Friday, June 20, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 10:38-39

Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it.

Prayer

We don’t go looking for crosses, Jesus. Nor should we. You didn’t. You tried to avoid yours, begging the Loving Mystery of God for another way. But there wasn’t, and you knew it.

The cross proved necessary to reveal the heart of God and the heart of a world that does not know God. So you took it up because of who you are; your vocation required it.

Our crosses come to us. We do not seek them. They come amid the labors of love which the Divine Majesty has planted in our hearts. It is so with us, just as with you. Jesus.

So let us be as you. Grant us hope and courage that we may give ourselves to all that you have given us the privilege of loving. Let us know the joy of loving to the full, surrendering ourselves to the precious places and faces of our lives.

For there we will find ourselves … and you.

Our hearts desperately need to be given away.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 10:32-36

'So if anyone declares himself for me in the presence of human beings, I will declare myself for him in the presence of my Father in heaven. But the one who disowns me in the presence of human beings, I will disown in the presence of my Father in heaven. 'Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth: it is not peace I have come to bring, but a sword. For I have come to set son against father, daughter against mother, daughter-in-law against mother-in-law ... .

Prayer

It has taken me most of a lifetime to be able to declare my love for you in unwelcoming or uncertain contexts. But I have come to know that denying you, Jesus, is denying myself, heart and soul, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind.

I should be grateful for that, and I am. It tells me you are a bigger part of me than 10 years ago or 20 … or … . This is great consolation, for I know what love as lies in the corners of this soul is you, the one I want to know before, above and in all things.

But it is also fearful because I know it remains possible for me to deny you. Troubled places in me remain unconverted from their devout fears. I could yet taste the dusty shell of a self that has lost you. It makes me shudder.

So, too, your words about family. My family has been such grace to me, Jesus, holy and blessed sacrament. I would not be sitting here praising to you were it not for them. I doubt I would be alive, tasting the sweet freshness of this new day. They were your saving arms and hands, your heart and eyes. And I thank you.

How could I turn against them? Yet, my love of you has made me odd, peculiar in some of their eyes. But I no longer mind so much, even as you still manage to love them through me.

I pray never to lose them and that they not be lost to your Spirit. But let nothing, not even these, come between us. I wish never to be alien to you, my Lord, my Life.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 10:26-31

'So do not be afraid of them. Everything now covered up will be uncovered, and everything now hidden will be made clear. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the daylight; what you hear in whispers, proclaim from the housetops. 'Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; fear him rather who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Can you not buy two sparrows for a penny? And yet not one falls to the ground without your Father knowing. Why, every hair on your head has been counted. So there is no need to be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Prayer

I think I fear me most, Jesus. I can kill my soul right here and now. And sometimes do.

I ignore your prompting. I neglect the things that I know my soul needs to live, the places and practices that dispose my heart to your nearness. I get lost in the noise of living and lose the still voice of silence in which I know you.

I fear me because I so often am confused, unsure what I need for this soul to live, to thrive, to remain supple and free. I confuse temporary moods with deep abiding truths and fail to walk in the ways that are life.

You know me. I make no attempt to hide. It would be futile anyway. I have come to believe that you do, indeed, know every hair on my graying head.

But I do not fear your knowledge of me. It’s the best news I know because what I know of you trumps everything you know of me. In your love I am of immense worth, and so I proclaim what I know: You are love, the love that holds all and will be all in all.

What more can I need?

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 10:24-25

[Jesus said:] Disciple is not superior to teacher, nor slave to master. It is enough for disciple to grow to be like teacher, and slave like master. If they have called the master of the house "Beelzebul", how much more the members of his household?

Prayer

Your words are less about your goodness, Jesus, than about your persecution. You revealed the beauty of the kingdom, yet many rejected and denounced you.

We can never hope to shine so clearly as you, transparent to the Eternal Mystery of God. We look at you and savor what we see, a love that shines on just and unjust alike, assuring us that, yes, there is plenty here for us, too.

I pray to be a window on the grace that holds me, shining with the light that fills you. And this you promise.

But you also promise, or shall I say ‘warn of,’ something far tougher to take. As you were rejected so shall we be. You send us on a journey of revelation in which we reveal the goodness of your face in acts of mercy and healing, in meekness and forgiveness, in prayer for enemies and making peace with our accusers, in accepted suffering and the joy of casting every care on you.

