Today, you privilege me. For today I have abided in relationships where I am accepted and corrected, where I sin and find forgiveness, where I give and receive gifts of grace, welcome, laughter, knowledge and hope. Today, you have made me more human than I was only hours ago. And I have done so little. I simply abide, dwelling in these relationships that I have only because I belong to you.
Now, I finish my day, abiding in gratitude for having stumbled into those abiding places you intend for me where, again, I learn to walk. Thank you. Someday I just may get it right. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, February 26, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 2:5-6
“[B]ut whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. By this we may be sure that we are in him: whoever says, ‘I abide in him,’ ought to walk just as he walked” (1 John 2:5-6).
Prayer
My soul is not simple, pure and perfect. I am complex, divided and in pain. This day I thank you for the pain, for it is purest evidence of your presence, your love within this messy soul so far from the perfection of love you intend.
Walk as you walked. I see your walk, my Jesus: blessing children, healing human brokenness with a word and touch, showering compassion on hungry crowds who seek you for much more than bread, suffering rejection for the sake of a world you so completely and irrationally love. A parade of exquisite images runs through my mind. Each brings tears, for you shimmer with an eternal beauty for which my heart has ached since I was small and had no words to speak my hidden hunger.
I have known your walk in my own flesh. There are moments when you, O Blessed Beauty, glisten in words of blessing and healing bubbling from depths of soul where you and I are not two but one. Only then, being perfected in love, is my heart pure, my soul filled with the joy of simplicity, which filled your own soul, my brother. Until then, we are both in pain.
For your joy, my Jesus, is to walk your walk with my feet, my arms and legs, bringing in me the perfection of your love. Grant today, that I may dwell in awareness of your unspeakable love for me that I may learn to walk, as if for the first time. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 2:5-6
“[B]ut whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection. By this we may be sure that we are in him: whoever says, ‘I abide in him,’ ought to walk just as he walked” (1 John 2:5-6).
Prayer
My soul is not simple, pure and perfect. I am complex, divided and in pain. This day I thank you for the pain, for it is purest evidence of your presence, your love within this messy soul so far from the perfection of love you intend.
Walk as you walked. I see your walk, my Jesus: blessing children, healing human brokenness with a word and touch, showering compassion on hungry crowds who seek you for much more than bread, suffering rejection for the sake of a world you so completely and irrationally love. A parade of exquisite images runs through my mind. Each brings tears, for you shimmer with an eternal beauty for which my heart has ached since I was small and had no words to speak my hidden hunger.
I have known your walk in my own flesh. There are moments when you, O Blessed Beauty, glisten in words of blessing and healing bubbling from depths of soul where you and I are not two but one. Only then, being perfected in love, is my heart pure, my soul filled with the joy of simplicity, which filled your own soul, my brother. Until then, we are both in pain.
For your joy, my Jesus, is to walk your walk with my feet, my arms and legs, bringing in me the perfection of your love. Grant today, that I may dwell in awareness of your unspeakable love for me that I may learn to walk, as if for the first time. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Friday, February 23, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 2:3-5
“Now by this we may be sure that we know him, if we obey his commandments. Whoever says, ‘I have come to know him,’ but does not obey his commandments, is a liar, and in such a person the truth does not exist; but whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection” (1 John 2:3-5).
Prayer
You render me a liar, great and constant. For I know you, and I know you are love. I know your command is that which you are and which you give. For you are love, and you give the love you are, bathing and soaking me to the soul, sometimes so fully I wonder if ever again I will speak a cross word, or allow impatience to overwhelm me, or surrender to disordered impulses, or awake in the wee hours filled with anxiety about my life.
But all too soon, the moment of truth fades. Too soon, I live the lie again. I turn from the drenching awareness of your unspeakable goodness to the petty concerns and desires of my pusillanimous heart. Mine is not a great heart, vast and expansive like yours. I am cramped and crowded, leaving little room for anything but me. And it gets lonely here.
So enlarge my heart, Spacious One. Make room in me for all that you love and all you would have me love. Soak my soul in the ceaseless flow of your divine affection. Only this releases my heart’s constriction and grows my soul to truly human proportions. Only this can make me less a liar. Only this enables me keep your commandment to receive and be the love you are.
Whatever else you might share of your goodness, Great Heart, grant me this, for I long to be human. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 2:3-5
“Now by this we may be sure that we know him, if we obey his commandments. Whoever says, ‘I have come to know him,’ but does not obey his commandments, is a liar, and in such a person the truth does not exist; but whoever obeys his word, truly in this person the love of God has reached perfection” (1 John 2:3-5).
Prayer
You render me a liar, great and constant. For I know you, and I know you are love. I know your command is that which you are and which you give. For you are love, and you give the love you are, bathing and soaking me to the soul, sometimes so fully I wonder if ever again I will speak a cross word, or allow impatience to overwhelm me, or surrender to disordered impulses, or awake in the wee hours filled with anxiety about my life.
But all too soon, the moment of truth fades. Too soon, I live the lie again. I turn from the drenching awareness of your unspeakable goodness to the petty concerns and desires of my pusillanimous heart. Mine is not a great heart, vast and expansive like yours. I am cramped and crowded, leaving little room for anything but me. And it gets lonely here.
So enlarge my heart, Spacious One. Make room in me for all that you love and all you would have me love. Soak my soul in the ceaseless flow of your divine affection. Only this releases my heart’s constriction and grows my soul to truly human proportions. Only this can make me less a liar. Only this enables me keep your commandment to receive and be the love you are.
Whatever else you might share of your goodness, Great Heart, grant me this, for I long to be human. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 2:1-2
“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the world” (1 John 2:1-2).
Prayer
For the sins of the world? Is anything big enough to cover this? Is there a heart sufficient to hold them all?
“My heart,” I hear you say. “I hold it all in my immensity, enveloping the sorrowful rebellion of billions in a cloud of belovedness. All that happens … happens in me. I hold it all. I cover it all. I love it all. I heal it all. Bring it all, all that you are, all that has been. It is all in me anyway.”
Blessed Jesus, in your flesh you reveal the truth of every age and life, the dark and holy mystery human eyes cannot penetrate. In your body, we see: the Blessed One unites every corruption of creation with infinite love and constant compassion, holding, bearing and engulfing all that contradicts the loving intention of the divine heart.
Holy Mystery, you take all that is into the inestimable vastness of your heart. It is your desire that nothing should suffer separateness from your boundless joy. For this is your joy, to unite our failed humanity with your love, absorbing bitter human pain and sin into the healing dance of love that is your triune life.
The expansive wonder of your heart holds all that is--and me. May this truth be my vision. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 2:1-2
“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the world” (1 John 2:1-2).
Prayer
For the sins of the world? Is anything big enough to cover this? Is there a heart sufficient to hold them all?
“My heart,” I hear you say. “I hold it all in my immensity, enveloping the sorrowful rebellion of billions in a cloud of belovedness. All that happens … happens in me. I hold it all. I cover it all. I love it all. I heal it all. Bring it all, all that you are, all that has been. It is all in me anyway.”
Blessed Jesus, in your flesh you reveal the truth of every age and life, the dark and holy mystery human eyes cannot penetrate. In your body, we see: the Blessed One unites every corruption of creation with infinite love and constant compassion, holding, bearing and engulfing all that contradicts the loving intention of the divine heart.
Holy Mystery, you take all that is into the inestimable vastness of your heart. It is your desire that nothing should suffer separateness from your boundless joy. For this is your joy, to unite our failed humanity with your love, absorbing bitter human pain and sin into the healing dance of love that is your triune life.
The expansive wonder of your heart holds all that is--and me. May this truth be my vision. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 2:1-2
“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:1-2).
Prayer
Enduring Love, you abide here, with and in us, constantly inviting us to fellowship in your eternal kindness. But our sin isolates our hearts in a cocoon of loneliness that consumes our souls. We turn from you to live by our own devices and strengths, failing to know your nearness.
Little wonder that often we feel so alone. We turn from the mystery of Love Abiding to our own way, fleeing the depth of our hearts, where you invite us to rest in you who long to cherish, to welcome, to fill our emptiness with the fullness of a heart that knows only to love.
Sin tears at our togetherness. It breaks holy fellowship in which we share all, life and fear, mercy and pain, gentleness and joy, confusion and questions.
Still, you abide, constantly inviting us to fellowship with you and your beloved community that we might share all that we are—especially our broken and confused hearts—and know ourselves as you know us, wandering but wanted, torn but treasured, and always yours.
Your love abides, Lord Jesus, constantly calling us home. We offer our sins to you knowing that in your love they become the road to intimacy with you, whom we most need. Amen.
1 John 2:1-2
“My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous; and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:1-2).
Prayer
Enduring Love, you abide here, with and in us, constantly inviting us to fellowship in your eternal kindness. But our sin isolates our hearts in a cocoon of loneliness that consumes our souls. We turn from you to live by our own devices and strengths, failing to know your nearness.
Little wonder that often we feel so alone. We turn from the mystery of Love Abiding to our own way, fleeing the depth of our hearts, where you invite us to rest in you who long to cherish, to welcome, to fill our emptiness with the fullness of a heart that knows only to love.
Sin tears at our togetherness. It breaks holy fellowship in which we share all, life and fear, mercy and pain, gentleness and joy, confusion and questions.
Still, you abide, constantly inviting us to fellowship with you and your beloved community that we might share all that we are—especially our broken and confused hearts—and know ourselves as you know us, wandering but wanted, torn but treasured, and always yours.
Your love abides, Lord Jesus, constantly calling us home. We offer our sins to you knowing that in your love they become the road to intimacy with you, whom we most need. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Monday, February 19, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:8-10
“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us” (1 John 1:8-10).
Prayer
Our lives are constantly barrier or bridge, dearest Holy Mystery. Even our sins are a barrier or bridge. When we hide them our hearts freeze, trapped behind walls of fear and deception. When we confess them the walls about our heart fall flat and become the bridge we walk into intimacy with you who are always near, waiting for us to come home where you may share the mercy that is your life.
You are our home, and your word indwelling our souls speaks the truth of our heart--and of yours. Listening to you, we at once know both you and our own voice, authentic and real, speaking the truth: that we are sinners, failed and fallen, that we are mortal, anxious and fearful, and that we are yours, wanted and welcomed, constantly, by your faithful, unfailing presence.
Help us to listen and love the truth you speak to and in us, even when that truth seems unkind or cutting, even when you tell us what we don’t want to hear. More than anything else, we need your truth, your word--you-- to abide in us that our hearts may rest and find life in you.
We need to know you ever near, within the mystery of our own hearts. So let us hear and receive the truth your word speaks that we may enjoy your presence in us, loving us and welcoming us home. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:8-10
“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us” (1 John 1:8-10).
Prayer
Our lives are constantly barrier or bridge, dearest Holy Mystery. Even our sins are a barrier or bridge. When we hide them our hearts freeze, trapped behind walls of fear and deception. When we confess them the walls about our heart fall flat and become the bridge we walk into intimacy with you who are always near, waiting for us to come home where you may share the mercy that is your life.
You are our home, and your word indwelling our souls speaks the truth of our heart--and of yours. Listening to you, we at once know both you and our own voice, authentic and real, speaking the truth: that we are sinners, failed and fallen, that we are mortal, anxious and fearful, and that we are yours, wanted and welcomed, constantly, by your faithful, unfailing presence.
Help us to listen and love the truth you speak to and in us, even when that truth seems unkind or cutting, even when you tell us what we don’t want to hear. More than anything else, we need your truth, your word--you-- to abide in us that our hearts may rest and find life in you.
We need to know you ever near, within the mystery of our own hearts. So let us hear and receive the truth your word speaks that we may enjoy your presence in us, loving us and welcoming us home. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Friday, February 16, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:5-7
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5-7).
Prayer
You are light. And today it is easy to believe in the fellowship of the light. Today, you lift me into the lightness of being and joy by the luminosity of your presence that glows and elevates my heart to heights of knowing you--and knowing you are love and intend me for the love you are.
The heaviness of recent days is gone, evaporated like so much morning mist in the radiance of your abiding. This time transformation happens in fellowship with companions who love and hope for the same things I do, which is to say, for you. They open their hearts and mouths, and I no longer hear them. I hear you, and again I know that I am not alone.
You keep telling me that, and I keep closing myself within the walls of my thoughts and meager resources until I am overwhelmed by the challenges of life you never intended me to face alone. You never intended any of us to face the day alone, to enter alone the dark night of our sorrows or despair unaccompanied by you, who are light.
Truly, you have made us for yourself. And you shine through the dark corridors of centuries and souls, lifting the lives of billions into the lightness of joy that comes only in the fellowship of the light.
Your brilliance glistens in all in which you are pleased to dwell. And it is your delight that we find the sound of your joy in the laughter of souls with whom we share the fellowship of the light, joined in a common heart, sharing a common hope, alight with radiance not our own.
Thank you for affording me the privilege of sharing fellowship in you who are light; may it be your pleasure that I should bask in and be the light you are. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:5-7
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5-7).
Prayer
You are light. And today it is easy to believe in the fellowship of the light. Today, you lift me into the lightness of being and joy by the luminosity of your presence that glows and elevates my heart to heights of knowing you--and knowing you are love and intend me for the love you are.
The heaviness of recent days is gone, evaporated like so much morning mist in the radiance of your abiding. This time transformation happens in fellowship with companions who love and hope for the same things I do, which is to say, for you. They open their hearts and mouths, and I no longer hear them. I hear you, and again I know that I am not alone.
You keep telling me that, and I keep closing myself within the walls of my thoughts and meager resources until I am overwhelmed by the challenges of life you never intended me to face alone. You never intended any of us to face the day alone, to enter alone the dark night of our sorrows or despair unaccompanied by you, who are light.
Truly, you have made us for yourself. And you shine through the dark corridors of centuries and souls, lifting the lives of billions into the lightness of joy that comes only in the fellowship of the light.
Your brilliance glistens in all in which you are pleased to dwell. And it is your delight that we find the sound of your joy in the laughter of souls with whom we share the fellowship of the light, joined in a common heart, sharing a common hope, alight with radiance not our own.
Thank you for affording me the privilege of sharing fellowship in you who are light; may it be your pleasure that I should bask in and be the light you are. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:5-7
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5-7).
Prayer
You are light, not merely light’s source, but light itself. How can I understand this? I stand beneath a cobalt winter sky, cloudless and cold. The blinding sun of mid-morning burns crystal white on a sea of snow coating the earth and freezing clumps of wet hair beneath my cap as I shovel, sweat and freeze all at once. I look at my boots, at the dull gray shovel in gloved hands, my head down lest I be blinded an intensity for which human eyes are not intended.
You are light. No more can I look into your face than I can face the sun. Yet, as I know the sun on my back, its wan winter weakness notwithstanding, I know you as the power of life, the light of being in all that is. The blinding sun of glistening winter mornings is your art, but did you have to make it so cold?
Without light Earth grows cold and the green shoots of spring never appear. Without you nothing ex-ists; life remains only a ambiguous possibility, for you are the light that shines in all that has life, all that is has being only because it shares in you who are Being Itself.
Light brings life, warmth, illumination, growth, freedom to move about and to see, to be, to live. To say you are light is to say you are life, power, wonder and joy. Yes, you are the joy of what tiny goodness moves me and my machine to my neighbor’s driveway. And though muscles ache, the soul soars, laughter fills my lungs and a shout of (could it be?) joy and determination throws me and my snow blower into the next snowy expanse.
Could it be that this joy is your light alight within me, and that I, too, am your art, the shining sculpture of you who are Light Itself? I think so, but I cannot see. The light is too much for me. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 1:5-7
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5-7).
Prayer
You are light, not merely light’s source, but light itself. How can I understand this? I stand beneath a cobalt winter sky, cloudless and cold. The blinding sun of mid-morning burns crystal white on a sea of snow coating the earth and freezing clumps of wet hair beneath my cap as I shovel, sweat and freeze all at once. I look at my boots, at the dull gray shovel in gloved hands, my head down lest I be blinded an intensity for which human eyes are not intended.
You are light. No more can I look into your face than I can face the sun. Yet, as I know the sun on my back, its wan winter weakness notwithstanding, I know you as the power of life, the light of being in all that is. The blinding sun of glistening winter mornings is your art, but did you have to make it so cold?
Without light Earth grows cold and the green shoots of spring never appear. Without you nothing ex-ists; life remains only a ambiguous possibility, for you are the light that shines in all that has life, all that is has being only because it shares in you who are Being Itself.
Light brings life, warmth, illumination, growth, freedom to move about and to see, to be, to live. To say you are light is to say you are life, power, wonder and joy. Yes, you are the joy of what tiny goodness moves me and my machine to my neighbor’s driveway. And though muscles ache, the soul soars, laughter fills my lungs and a shout of (could it be?) joy and determination throws me and my snow blower into the next snowy expanse.
Could it be that this joy is your light alight within me, and that I, too, am your art, the shining sculpture of you who are Light Itself? I think so, but I cannot see. The light is too much for me. Amen.
--Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, February 12, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:5-7
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5-7).
Prayer
You are light. But my busy soul is stuck in darkness, refusing the loving fellowship you offer. Anxiety grips the heart amid commitments that appeared so reasonable when first made. We look at our meager store of time and resources and wonder: How is it possible to live and breathe deeply the sweet air of life when our bodies scramble to fulfill our promises?
Is this really life in your light? Is this mad scramble what you intend for us? Surely you desire that we find and surrender heart, mind and body to creative labor that reveals your eternal life and love for a world you so love.
But darkness often grips our souls, anxieties, fears, self-doubts, conflicts with self and others, doubts about your nearness and our worthiness. All this and more drags our hearts into the dark prison of self where there appears no way out beyond our feverish and futile labors. Our cramped souls find no room for one more person, one more need, one more request—or for you. The fullness of our days crowds out possibilities for fellowship with your divine light with those among whom you have placed us.
Still, You are the light of all, and our darkness cannot shut you out. The illumination of your light seeks out dusty corners of our souls. Our hunger for More reveals again that we are created for more than the mad rush. What is this desire if not the light or your presence calling us to the eternal life and love for which you intend us?
You are light, and all that is light, every experience and face that illumines our way, shines with your glory. Break into our crammed lives this day. Shine on us and in our midst. Draw us into the fellowship of beloved where the light of your love illumines our darkness and lifts us beyond our fears. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:5-7
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him is no darkness at all. If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth; but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5-7).
Prayer
You are light. But my busy soul is stuck in darkness, refusing the loving fellowship you offer. Anxiety grips the heart amid commitments that appeared so reasonable when first made. We look at our meager store of time and resources and wonder: How is it possible to live and breathe deeply the sweet air of life when our bodies scramble to fulfill our promises?
Is this really life in your light? Is this mad scramble what you intend for us? Surely you desire that we find and surrender heart, mind and body to creative labor that reveals your eternal life and love for a world you so love.
But darkness often grips our souls, anxieties, fears, self-doubts, conflicts with self and others, doubts about your nearness and our worthiness. All this and more drags our hearts into the dark prison of self where there appears no way out beyond our feverish and futile labors. Our cramped souls find no room for one more person, one more need, one more request—or for you. The fullness of our days crowds out possibilities for fellowship with your divine light with those among whom you have placed us.
Still, You are the light of all, and our darkness cannot shut you out. The illumination of your light seeks out dusty corners of our souls. Our hunger for More reveals again that we are created for more than the mad rush. What is this desire if not the light or your presence calling us to the eternal life and love for which you intend us?
You are light, and all that is light, every experience and face that illumines our way, shines with your glory. Break into our crammed lives this day. Shine on us and in our midst. Draw us into the fellowship of beloved where the light of your love illumines our darkness and lifts us beyond our fears. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Friday, February 09, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us. We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and his son Jesus Christ. We are writing this that our joy may be complete” (1 John 1:1-4).
Prayer
What was from the beginning, this we have seen and touched. Where, dearest One? Where do we touch you? Where do we cradle your flesh? Where do we embrace you, or are we more likely to strike or ignore you, however unknowingly?
The idea that mortal hands should touch Eternity exceeds imagination and awakens disbelief. You, the Unnamable Wonder, the Dark Space before whom I wordlessly stand seeking the wisdom of silence: I touch you?
Yet, each day I touch the flesh and lives of human souls, each bearing a mystery they cannot begin to speak, the mystery of being itself. I cradle my grandsons (all too infrequently) always throttled, unable to speak the wonder and beauty of their lives, the miracle of life itself, which you privilege me to hold in my startled hands.
Holding them, or receiving the welcoming embraces of those among whom you have placed me, I wonder: Do I there touch you, the power of Being Itself, incarnate and constantly seeking fullest expression in their lives? As you incarnated your life in fullest human beauty in my brother Jesus, do you do the same here among us so that when we extend our hands to each other we welcome eternity?
If so, then I touch you daily. And our lives, times and places are holy space where you are present, touchable, knowable in what you continue to create as your love seeks and finds expression in the frail fallibility of human flesh, in me, in all I will touch this day.
Help me to see and know you this day. Awaken my senses and soul to you, who are from the beginning and right here, right now. And this you do, that we know the power of your life, the light of your love, the joy or your companionship. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us. We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and his son Jesus Christ. We are writing this that our joy may be complete” (1 John 1:1-4).
Prayer
What was from the beginning, this we have seen and touched. Where, dearest One? Where do we touch you? Where do we cradle your flesh? Where do we embrace you, or are we more likely to strike or ignore you, however unknowingly?
The idea that mortal hands should touch Eternity exceeds imagination and awakens disbelief. You, the Unnamable Wonder, the Dark Space before whom I wordlessly stand seeking the wisdom of silence: I touch you?
Yet, each day I touch the flesh and lives of human souls, each bearing a mystery they cannot begin to speak, the mystery of being itself. I cradle my grandsons (all too infrequently) always throttled, unable to speak the wonder and beauty of their lives, the miracle of life itself, which you privilege me to hold in my startled hands.
Holding them, or receiving the welcoming embraces of those among whom you have placed me, I wonder: Do I there touch you, the power of Being Itself, incarnate and constantly seeking fullest expression in their lives? As you incarnated your life in fullest human beauty in my brother Jesus, do you do the same here among us so that when we extend our hands to each other we welcome eternity?
If so, then I touch you daily. And our lives, times and places are holy space where you are present, touchable, knowable in what you continue to create as your love seeks and finds expression in the frail fallibility of human flesh, in me, in all I will touch this day.
Help me to see and know you this day. Awaken my senses and soul to you, who are from the beginning and right here, right now. And this you do, that we know the power of your life, the light of your love, the joy or your companionship. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us. We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and his son Jesus Christ. We are writing this that our joy may be complete” (1 John 1:1-4).
Prayer
Timeless Mercy, we are more connected with you than we can know. Our joy, our delight, the completion of our lives—your life and ours—are not two things but one. Your own divine life is not fulfilled unless the joy for which we are created overflows our souls, even as your heart bubbles over and flows in a living stream of life and love through all creation.
You tie the completion of your divine life to us, to me. And you dwell in holy unrest until the fullness of life and joy you intend fills and lifts me to the fullness of life that is your joy to share. Failing this, neither you nor I know the completeness that is you divine desire and intention for all that is.
You live dangerously, my Lord, my Friend, for in loving me, you need me, even as I need you. Yet, again and again I flee the joy of fellowship with you and yours, pouring my anxious heart into the crush of daily duties and myriad detail in which I lose myself, my heart—and you. My words lose weight and wisdom. I grow soulless, restless, joyless.
And I hunger for what you love to give—the eternal splendor of your own life. That hunger haunts me today. But even this dis-ease is gift and joy. I name the hunger and a strange thing happens. The tattered fellowship between us suddenly grows rich and full, as if the hunger in my depths is not my yearning but your divine life, pulsing at that unsearchable point where you heart and mine are not two, but one.
This oneness, this sharing of life is my highest joy, the secret hiding behind my smile. In fellowship with you, I am alive in a way I am nowhere else. Thank you. Let me live with you today so that our joy may be complete. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us. We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and his son Jesus Christ. We are writing this that our joy may be complete” (1 John 1:1-4).
Prayer
Timeless Mercy, we are more connected with you than we can know. Our joy, our delight, the completion of our lives—your life and ours—are not two things but one. Your own divine life is not fulfilled unless the joy for which we are created overflows our souls, even as your heart bubbles over and flows in a living stream of life and love through all creation.
You tie the completion of your divine life to us, to me. And you dwell in holy unrest until the fullness of life and joy you intend fills and lifts me to the fullness of life that is your joy to share. Failing this, neither you nor I know the completeness that is you divine desire and intention for all that is.
You live dangerously, my Lord, my Friend, for in loving me, you need me, even as I need you. Yet, again and again I flee the joy of fellowship with you and yours, pouring my anxious heart into the crush of daily duties and myriad detail in which I lose myself, my heart—and you. My words lose weight and wisdom. I grow soulless, restless, joyless.
And I hunger for what you love to give—the eternal splendor of your own life. That hunger haunts me today. But even this dis-ease is gift and joy. I name the hunger and a strange thing happens. The tattered fellowship between us suddenly grows rich and full, as if the hunger in my depths is not my yearning but your divine life, pulsing at that unsearchable point where you heart and mine are not two, but one.
This oneness, this sharing of life is my highest joy, the secret hiding behind my smile. In fellowship with you, I am alive in a way I am nowhere else. Thank you. Let me live with you today so that our joy may be complete. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the world of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us. We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and his son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:1-3).
Prayer
Dearest One, whatever else I may know today, let me know you. Allow me the privilege of fellowship with you who are the overflowing fountain of eternal life and boundless love.
The fellowship you offer is in our hands and hearts, tangible and visible. We touch and hear your eternal life. We feel you coursing our souls, moving us to hope and to love, to give and to be given to you and all you love.
I know the life you are in words preached and spoken, in sacraments of meager bread filling up empty hands and my heart with a joy and love uncrushed even by busiest days and bouts of melancholy. I know you in faces appearing at my door no matter how banal or common their need or request. In them I see your desire to enter this world deeply and without reservation, to bathe yourself in its pathos and struggle to live and to laugh. It is a desire beyond their own, and I wonder if they know they Wonder they bear.
The eternal life you are rushes through my veins and arteries filling me with your divine longing to give this love that bubbles from source unsearchable in the darkness of my depths. You awaken desires to bathe in and become this love in which I know myself more fully alive than I am anywhere else.
Tell me, is this fellowship with you? If so, I want nothing else. So give me, give us this day such fellowship with you. Release in us the energy of eternity that the environments of our lives may fill with you, the bubbling fountain eternal life and joy. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the world of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us. We declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and his son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:1-3).
Prayer
Dearest One, whatever else I may know today, let me know you. Allow me the privilege of fellowship with you who are the overflowing fountain of eternal life and boundless love.
The fellowship you offer is in our hands and hearts, tangible and visible. We touch and hear your eternal life. We feel you coursing our souls, moving us to hope and to love, to give and to be given to you and all you love.
I know the life you are in words preached and spoken, in sacraments of meager bread filling up empty hands and my heart with a joy and love uncrushed even by busiest days and bouts of melancholy. I know you in faces appearing at my door no matter how banal or common their need or request. In them I see your desire to enter this world deeply and without reservation, to bathe yourself in its pathos and struggle to live and to laugh. It is a desire beyond their own, and I wonder if they know they Wonder they bear.
The eternal life you are rushes through my veins and arteries filling me with your divine longing to give this love that bubbles from source unsearchable in the darkness of my depths. You awaken desires to bathe in and become this love in which I know myself more fully alive than I am anywhere else.
Tell me, is this fellowship with you? If so, I want nothing else. So give me, give us this day such fellowship with you. Release in us the energy of eternity that the environments of our lives may fill with you, the bubbling fountain eternal life and joy. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Monday, February 05, 2007
Monday, February 5, 2007
Today’s reading
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the world of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was reveed to us” (1 John 1:1-2).
Prayer
Who are you, my beloved? I know the writer’s desire to speak, to testify, saying, “This much I know is true.” But your desire moves me far more than my own.
Who are you? You are the One who longs to be known in the eternal life you give and are. You want to be known, but not for your greatness or glorious splendor beyond all light, nor for the dazzling wonder that reduces my futile imagination to worthless rubble each time I try to grasp you. No, you would be known for your kindness, not for your vastness, for your nearness, not your inscrutable eternity.
You would be known as near kindness, present eternity, touchable wonder, tangible source of the eternal hope coursing through our souls, awakening us from the little death of sleep that we might enter a new time and do it all again.
You want me to know you. Such is your desire. The thought alone brings tears. It stops every thought of which my mind is capable. You want me … to know you, to touch you, to love you, to give my life to you who are Life itself. Your joy and chief desire in relation to me and all creation is to be known as eternal life, now, in the face of the Word made flesh, in my own flesh—and in the frail flesh of all whom I will see and touch this day.
I cannot penetrate the wonder of it. You who are eternal want to be known, touched and carried by these frail hands that even now stumble across the keys seeking those that will honor you, my dearest Friend and highest Hope. You, who are life, want me, who bears the seeds of my death, to see and hold and have fellowship with you who are light eternal.
I know you in your desire. And this much I know is true: You are the kindest of all generosities. You are the Nameless Wonder who is before all. You are Source of all life and love who longs to give the fullness of your eternity to me for the fulfillment of my mortal flesh. It is your joy to give and see this joy alight in our eyes.
This day may we touch and see you are in the places you are pleased to be known that we may live. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
1 John 1:1-4
“We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands concerning the world of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was reveed to us” (1 John 1:1-2).
Prayer
Who are you, my beloved? I know the writer’s desire to speak, to testify, saying, “This much I know is true.” But your desire moves me far more than my own.
Who are you? You are the One who longs to be known in the eternal life you give and are. You want to be known, but not for your greatness or glorious splendor beyond all light, nor for the dazzling wonder that reduces my futile imagination to worthless rubble each time I try to grasp you. No, you would be known for your kindness, not for your vastness, for your nearness, not your inscrutable eternity.
You would be known as near kindness, present eternity, touchable wonder, tangible source of the eternal hope coursing through our souls, awakening us from the little death of sleep that we might enter a new time and do it all again.
You want me to know you. Such is your desire. The thought alone brings tears. It stops every thought of which my mind is capable. You want me … to know you, to touch you, to love you, to give my life to you who are Life itself. Your joy and chief desire in relation to me and all creation is to be known as eternal life, now, in the face of the Word made flesh, in my own flesh—and in the frail flesh of all whom I will see and touch this day.
I cannot penetrate the wonder of it. You who are eternal want to be known, touched and carried by these frail hands that even now stumble across the keys seeking those that will honor you, my dearest Friend and highest Hope. You, who are life, want me, who bears the seeds of my death, to see and hold and have fellowship with you who are light eternal.
I know you in your desire. And this much I know is true: You are the kindest of all generosities. You are the Nameless Wonder who is before all. You are Source of all life and love who longs to give the fullness of your eternity to me for the fulfillment of my mortal flesh. It is your joy to give and see this joy alight in our eyes.
This day may we touch and see you are in the places you are pleased to be known that we may live. Amen.
--Pastor David L. Miller
Monday, December 25, 2006
Monday, December 25, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:21-23
“Greet every saint in Christ Jesus. The friends who are with me greet you. All the saints greet you, especially those of the emperor's household. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit” (Phil. 4:21-23).
Prayer
O Great Mystery, we shall greet one another with warmest embrace and tears for you have greeted us in the depth of our flesh. In waiting rooms and by baggage carrels, by phones and at the front window, we shall await our heart’s desire until they appear. Then again, we shall know the joyous rush of greeting and holding those you have given us to love.
And you shall be in every embrace and all tears. For you have greeted this tired Earth with the freshness of divine embrace, holding all its contradictions in the tender flesh of your appearance.
In the flesh of my Lord Jesus, You take into intimate embrace all that is and all we are in the warmth of a divine greeting to which no one and nothing is foreign. The wonder of your fleshly embrace of our flesh and fearful finitude opens our souls. Our hearts fly open so that all that is in us flows out to you and into you. All we are, our confusion and sin, our contradictions and failures, our ideals and hopes, all of it finds warmest greeting every morning, and most certainly on Christmas morning.
So we shall greet our beloved with warmest affection and know that our arms too, having been taken into the wonder of your Incarnation, are your divine embrace warming the coldness of earth. And we shall know that the arms that receive us are your own. Amen.
(Praying the Mystery will be taking a break, having now prayed through Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. It will appear again in late January and will focus on the small New Testament letter of 1 John. My warmest greetings to you who have read and prayed with me. Thank you for your notes of appreciation and encouragement. I treasure you partnership in the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.)
Philippians 4:21-23
“Greet every saint in Christ Jesus. The friends who are with me greet you. All the saints greet you, especially those of the emperor's household. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit” (Phil. 4:21-23).
Prayer
O Great Mystery, we shall greet one another with warmest embrace and tears for you have greeted us in the depth of our flesh. In waiting rooms and by baggage carrels, by phones and at the front window, we shall await our heart’s desire until they appear. Then again, we shall know the joyous rush of greeting and holding those you have given us to love.
And you shall be in every embrace and all tears. For you have greeted this tired Earth with the freshness of divine embrace, holding all its contradictions in the tender flesh of your appearance.
In the flesh of my Lord Jesus, You take into intimate embrace all that is and all we are in the warmth of a divine greeting to which no one and nothing is foreign. The wonder of your fleshly embrace of our flesh and fearful finitude opens our souls. Our hearts fly open so that all that is in us flows out to you and into you. All we are, our confusion and sin, our contradictions and failures, our ideals and hopes, all of it finds warmest greeting every morning, and most certainly on Christmas morning.
So we shall greet our beloved with warmest affection and know that our arms too, having been taken into the wonder of your Incarnation, are your divine embrace warming the coldness of earth. And we shall know that the arms that receive us are your own. Amen.
(Praying the Mystery will be taking a break, having now prayed through Paul’s Letter to the Philippians. It will appear again in late January and will focus on the small New Testament letter of 1 John. My warmest greetings to you who have read and prayed with me. Thank you for your notes of appreciation and encouragement. I treasure you partnership in the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.)
Friday, December 22, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:15-20
“I have been paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God. And my God will fully satisfy every need of your according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory forever and ever. Amen” (Phil. 4:18-20).
Prayer
Why does our giving please you, Holy Mystery? Why is it that I know your eternal smile, your gentle joy, in every kindness and generosity of soul that I see?
Could it be that all true giving is carried by the great river of life that has poured from your heart since time began? Can it be that our joy in bringing joy to another heart is not our joy but yours? Is it possible that the fullness of generosity that bursts the seams of our souls is the Fullness of your divine heart? And is this Fullness the highest ecstasy human flesh may know?
I believe so. I believe we are in you, most intimately knowing and enjoying you, when you fill us that we transcend the narrow circle of self truly to love, to give, to share our life. Lifted beyond ourselves we, finally, become ourselves, full and complete, knowing the utter incomprehensibility of You who are Boundless Love. And our flesh, too, shines with the glory of your life, a fragrant offering that pleases you.
You privilege us to please you. For our giving, all giving, shares in the dancing love that courses mysteriously in your inner, divine life. It pours from you into this and every cosmos to give life and abundance to all you love, and you love all.
So take us into the holy joy of your great generosity. For we come again to Christmas. Stir our hearts to celebrate the appearance of your eternal kindness, shining in the face of Jesus. This day and most certainly Christmas Day, may we, too, shine with the glory of your life. Amen.
Philippians 4:15-20
“I have been paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God. And my God will fully satisfy every need of your according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory forever and ever. Amen” (Phil. 4:18-20).
Prayer
Why does our giving please you, Holy Mystery? Why is it that I know your eternal smile, your gentle joy, in every kindness and generosity of soul that I see?
Could it be that all true giving is carried by the great river of life that has poured from your heart since time began? Can it be that our joy in bringing joy to another heart is not our joy but yours? Is it possible that the fullness of generosity that bursts the seams of our souls is the Fullness of your divine heart? And is this Fullness the highest ecstasy human flesh may know?
I believe so. I believe we are in you, most intimately knowing and enjoying you, when you fill us that we transcend the narrow circle of self truly to love, to give, to share our life. Lifted beyond ourselves we, finally, become ourselves, full and complete, knowing the utter incomprehensibility of You who are Boundless Love. And our flesh, too, shines with the glory of your life, a fragrant offering that pleases you.
You privilege us to please you. For our giving, all giving, shares in the dancing love that courses mysteriously in your inner, divine life. It pours from you into this and every cosmos to give life and abundance to all you love, and you love all.
So take us into the holy joy of your great generosity. For we come again to Christmas. Stir our hearts to celebrate the appearance of your eternal kindness, shining in the face of Jesus. This day and most certainly Christmas Day, may we, too, shine with the glory of your life. Amen.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:15-20
“You Philippians indeed know that in the early days of the gospel, when I left Macedonia, no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you alone. ... I have been paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have received ... the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God. And my God will fully satisfy every need of your according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory forever and ever. Amen” (Phil. 4:15-16, 18-20).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. You are the fragrant offering we receive in every true act of giving. You. Open our hearts to receive you in every generosity. And move our souls to participate in that great cycle of giving and receiving that is the presence of your life among us.
You are the great giving of God. In you the Holy One shares the treasure of divine life. Here we meet the purity of love given in a joy beyond our capacity to comprehend.
So come, Lord Jesus. Let us look upon your beauty and receive the love you are, the Love of whom you are the face. We yearn to enter the mystery of a love beyond all measure. We crave Christmas for we long to be filled with the Fullness of God who is love. So fill us with your Fullness that our tears of joy may give you proper praise. Draw us into your great generosity that we, in our receiving and giving, may participate in the incarnation of your divine life in the places of our habitation.
Every real gift, every act of giving, cries out your name and bears the truth of your divine life. Every act of sharing and love glorifies you, enlarging the wonder of your presence among us, making earth itself and our withered hearts fragrant with your beauty.
So come Lord Jesus. Give us the eyes to see you in every generosity. Give us your heart that we might share in the unspeakable giving of the Unspeakable Giver, who is Love beyond all measure. Amen.
Philippians 4:15-20
“You Philippians indeed know that in the early days of the gospel, when I left Macedonia, no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you alone. ... I have been paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have received ... the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God. And my God will fully satisfy every need of your according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory forever and ever. Amen” (Phil. 4:15-16, 18-20).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. You are the fragrant offering we receive in every true act of giving. You. Open our hearts to receive you in every generosity. And move our souls to participate in that great cycle of giving and receiving that is the presence of your life among us.
You are the great giving of God. In you the Holy One shares the treasure of divine life. Here we meet the purity of love given in a joy beyond our capacity to comprehend.
So come, Lord Jesus. Let us look upon your beauty and receive the love you are, the Love of whom you are the face. We yearn to enter the mystery of a love beyond all measure. We crave Christmas for we long to be filled with the Fullness of God who is love. So fill us with your Fullness that our tears of joy may give you proper praise. Draw us into your great generosity that we, in our receiving and giving, may participate in the incarnation of your divine life in the places of our habitation.
Every real gift, every act of giving, cries out your name and bears the truth of your divine life. Every act of sharing and love glorifies you, enlarging the wonder of your presence among us, making earth itself and our withered hearts fragrant with your beauty.
So come Lord Jesus. Give us the eyes to see you in every generosity. Give us your heart that we might share in the unspeakable giving of the Unspeakable Giver, who is Love beyond all measure. Amen.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:10-13
“I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. In any case, it was kind of you to share my distress” (Phil. 4:11b-13).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Teach us your secret. You come to us as an ordinary infant. But you bear in your flesh a unity with divine wonder that is the secret of contentment of joy. You walked this earth gently. You did not need to prove anything, to win great victories or even the approval of others. You knew from the start that true life exists not in pride of possession or personal power. Life resides in the enduring unity, the habitual holy communion you shared in hidden depths of soul with the One who is eternal and who is all love.
You knew this Holy and Unspeakable Mystery not by intellectual grasping but by abiding. Moment to moment, soul-to-soul, you dwelt in undivided union in a love I cannot imagine, yet which I know with certainty in darkest intuition.
My senses collapse in frustrated failure trying to penetrate the dazzling darkness that surrounds this One who is love. But, Lord Jesus, you knew this One always with absolute certitude, dwelling in hidden depths of intimate communion so that there was no separation between you. This is your secret, Lord Jesus. You were and are eternally one with the One. I look into your face and know that I gaze into the depths of Eternal Wonder.
Can I enjoy such communion, my soul abiding, resting, dwelling in blessed communion with the One Love in whom you constantly dwelt? Sometimes I dwell in that space, experiencing the contentment, the joy, the peace you give your friends. Only Lord Jesus, I would know this communion not intermittently but as enduring presence.
So come Lord Jesus. Draw near this soul of mine again. Let me rest in the love I find in you that I may learn the secret you alone can share. Amen.
Philippians 4:10-13
“I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. In any case, it was kind of you to share my distress” (Phil. 4:11b-13).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Teach us your secret. You come to us as an ordinary infant. But you bear in your flesh a unity with divine wonder that is the secret of contentment of joy. You walked this earth gently. You did not need to prove anything, to win great victories or even the approval of others. You knew from the start that true life exists not in pride of possession or personal power. Life resides in the enduring unity, the habitual holy communion you shared in hidden depths of soul with the One who is eternal and who is all love.
You knew this Holy and Unspeakable Mystery not by intellectual grasping but by abiding. Moment to moment, soul-to-soul, you dwelt in undivided union in a love I cannot imagine, yet which I know with certainty in darkest intuition.
My senses collapse in frustrated failure trying to penetrate the dazzling darkness that surrounds this One who is love. But, Lord Jesus, you knew this One always with absolute certitude, dwelling in hidden depths of intimate communion so that there was no separation between you. This is your secret, Lord Jesus. You were and are eternally one with the One. I look into your face and know that I gaze into the depths of Eternal Wonder.
Can I enjoy such communion, my soul abiding, resting, dwelling in blessed communion with the One Love in whom you constantly dwelt? Sometimes I dwell in that space, experiencing the contentment, the joy, the peace you give your friends. Only Lord Jesus, I would know this communion not intermittently but as enduring presence.
So come Lord Jesus. Draw near this soul of mine again. Let me rest in the love I find in you that I may learn the secret you alone can share. Amen.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:8-9
“Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil. 4:8-9).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Peace escapes us. It lies in a land beyond our grasp. But perhaps that is our problem. We grasp and seek to hold for our own what can only be received with an open hand and a humble heart--and shared the same way, lest it be lost.
So young we learn life is about grasping what we want. Lines between “mine and not mine” quickly appear. Life is soon defined by enlarging what is mine, and competing with those who might take what I need to expand my importance, command and kingdom. It’s a movement of body and soul that stretches from the playpen to the world’s bloodiest streets.
And it kills us, Dear Friend. It separates our souls from the hearts of those we most need. It teaches us to fear. It erodes trust. It turns creation into a thing to be possessed, and human beings made in your image into mere objects of our manipulation.
Come Lord Jesus. Teach us the way of peace. Our hearts long for what you alone can give. You point us to all that is beautiful of Earth, all that is pure, all that is right and just, that pleases soul and mind, all that is worthy of praise and appreciation. You come and reveal the wonder of Eternity in your human face and hands, wide open in blessing.
And I know: All is gift, not to be possessed but received and savored as the outpouring of an eternal generosity that I cannot begin to comprehend, except with a heart of overwhelmed gratitude.
Peace begins in your boundless, divine generosity, O Loving Mystery. You take pleasure in giving the fullness of your life and beauty. May I see and savor all that is your joy to give that gratitude may teach me the way of peace. In the advent of your great self-giving, may your peace guard my heart and mind. Amen.
Philippians 4:8-9
“Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil. 4:8-9).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Peace escapes us. It lies in a land beyond our grasp. But perhaps that is our problem. We grasp and seek to hold for our own what can only be received with an open hand and a humble heart--and shared the same way, lest it be lost.
So young we learn life is about grasping what we want. Lines between “mine and not mine” quickly appear. Life is soon defined by enlarging what is mine, and competing with those who might take what I need to expand my importance, command and kingdom. It’s a movement of body and soul that stretches from the playpen to the world’s bloodiest streets.
And it kills us, Dear Friend. It separates our souls from the hearts of those we most need. It teaches us to fear. It erodes trust. It turns creation into a thing to be possessed, and human beings made in your image into mere objects of our manipulation.
Come Lord Jesus. Teach us the way of peace. Our hearts long for what you alone can give. You point us to all that is beautiful of Earth, all that is pure, all that is right and just, that pleases soul and mind, all that is worthy of praise and appreciation. You come and reveal the wonder of Eternity in your human face and hands, wide open in blessing.
And I know: All is gift, not to be possessed but received and savored as the outpouring of an eternal generosity that I cannot begin to comprehend, except with a heart of overwhelmed gratitude.
Peace begins in your boundless, divine generosity, O Loving Mystery. You take pleasure in giving the fullness of your life and beauty. May I see and savor all that is your joy to give that gratitude may teach me the way of peace. In the advent of your great self-giving, may your peace guard my heart and mind. Amen.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:8-9
“Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing he things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil. 4:8-9).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Ah, but you always come. And you are always near, abiding even in the unsuspecting who reveal your beauty unawares. From across a room, I watch a mother raise a tiny new born to her lips, a little girl, I suppose, for all the pink. She kisses one tender cheek then lays the little one’s head over her heart. The fragile infant rests there soothed by the first sound she ever heard, the rhythm of a human heart pumping the warm blood of life into her, a parable bearing the truth of the universe.
The mother’s gesture was a totally unconscious. It was not done for display or consumption. No one was standing with them. No one was watching but me, anonymously, from far off. But I was close enough to witness the purity of a love given in joy. The pair shimmered with gentleness and peace, a holy family alive with the life of you whom I can only name Love Abiding.
I savored what I saw, Dearest Friend. For there you were again, in human flesh, revealing the heart not only of one woman but of Eternity. I savored the scene for it made me more alive than I had been but moment before, more aware, more peaceful, more gentle, and utterly certain that the world is shot through with your holy presence, convinced that the love you are is everywhere.
Wherever there is beauty and purity, justice and peace, gentleness and mercy, truth and honorable life, you are there. And there we rest our heads on the heart of the cosmos to hear the rhythm of Eternity, pumping the warm blood of life into our souls. Thanks be to God. So come, Lord Jesus. We want to live. Amen.
Philippians 4:8-9
“Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing he things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you” (Phil. 4:8-9).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Ah, but you always come. And you are always near, abiding even in the unsuspecting who reveal your beauty unawares. From across a room, I watch a mother raise a tiny new born to her lips, a little girl, I suppose, for all the pink. She kisses one tender cheek then lays the little one’s head over her heart. The fragile infant rests there soothed by the first sound she ever heard, the rhythm of a human heart pumping the warm blood of life into her, a parable bearing the truth of the universe.
The mother’s gesture was a totally unconscious. It was not done for display or consumption. No one was standing with them. No one was watching but me, anonymously, from far off. But I was close enough to witness the purity of a love given in joy. The pair shimmered with gentleness and peace, a holy family alive with the life of you whom I can only name Love Abiding.
I savored what I saw, Dearest Friend. For there you were again, in human flesh, revealing the heart not only of one woman but of Eternity. I savored the scene for it made me more alive than I had been but moment before, more aware, more peaceful, more gentle, and utterly certain that the world is shot through with your holy presence, convinced that the love you are is everywhere.
Wherever there is beauty and purity, justice and peace, gentleness and mercy, truth and honorable life, you are there. And there we rest our heads on the heart of the cosmos to hear the rhythm of Eternity, pumping the warm blood of life into our souls. Thanks be to God. So come, Lord Jesus. We want to live. Amen.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Draw near that we may speak heart to heart. But this does not describe the intimacy we know in these morning moments. For when I speak to you it is you who speak in me to the Holy Greatness who is beyond me. Your Spirit abides, speaking in the depth of this human heart to you who are ever beyond me. There is no space between us, no here and there, no separation, but two hearts holding intimate exchange in one mortality.
You are the Near Abiding and Infinitely Transcendent, the Far Near One, whose immense divine heart thirsts to abide in and with me. Your divine desire is that I may know you even as I am known, possessing such knowledge as only love may have.
No wonder you insist that we pour out prayer and supplication to you, making our hearts known to you. Certainly, you already know the quagmire of our soul’s confliction. But in prayer we give voice to you who hungers to pray us, to pray in us, to pray us into intimacy with an infinite love we have no other way of entering.
You demand our prayers that we may abide in each other. You insist because you hunger to know us, to dwell intimately, heart to heart, your immensity communing in and with my smallness. My desire to know you and nothing but you is nothing more--or less--than your Spirit taking residence in this soul. Your Spirit within my own moves to complete that blessed communion which is your desire for me.
So Lord Jesus, you who always come, I will come to you. I will pour out my prayers and requests, knowing all the while that it is you who speaks in me, praying me into the dearest desire of your heart, and mine. Amen.
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Draw near that we may speak heart to heart. But this does not describe the intimacy we know in these morning moments. For when I speak to you it is you who speak in me to the Holy Greatness who is beyond me. Your Spirit abides, speaking in the depth of this human heart to you who are ever beyond me. There is no space between us, no here and there, no separation, but two hearts holding intimate exchange in one mortality.
You are the Near Abiding and Infinitely Transcendent, the Far Near One, whose immense divine heart thirsts to abide in and with me. Your divine desire is that I may know you even as I am known, possessing such knowledge as only love may have.
No wonder you insist that we pour out prayer and supplication to you, making our hearts known to you. Certainly, you already know the quagmire of our soul’s confliction. But in prayer we give voice to you who hungers to pray us, to pray in us, to pray us into intimacy with an infinite love we have no other way of entering.
You demand our prayers that we may abide in each other. You insist because you hunger to know us, to dwell intimately, heart to heart, your immensity communing in and with my smallness. My desire to know you and nothing but you is nothing more--or less--than your Spirit taking residence in this soul. Your Spirit within my own moves to complete that blessed communion which is your desire for me.
So Lord Jesus, you who always come, I will come to you. I will pour out my prayers and requests, knowing all the while that it is you who speaks in me, praying me into the dearest desire of your heart, and mine. Amen.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. I am here again, and you are here always. In prayer I enter the presence of you who are Presence beyond my ability to grasp or comprehend. I cannot understand you. But as certainly as the feel of my fingers on the keys, I know you are and that you are here. And I rest, sinking into a love that has known and treasured me since before the birth of time.
I read the words again, unable in these Advent days to move beyond them. Rejoice, ... do not worry, ... let your gentleness be known, ... peace will guard your heart and mind. They transport me into another world more lovely and gracious than I can bear. Insatiable longing fills me. I want to live in that world and only there.
Amid tears I did not choose, you take me into what I most need--you. You encircle me in your embrace where without word or concept I know the Love, the Mystery, the Unspeakable Wonder from whom all flows like a river from eternity into time. This offers no knowledge for which I have words. I simply know you who are Love, and life finds completion for I know you.
Jesus, you come, inviting me to savor the contours of your face and know that the compassion I find there is the compassion in which I was, am and will always be held. I dwell in the climate of divine compassion. Constant and inescapable. Such knowledge moves me to rejoice beyond worry, letting peace wash over me and gentleness through me so that my life becomes revelation of another world where all you desire is complete and your love is all in all.
We hunger for that world. So come, Lord Jesus. Take us into your heart that we might taste our eternal tomorrow. Amen.
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. I am here again, and you are here always. In prayer I enter the presence of you who are Presence beyond my ability to grasp or comprehend. I cannot understand you. But as certainly as the feel of my fingers on the keys, I know you are and that you are here. And I rest, sinking into a love that has known and treasured me since before the birth of time.
I read the words again, unable in these Advent days to move beyond them. Rejoice, ... do not worry, ... let your gentleness be known, ... peace will guard your heart and mind. They transport me into another world more lovely and gracious than I can bear. Insatiable longing fills me. I want to live in that world and only there.
Amid tears I did not choose, you take me into what I most need--you. You encircle me in your embrace where without word or concept I know the Love, the Mystery, the Unspeakable Wonder from whom all flows like a river from eternity into time. This offers no knowledge for which I have words. I simply know you who are Love, and life finds completion for I know you.
Jesus, you come, inviting me to savor the contours of your face and know that the compassion I find there is the compassion in which I was, am and will always be held. I dwell in the climate of divine compassion. Constant and inescapable. Such knowledge moves me to rejoice beyond worry, letting peace wash over me and gentleness through me so that my life becomes revelation of another world where all you desire is complete and your love is all in all.
We hunger for that world. So come, Lord Jesus. Take us into your heart that we might taste our eternal tomorrow. Amen.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Free our hearts and loose our minds from besetting worries that with full and pure hearts we may prepare to celebrate the feast of your coming among us. We are born to worry as smoke rises. We are finite and mortal. From earliest infancy, there is never a moment when our souls can forget this most fundamental fact. We weep for food, for warmth, for comfort, for protection that already we know we cannot provide for ourselves.
We are fragile creatures. We climb high and travel far in promethean efforts to deny the truth of our frame. But even our greatest triumphs cannot drown out the inner whisper, “You are mortal. You are never enough. You need. You can never secure your life against all you fear. Your existence is ever dependent upon powers that you cannot begin to understand or control.”
From anxieties native to our nature we fly into your arms, O Immeasurable Mercy. For you are life beyond dying. You are Loving Presence when all loves fail. You are hope beyond all human provision. You are joy in the darkest nights of our journey. You are Eternal Gentleness and Infinite Nearness when our vigils are lonely and the days are harsh.
You are Love beyond all knowing and speaking. And you are mine. Is there anything else I really need to know?
So come, Lord Jesus. Show us again that we are yours. This alone frees us from our fears that with full and and grateful hearts we may praise you who came, who will come, and who is Love Abiding. Amen.
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Free our hearts and loose our minds from besetting worries that with full and pure hearts we may prepare to celebrate the feast of your coming among us. We are born to worry as smoke rises. We are finite and mortal. From earliest infancy, there is never a moment when our souls can forget this most fundamental fact. We weep for food, for warmth, for comfort, for protection that already we know we cannot provide for ourselves.
We are fragile creatures. We climb high and travel far in promethean efforts to deny the truth of our frame. But even our greatest triumphs cannot drown out the inner whisper, “You are mortal. You are never enough. You need. You can never secure your life against all you fear. Your existence is ever dependent upon powers that you cannot begin to understand or control.”
From anxieties native to our nature we fly into your arms, O Immeasurable Mercy. For you are life beyond dying. You are Loving Presence when all loves fail. You are hope beyond all human provision. You are joy in the darkest nights of our journey. You are Eternal Gentleness and Infinite Nearness when our vigils are lonely and the days are harsh.
You are Love beyond all knowing and speaking. And you are mine. Is there anything else I really need to know?
So come, Lord Jesus. Show us again that we are yours. This alone frees us from our fears that with full and and grateful hearts we may praise you who came, who will come, and who is Love Abiding. Amen.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Let your peace guard my heart and mind. They stand in constant need of guarding, and you are the Prince of Peace. You are my peace. Apart from you, my heart knows no calm or assurance. You are ever near. But peace eludes me when I do not know myself encompassed in your all-embracing care. So allow me again pray myself into awareness of your abiding here in this silent cell where I pour out my heart to you, letting my vulnerability be the royal road into your divine heart.
I am in you at all times. Baptized, you enclose me into the circle of blessing that is your inner life, O Blessed Trinity. But I would know myself in you at all times. Then peace pours forth from your heart into mine, and I grow calm and gentle, peaceful and peace giving.
I do not dwell in this holy blessing at all times. But often I have tasted it, and I crave it like my next breath. My heart and mind are ruled too much by my fears. Anxieties about my life, my skills, my knowledge, my awkward ways and desire for others respect, these stir me from silence to speak too much at inopportune times, bumbling and stumbling over poorly formed thoughts, wondering if I am as much a fool as I feel.
Put a guard on my heart, and a seal on my lips, O Peace of Eternity. You are my peace. Guard my heart behind high walls of your constant watchfulness. Then I will know my being, entire and full, within the protective arms of your loving and eternal embrace. Hidden there in your love, inner silence crowds out the anxious voices. Peace fills and spills from me, a living stream of your holy life, pouring from me into your world to bless those lives you have place near to befriend and care.
Come Lord Jesus. Let us know ourselves in you that peace may guard our every word and act, our thought and ways. This day may we live beyond our fears in your blessed peace. Amen.
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Let your peace guard my heart and mind. They stand in constant need of guarding, and you are the Prince of Peace. You are my peace. Apart from you, my heart knows no calm or assurance. You are ever near. But peace eludes me when I do not know myself encompassed in your all-embracing care. So allow me again pray myself into awareness of your abiding here in this silent cell where I pour out my heart to you, letting my vulnerability be the royal road into your divine heart.
I am in you at all times. Baptized, you enclose me into the circle of blessing that is your inner life, O Blessed Trinity. But I would know myself in you at all times. Then peace pours forth from your heart into mine, and I grow calm and gentle, peaceful and peace giving.
I do not dwell in this holy blessing at all times. But often I have tasted it, and I crave it like my next breath. My heart and mind are ruled too much by my fears. Anxieties about my life, my skills, my knowledge, my awkward ways and desire for others respect, these stir me from silence to speak too much at inopportune times, bumbling and stumbling over poorly formed thoughts, wondering if I am as much a fool as I feel.
Put a guard on my heart, and a seal on my lips, O Peace of Eternity. You are my peace. Guard my heart behind high walls of your constant watchfulness. Then I will know my being, entire and full, within the protective arms of your loving and eternal embrace. Hidden there in your love, inner silence crowds out the anxious voices. Peace fills and spills from me, a living stream of your holy life, pouring from me into your world to bless those lives you have place near to befriend and care.
Come Lord Jesus. Let us know ourselves in you that peace may guard our every word and act, our thought and ways. This day may we live beyond our fears in your blessed peace. Amen.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Tell me, my Truest Joy, are the gentle joyful, or are the joyful gentle? Which is first and cause and which the affect? Or do both gentleness and joy find their source elsewhere? I ask because I desire both, and both too often escape me. Amid demands of the day, my heart grows quick and hard, my voice takes an edge and my inner space rattles with defensive chatter born of fear.
I know the difference in my soul when I am joyful. My heart grows expansive and generous. I embrace more of your world and of my own soul, receiving and holding near even the ugly and painful parts from which I normally recoil. Joy fills me, and gentleness becomes my desire.
It happens the other way too. There are days when the fragile beauty of every soul and all creation softens my voice and gentles my hand. I grow quiet and tender, seeking to bless every life you place in my care. Such gentle giving stings my eyes with tears of joy-filled gratitude, for I know then that I am part of your great giving of life to all you love.
Gentleness and joy appear together, natural siblings in my soul. Mutual apostles they are; one leads quickly to the other. And neither appears in my heart apart from you, Truest Joy. They appear where I know you. When I know your nearness, they appear. And when they appear, I know you are near. So I know, dearest One, a joyful and gentle heart is the miracle of a love that is not my own, but yours. Your love, the gracious heart of infinity, fills and spills from my heart as a reservoir overfilled, watering the land, issuing forth a living stream of gentle joy.
So come, Lord Jesus. Bring gentleness and joy to our lives and limbs. Our world is dying for both. Our souls shrivel in darkest winter cold unless you fire our hearts with the presence of your love. May we know you today. Amen.
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Tell me, my Truest Joy, are the gentle joyful, or are the joyful gentle? Which is first and cause and which the affect? Or do both gentleness and joy find their source elsewhere? I ask because I desire both, and both too often escape me. Amid demands of the day, my heart grows quick and hard, my voice takes an edge and my inner space rattles with defensive chatter born of fear.
I know the difference in my soul when I am joyful. My heart grows expansive and generous. I embrace more of your world and of my own soul, receiving and holding near even the ugly and painful parts from which I normally recoil. Joy fills me, and gentleness becomes my desire.
It happens the other way too. There are days when the fragile beauty of every soul and all creation softens my voice and gentles my hand. I grow quiet and tender, seeking to bless every life you place in my care. Such gentle giving stings my eyes with tears of joy-filled gratitude, for I know then that I am part of your great giving of life to all you love.
Gentleness and joy appear together, natural siblings in my soul. Mutual apostles they are; one leads quickly to the other. And neither appears in my heart apart from you, Truest Joy. They appear where I know you. When I know your nearness, they appear. And when they appear, I know you are near. So I know, dearest One, a joyful and gentle heart is the miracle of a love that is not my own, but yours. Your love, the gracious heart of infinity, fills and spills from my heart as a reservoir overfilled, watering the land, issuing forth a living stream of gentle joy.
So come, Lord Jesus. Bring gentleness and joy to our lives and limbs. Our world is dying for both. Our souls shrivel in darkest winter cold unless you fire our hearts with the presence of your love. May we know you today. Amen.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Teach our hearts that we belong to your new age. Convince our souls that we are citizens of a land alien to the one we typically inhabit. We live what we see. The challenges of our days loom large. We see threats to our ability to succeed, to be accepted, to master that corner of the world we need to control to feel safe. And fear immediately follows, shadowing our hearts, sucking our souls dry until they are mere husks, empty of the abundant joy and vitality that is your desire for all you love.
Come, Lord Jesus. Draw us beyond the illusion of our fears into the world of your grace. Lift us from dread and exhaustion into joy and tears. Our being springs from the Ground of Love you are. We are alive with you. Apart from that love we do not exist. You, Abiding Love, surround and envelop us and all life. We dwell in the atmosphere of Holy Presence. You are near.
Fear evaporates like so much morning mist when our souls release their fearful grip and live into into this awareness. Joy fills our frame, and the beauty you have loved into us is released, sparkling in hope-filled faces alive with anticipation. Even in my face. Thank you.
As we await the fullness of your coming to fill all things, I ask again. Come, Lord Jesus, fill us with the awareness of your nearness that we may live in the presence of Everlasting Love, drawing you in with our every breath. Then, truly, we shall live, with joy, beyond our fearful illusions. Amen.
Philippians 4:4:1-7
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God that passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:4-7).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Teach our hearts that we belong to your new age. Convince our souls that we are citizens of a land alien to the one we typically inhabit. We live what we see. The challenges of our days loom large. We see threats to our ability to succeed, to be accepted, to master that corner of the world we need to control to feel safe. And fear immediately follows, shadowing our hearts, sucking our souls dry until they are mere husks, empty of the abundant joy and vitality that is your desire for all you love.
Come, Lord Jesus. Draw us beyond the illusion of our fears into the world of your grace. Lift us from dread and exhaustion into joy and tears. Our being springs from the Ground of Love you are. We are alive with you. Apart from that love we do not exist. You, Abiding Love, surround and envelop us and all life. We dwell in the atmosphere of Holy Presence. You are near.
Fear evaporates like so much morning mist when our souls release their fearful grip and live into into this awareness. Joy fills our frame, and the beauty you have loved into us is released, sparkling in hope-filled faces alive with anticipation. Even in my face. Thank you.
As we await the fullness of your coming to fill all things, I ask again. Come, Lord Jesus, fill us with the awareness of your nearness that we may live in the presence of Everlasting Love, drawing you in with our every breath. Then, truly, we shall live, with joy, beyond our fearful illusions. Amen.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:20-21
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil. 3:20-21).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus transform our bodies. Conform us to your glory. Your glory is clear. You lived transparent to the Loving Mystery you called “Abba, Father,” the infinite source all creation, the fountain of all being, the Living Spring of Love. All you did and are--every act of healing and care, every word of teaching or argument with those who opposed you--conformed in detail to the desire of the Everlasting Love who has haunted us all our days. From your call to enter to your kingdom to your acceptance of your torturous death, you are the face of the Infinite Wonder no eye has seen.
But we have seen you, and seeing you we behold the Loving Mystery who desires to shape our lives and bodies into the image of your eternal beauty. It takes my breath away and scares me. For you reveal a love I don’t and can’t grasp. Your love grasps me and doesn’t let go. It is hungry, discontent and unresting until it fills every empty space where it is not, every corner of every soul that still turns away, clogged by its own fears and preoccupations. You will have all of us, and all of us will be the love you are. But I wonder: What little will be left of my self-absorbed, fear-disfigured life when I, finally, am subject to the love you are?
Still I pray. I must pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” I know that you do. I look about and see the glory of your hungry, restless love in the lives of your beloved, sometimes even in my own body. Continue to fill us with the divine desire from which your every word flowed like a living spring. Conform our bodies to your own that we might known and shine with the Everlasting Love with whom we cannot live without.
Come, Lord Jesus, our hearts are hungry for you. Amen.
Philippians 3:20-21
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil. 3:20-21).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus transform our bodies. Conform us to your glory. Your glory is clear. You lived transparent to the Loving Mystery you called “Abba, Father,” the infinite source all creation, the fountain of all being, the Living Spring of Love. All you did and are--every act of healing and care, every word of teaching or argument with those who opposed you--conformed in detail to the desire of the Everlasting Love who has haunted us all our days. From your call to enter to your kingdom to your acceptance of your torturous death, you are the face of the Infinite Wonder no eye has seen.
But we have seen you, and seeing you we behold the Loving Mystery who desires to shape our lives and bodies into the image of your eternal beauty. It takes my breath away and scares me. For you reveal a love I don’t and can’t grasp. Your love grasps me and doesn’t let go. It is hungry, discontent and unresting until it fills every empty space where it is not, every corner of every soul that still turns away, clogged by its own fears and preoccupations. You will have all of us, and all of us will be the love you are. But I wonder: What little will be left of my self-absorbed, fear-disfigured life when I, finally, am subject to the love you are?
Still I pray. I must pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” I know that you do. I look about and see the glory of your hungry, restless love in the lives of your beloved, sometimes even in my own body. Continue to fill us with the divine desire from which your every word flowed like a living spring. Conform our bodies to your own that we might known and shine with the Everlasting Love with whom we cannot live without.
Come, Lord Jesus, our hearts are hungry for you. Amen.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:20-21
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil. 3:20-21).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Advent comes again, stirring our longing for a beauty and grace not fully born. Our music assumes a minor key melancholy, the best of it written in the key of yearning. Darkness descends. Earth cools. Snow lately shimmering bright as life now lies a leaden sludge in the gutters. We scurry from door to door before bitter chill chafes our cheeks raw. From task half done, we dash to the next, racing to finish that last paper, prepare for that test, to get this paper off our desks before the holy days, for the most part forgetting that all days are holy.
Come, Lord Jesus. The world is too much with us: death haunts Darfur, murder stalks Baghdad, the way of peace escapes the wisdom of the learned and powerful, the homeless freeze on our streets, disease hunts down our families and e-mail refuses even a moment’s respite from life’s demands and tragedies. The digital highway hurries in with news of friends. Their eagerly awaited child, loved with full hearts before drawing a breath of life’s sweet air, dies in utero. Hopes dash. Darkness descends. Earth cools.
But we hope, and we hope in you. So come Lord Jesus. We do not await your blessed appearance as those who do not know you. You once came, revealing as finite fact the face of the Infinite Wonder who draws us ever to you. You made it clear: this death-haunted Earth and we are loved with an everlasting love by the One who is Everlasting Love. You will subject all that is to the love you are are. We hunger for that.
So come, Lord Jesus. We hope as those who know you. For the hope that animates our hearts, the love bubbling in us for your word and world, the great “no” that speaks in our souls at the sight of all that destroys and disfigures earth and all you love, these tell us that you come even now, already subjecting our lives to your love. May we so live today. Come, Lord Jesus, finish what have started. Amen.
Philippians 3:20-21
“But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil. 3:20-21).
Prayer
Come, Lord Jesus. Advent comes again, stirring our longing for a beauty and grace not fully born. Our music assumes a minor key melancholy, the best of it written in the key of yearning. Darkness descends. Earth cools. Snow lately shimmering bright as life now lies a leaden sludge in the gutters. We scurry from door to door before bitter chill chafes our cheeks raw. From task half done, we dash to the next, racing to finish that last paper, prepare for that test, to get this paper off our desks before the holy days, for the most part forgetting that all days are holy.
Come, Lord Jesus. The world is too much with us: death haunts Darfur, murder stalks Baghdad, the way of peace escapes the wisdom of the learned and powerful, the homeless freeze on our streets, disease hunts down our families and e-mail refuses even a moment’s respite from life’s demands and tragedies. The digital highway hurries in with news of friends. Their eagerly awaited child, loved with full hearts before drawing a breath of life’s sweet air, dies in utero. Hopes dash. Darkness descends. Earth cools.
But we hope, and we hope in you. So come Lord Jesus. We do not await your blessed appearance as those who do not know you. You once came, revealing as finite fact the face of the Infinite Wonder who draws us ever to you. You made it clear: this death-haunted Earth and we are loved with an everlasting love by the One who is Everlasting Love. You will subject all that is to the love you are are. We hunger for that.
So come, Lord Jesus. We hope as those who know you. For the hope that animates our hearts, the love bubbling in us for your word and world, the great “no” that speaks in our souls at the sight of all that destroys and disfigures earth and all you love, these tell us that you come even now, already subjecting our lives to your love. May we so live today. Come, Lord Jesus, finish what have started. Amen.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Monday, December 4, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:17-21
“Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have seen in us. For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ ... . But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil. 3:17-18a, 20-21).
Prayer
You are purest of heart, Holy One, for truly you will only one thing: the fulfillment of your love in all that is and in me. Thank you. I wake chanting those two words. Thank you for making me one again. You reveal your desire in Benjamin, my one-year-old grandson. He wakes each day, brushes sleep from his eyes, smiles and laughs at the wonder of being alive. He wakes up laughing, joy dancing in his fiery black eyes.
I wake, and consciousness comes accompanied by two words, “thank you.” But for what and from where? For the crazy givenness of my own life? For the graces of relationships that daily surround me with the beauty of your holy future? Yes, surely. But mostly for the startling assurance bubbling from the deep well of my soul, springing from that invisible point where your Spirit and mine meet. A living spring flows from that convergence, an undeniable awareness that I belong to you, to the holy future from which you come to make all things new.
My morning gratitude comes unbidden by conscious willing. It is the natural effluence of a soul that knows itself already being subject to You, whose joy is to subject all the whirling elements of the universe to your loving desire. You subject my soul to your own divine heart, transforming me with all creation into the body of your glory. Your glory, my Lord Christ, is to reveal the loving joy of the One who is Love itself.
We await your final advent when you will subject all things to your desire. Then, all that is and the fullness of our souls will glisten with your glory, even as the eyes of my Benjamin. Until then may our lives grow ever more transparent to the glory and joy of your unquenchable loving. Amen.
Philippians 3:17-21
“Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have seen in us. For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ ... . But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation so that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil. 3:17-18a, 20-21).
Prayer
You are purest of heart, Holy One, for truly you will only one thing: the fulfillment of your love in all that is and in me. Thank you. I wake chanting those two words. Thank you for making me one again. You reveal your desire in Benjamin, my one-year-old grandson. He wakes each day, brushes sleep from his eyes, smiles and laughs at the wonder of being alive. He wakes up laughing, joy dancing in his fiery black eyes.
I wake, and consciousness comes accompanied by two words, “thank you.” But for what and from where? For the crazy givenness of my own life? For the graces of relationships that daily surround me with the beauty of your holy future? Yes, surely. But mostly for the startling assurance bubbling from the deep well of my soul, springing from that invisible point where your Spirit and mine meet. A living spring flows from that convergence, an undeniable awareness that I belong to you, to the holy future from which you come to make all things new.
My morning gratitude comes unbidden by conscious willing. It is the natural effluence of a soul that knows itself already being subject to You, whose joy is to subject all the whirling elements of the universe to your loving desire. You subject my soul to your own divine heart, transforming me with all creation into the body of your glory. Your glory, my Lord Christ, is to reveal the loving joy of the One who is Love itself.
We await your final advent when you will subject all things to your desire. Then, all that is and the fullness of our souls will glisten with your glory, even as the eyes of my Benjamin. Until then may our lives grow ever more transparent to the glory and joy of your unquenchable loving. Amen.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Friday, December 1, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:17-20
“Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have seen in us. For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Phil. 3:17-20).
Prayer
The seasons change. Snow blankets the ground. Northern gusts fashion shimmering art of exacting detail on every limb and fragile sprig that frames the street. Earth transforms, again, offering a fresh gallery of creative joy. Great oak boughs groan beneath the weight of glistening glory. Pairs of perfectly coated crab apple trees stand sentry at the back corners of the fence. Every delicate twig glistens as in a snow globe, perfect, no detail unattended by the painters hand. The birch splays its arms high and white above, a visual alleluia to whatever Creator imagined this.
And I wonder, Dearest Friend: Do you take creative joy in this wonder through which thousands trudge their way to daily duties? Despite the struggles it creates for us, your wondrous Earth moves me to gratitude without my choosing or willing it. It appears full grown in my soul. I merely drink in what little I can perceive about me.
Such gratitude is your your Spirit taking possession of my own, moving me to praise you for this stark and brutal beauty, and for the wonder that creation should exist at all. You move me into joy that there is something and not nothing. But my most profound gratitude is for a heart to see it and to love you for all your joyous creating, ever ongoing.
On a snowy morning, this heart of joy and love for you tells me that I am not alien to you. This heart is of your making. In my mortal flesh, you whisper assurance that you, Joyful Contriver, Master of the Snow, create in us minds for wonder and hearts to name you who are beyond all naming. And yet, we know you so well through your most exquisite creation, our brother Jesus, the beauty of your face, the face of our everlasting future, the future of all you so gladly contrive. Amen.
Philippians 3:17-20
“Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have seen in us. For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Phil. 3:17-20).
Prayer
The seasons change. Snow blankets the ground. Northern gusts fashion shimmering art of exacting detail on every limb and fragile sprig that frames the street. Earth transforms, again, offering a fresh gallery of creative joy. Great oak boughs groan beneath the weight of glistening glory. Pairs of perfectly coated crab apple trees stand sentry at the back corners of the fence. Every delicate twig glistens as in a snow globe, perfect, no detail unattended by the painters hand. The birch splays its arms high and white above, a visual alleluia to whatever Creator imagined this.
And I wonder, Dearest Friend: Do you take creative joy in this wonder through which thousands trudge their way to daily duties? Despite the struggles it creates for us, your wondrous Earth moves me to gratitude without my choosing or willing it. It appears full grown in my soul. I merely drink in what little I can perceive about me.
Such gratitude is your your Spirit taking possession of my own, moving me to praise you for this stark and brutal beauty, and for the wonder that creation should exist at all. You move me into joy that there is something and not nothing. But my most profound gratitude is for a heart to see it and to love you for all your joyous creating, ever ongoing.
On a snowy morning, this heart of joy and love for you tells me that I am not alien to you. This heart is of your making. In my mortal flesh, you whisper assurance that you, Joyful Contriver, Master of the Snow, create in us minds for wonder and hearts to name you who are beyond all naming. And yet, we know you so well through your most exquisite creation, our brother Jesus, the beauty of your face, the face of our everlasting future, the future of all you so gladly contrive. Amen.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:16
“Only let us hold fast to what we have attained” (Phil. 3: 16).
Prayer
Who holds whom, Loving Mystery? I hold close the lightness of being I know on days like this. Today, the dense clouds of unknowing roll thin, and through murky obscurity I begin to see with eyes not of head but heart. Your presence is everywhere I look. I move through the banal spaces of my life and daily labors certain that I am enveloped in a divine milieu. The love you are holds everything fast and ever-so gently. We move through you as through an enveloping cloud that embraces all reality, misting all that is—and me—with undeniable gladness.
You are everywhere, surrounding us—in the refectory, on to the mail room, up the stairs, across the great hallway, through the chapel, in the faces, filling the spaces around and within us. The most mundane duties and common conversations glow with a gentle grace that leaves me more alive for simply having been there. I see: All that is swims in an ocean of Spirit that seeks to soak us to the core with the delight which take in all you love.
I cling to your nearness. I hold fast to what you teach my heart: that you want and delight in me, that you are all love, that you have sought us along all the winding paths we have wandered and always will, that you hunger for our nearness as we do for you, that you have shown us your beauty in the face of my brother Jesus.
Tomorrow may be different. Gladness may flee. Dense clouds of obscurity may hide your face so deeply that I wonder whether today is but illusion. But I will know. Even when my hands are too weak to hold you near, you will hold me fast and always will. Amen.
Philippians 3:16
“Only let us hold fast to what we have attained” (Phil. 3: 16).
Prayer
Who holds whom, Loving Mystery? I hold close the lightness of being I know on days like this. Today, the dense clouds of unknowing roll thin, and through murky obscurity I begin to see with eyes not of head but heart. Your presence is everywhere I look. I move through the banal spaces of my life and daily labors certain that I am enveloped in a divine milieu. The love you are holds everything fast and ever-so gently. We move through you as through an enveloping cloud that embraces all reality, misting all that is—and me—with undeniable gladness.
You are everywhere, surrounding us—in the refectory, on to the mail room, up the stairs, across the great hallway, through the chapel, in the faces, filling the spaces around and within us. The most mundane duties and common conversations glow with a gentle grace that leaves me more alive for simply having been there. I see: All that is swims in an ocean of Spirit that seeks to soak us to the core with the delight which take in all you love.
I cling to your nearness. I hold fast to what you teach my heart: that you want and delight in me, that you are all love, that you have sought us along all the winding paths we have wandered and always will, that you hunger for our nearness as we do for you, that you have shown us your beauty in the face of my brother Jesus.
Tomorrow may be different. Gladness may flee. Dense clouds of obscurity may hide your face so deeply that I wonder whether today is but illusion. But I will know. Even when my hands are too weak to hold you near, you will hold me fast and always will. Amen.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:14-16
“I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us then who are mature be of the same mind; and if you think differently about anything this, too, God will reveal to you. Only let us hold fast to what we have attained” (Phil. 3:14-16).
Prayer
Give me that gracious turn of mind that is your own, most Courteous Christ. In you all things came to be. All that I see and am was fashioned in you, through you and for you. You hold all things together. You are that gravity of grace that draws together all the whirling elements of this and every universe. Yet, you do not force your love on any. You seek not to dominate my heart but to woo and win it by washing my soul in your beloved delight until I am convinced that all that I have and am is a gift of the good pleasure you take in loving one such as me.
You call me to dwell in the heart of humility. This is easy on days like this, not because my soul is downcast or disgraced but because I taste the fullness of you who are, the living bread of the Eternal Fullness whom I cannot see. Seeing and knowing you, my heart is convinced beyond any possible doubt that my knowledge of you is blessedly partial and incomplete and ever shall be. Most of all, I know your good pleasure. I am enveloped by your abiding and unfailing desire to give yourself to me that I may more fully enter the belovedness in which you have held me for all eternity.
I savor the smallness I know as you encompass me with the fullness of your loving desire, a rather lavish gift for just one life don’t you think? Still, you wrap my smallness in your encompassing wonder, lifting me into the gratitude and praise which is the highest joy a human heart may know.
Thank you, Most Courteous Christ. Give to us all, to our community of faith and learning, that humility of mind and heart that holds the precious gifts we have attained from you, but remains ever aware that you are so much more. Amen.
Philippians 3:14-16
“I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us then who are mature be of the same mind; and if you think differently about anything this, too, God will reveal to you. Only let us hold fast to what we have attained” (Phil. 3:14-16).
Prayer
Give me that gracious turn of mind that is your own, most Courteous Christ. In you all things came to be. All that I see and am was fashioned in you, through you and for you. You hold all things together. You are that gravity of grace that draws together all the whirling elements of this and every universe. Yet, you do not force your love on any. You seek not to dominate my heart but to woo and win it by washing my soul in your beloved delight until I am convinced that all that I have and am is a gift of the good pleasure you take in loving one such as me.
You call me to dwell in the heart of humility. This is easy on days like this, not because my soul is downcast or disgraced but because I taste the fullness of you who are, the living bread of the Eternal Fullness whom I cannot see. Seeing and knowing you, my heart is convinced beyond any possible doubt that my knowledge of you is blessedly partial and incomplete and ever shall be. Most of all, I know your good pleasure. I am enveloped by your abiding and unfailing desire to give yourself to me that I may more fully enter the belovedness in which you have held me for all eternity.
I savor the smallness I know as you encompass me with the fullness of your loving desire, a rather lavish gift for just one life don’t you think? Still, you wrap my smallness in your encompassing wonder, lifting me into the gratitude and praise which is the highest joy a human heart may know.
Thank you, Most Courteous Christ. Give to us all, to our community of faith and learning, that humility of mind and heart that holds the precious gifts we have attained from you, but remains ever aware that you are so much more. Amen.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:12-14
“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12-14).
Prayer
I do not want to forget ... anything. I want to cradle every moment in the unlikely journey that has brought me to this time. I want to remember every face I have ever met, every street I have ever walked, every voice I have ever heard, every town and place I have known. I want to remember them all. Every one of them is place of holy habitation where you waited for me to show up that you might love me and shape me into that image of your mercy that pleases you.
I do not want to forget what lies behind because, despite days of cynicism and moments of despair, I see that I have walked a path of blessing on which all roads led to you. No matter which way I walked and even when I tried to walk away, I arrived at your door. Every step and misstep has been part of journey into you, blessed Christ, who long ago made me your own. Each face and town, each street and sound in some mysterious way are the dark path on which I have walked into the mystery of your dying and rising.
To forget is to lose the places I have known you. It is to sacrifice the grace of gratitude for the ways you have loved me and poured this sparkling hope into my mortal flesh. How can I forget? But I do. Each day more of the journey recedes deeper in mind. It saddens me. For I lose one more place of blessing for which I would praise you, if only I could name it.
But my moments are never lost to you, Timeless Mercy. You hold them all, even as you hold me lest any part of this journey sink into the murky depths of meaninglessness. And I will press on, knowing that you who have made me your own await me on the way. You will shimmer in eyes I have not yet met. You will speak in the grace of voices yet unheard. You will coax me along unfamiliar paths that may reach my home, which was, is and always will be you. Amen.
Philippians 3:12-14
“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12-14).
Prayer
I do not want to forget ... anything. I want to cradle every moment in the unlikely journey that has brought me to this time. I want to remember every face I have ever met, every street I have ever walked, every voice I have ever heard, every town and place I have known. I want to remember them all. Every one of them is place of holy habitation where you waited for me to show up that you might love me and shape me into that image of your mercy that pleases you.
I do not want to forget what lies behind because, despite days of cynicism and moments of despair, I see that I have walked a path of blessing on which all roads led to you. No matter which way I walked and even when I tried to walk away, I arrived at your door. Every step and misstep has been part of journey into you, blessed Christ, who long ago made me your own. Each face and town, each street and sound in some mysterious way are the dark path on which I have walked into the mystery of your dying and rising.
To forget is to lose the places I have known you. It is to sacrifice the grace of gratitude for the ways you have loved me and poured this sparkling hope into my mortal flesh. How can I forget? But I do. Each day more of the journey recedes deeper in mind. It saddens me. For I lose one more place of blessing for which I would praise you, if only I could name it.
But my moments are never lost to you, Timeless Mercy. You hold them all, even as you hold me lest any part of this journey sink into the murky depths of meaninglessness. And I will press on, knowing that you who have made me your own await me on the way. You will shimmer in eyes I have not yet met. You will speak in the grace of voices yet unheard. You will coax me along unfamiliar paths that may reach my home, which was, is and always will be you. Amen.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Today’s reading
Philippians 3:12-14
“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have already made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12-14).
Prayer
My life, Dear One, is a rhythm of resting and pressing on. But there is little of the spiritual athlete in me today, perhaps ever. I prefer to rest in the mystery of your love for me, tasting the sweetness of the sacraments you prepare for me: Dixie’s smile, my children’s voices on the phone, the mischief of my grandsons, moody November sunsets, reading gentle souls whose words again remind me that I am not alone. All these and more are sacraments of a holy grace that fills this needy heart of mine. Only in recent years have I allowed myself to rest, to sink into the ocean of your mercy, trusting you will always bear me in your beloved nearness.
But Monday comes. The semester marches inexorably to a close. Insistent voices cry out in consciousness, “Press on. There is work to do, phone calls to make, appointments to keep, people to consult, bills to pay, articles and a sermon to write.” The voices shake my soul from languid currents of re-creation. They consume my consciousness with an insistent staccato that allows no gracious empty spaces in soul or schedule.
I prefer to rest a while longer, but neither the day nor you, it seems, will allow it. And you offer a promise: More. There is more of you to know, to savor, to enter. You are Boundless Life, and the wonder you are is beyond height or depth, length or breadth. You are always more than I think or can imagine, always more than I know or ever can know, more life, more love, more hope, more than any can ever know. No arms are long enough to gather you in. No mind can cast its net wide enough to capture the immeasurable fullness of your life and holy labor in this and every cosmos.
Whatever I have known of you, however small or great, there is more of you to make my own, more that you are infinitely pleased to give… and to give me. Thank you. Thank you for refusing to let me rest with what is, with what I have known of you. Pull me on even against my willing that I may press deeper into the mystery of you, who are all love and life. Amen.
Philippians 3:12-14
“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have already made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 3:12-14).
Prayer
My life, Dear One, is a rhythm of resting and pressing on. But there is little of the spiritual athlete in me today, perhaps ever. I prefer to rest in the mystery of your love for me, tasting the sweetness of the sacraments you prepare for me: Dixie’s smile, my children’s voices on the phone, the mischief of my grandsons, moody November sunsets, reading gentle souls whose words again remind me that I am not alone. All these and more are sacraments of a holy grace that fills this needy heart of mine. Only in recent years have I allowed myself to rest, to sink into the ocean of your mercy, trusting you will always bear me in your beloved nearness.
But Monday comes. The semester marches inexorably to a close. Insistent voices cry out in consciousness, “Press on. There is work to do, phone calls to make, appointments to keep, people to consult, bills to pay, articles and a sermon to write.” The voices shake my soul from languid currents of re-creation. They consume my consciousness with an insistent staccato that allows no gracious empty spaces in soul or schedule.
I prefer to rest a while longer, but neither the day nor you, it seems, will allow it. And you offer a promise: More. There is more of you to know, to savor, to enter. You are Boundless Life, and the wonder you are is beyond height or depth, length or breadth. You are always more than I think or can imagine, always more than I know or ever can know, more life, more love, more hope, more than any can ever know. No arms are long enough to gather you in. No mind can cast its net wide enough to capture the immeasurable fullness of your life and holy labor in this and every cosmos.
Whatever I have known of you, however small or great, there is more of you to make my own, more that you are infinitely pleased to give… and to give me. Thank you. Thank you for refusing to let me rest with what is, with what I have known of you. Pull me on even against my willing that I may press deeper into the mystery of you, who are all love and life. Amen.
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