But our journey of witness reveals you also to our own souls as we come to know your sufficiency amid our insufficiency, our lack, our wants, our fears.

You are there and ever will be, especially when we know the rejections than came also to you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, June 13, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 10:1-8

He summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits with power to drive them out and to cure all kinds of disease and all kinds of illness. These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon who is known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James the son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas, and Matthew the tax collector; James the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, who was also his betrayer. These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them as follows: 'Do not make your way to gentile territory, and do not enter any Samaritan town; go instead to the lost sheep of the House of Israel. And as you go, proclaim that the kingdom of Heaven is close at hand. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those suffering from virulent skin-diseases, drive out devils. You received without charge, give without charge.'

Prayer

Who are we Jesus? We have gathered around you now for the past two millennia. We call upon you in diverse languages and try to discern your way amid the maw of cultures that are at far odds with you.

As often as not, we lose our way. Our times, places and societies exercise far greater power over our identities than do you. Yet, there remains in me a desire to be shaped by you, to live a life that expresses you, a life in which you might recognize a soul that belongs to you.

But I cannot do that alone. It has taken me nearly all of five decades to know this. I need a community that believes the kingdom of heaven is, indeed, near, and hence can give of heart and soul without charge. I need a community that knows and is your compassion, a community where my faults can find forgiveness and a wandering soul can find welcome.

I need those who know your mission to cure and cleanse and raise the dead. (And who are more dead than they who imagine they can truly live without you and the nearness of your rule?).

I want more and more to find myself among this people of hope you create, a people defined by your mission, a people who crave your nearness and who hunger and thirst for the mercy that is your face on our earth.

For this is who we are, why we gather and why our hope is you, alone.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 9:35-10:1

Jesus made a tour through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing all kinds of disease and all kinds of illness. And when he saw the crowds he felt sorry for them because they were harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is rich but the laborers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers to his harvest.' He summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits with power to drive them out and to cure all kinds of disease and all kinds of illness.

Prayer

We are modern people, Jesus. Our first move, always, is to distance ourselves from such outlandishness. We don’t believe the church has power over demons (whatever they are) or authority to cure the bodies of the broken. This is hardly our task or power. For us, that authority belongs to the medical community.

Our first move upon hearing that someone has been healed after prayer is to explain it away. We abolish the mystery by assuring ourselves it was the result of rational processes human minds can understand and chart.

In the process, we remove any promise or claim your actions might have on us. The sending of your followers becomes just an old story about someone else, long ago and far away.

Still, I wonder: What happens when people believe they have received power from you to free and heal? What happens when we imagine that we are sent with a story that is true, a love that is real? What happens when our hearts are convinced of your conviction to birth a new community fashioned by a compassion that shines on just and unjust alike, not by our ideas of justice?

I wonder if we would then know a power to speak and act and love that does, indeed, heal and set free. We then could heal and release souls from the bondages that reduce us to so much less than your desire for us.

Convince our hearts, Jesus, and send us to a world with a word that is true.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, June 9, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 9:35-37

Jesus made a tour through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing all kinds of disease and all kinds of illness. And when he saw the crowds he felt sorry for them because they were harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is rich but the laborers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers to his harvest.'

Prayer

I have seen the harvest, Jesus. Many times. I have climbed the side of grain boxes heaped with wheat and corn. I have dug my hands deep into the grain and pulled them out, kernels running between my fingers. Then I’d do it again for the soul satisfaction of touching earth’s goodness.

In early summer, I’ve stacked bales of fresh hay on the wagon as the rhythmic hump of the baler pushed them from its bowels. We went back and forth across the field under a scorching sky, careful to bale up all the wind rows lest any be lost. Cows get hungry when the grass lies dead and buried under mid-winter snows.

So I’d pound my hands on the bales of sweet alfalfa and clover, stack them high and smile with pleasure at the honey scent in my senses and the joy of being about the business of life.

So I wonder, Jesus, what did you see and sense as you looked at the harvest, the wheat not yet cut, grain still standing in the fields?

I have an inkling. It’s not unique. It’s the same sighing as any human soul who has ever put seed into the ground: “Don’t let it be lost. Let it not be wasted. Let it come to life and grow and yield its fullness. And let me taste and know the goodness of what has been planted.”

It’s a farmer’s prayer, I suppose. I come by it naturally. After all these years of city streets, it remains indelible in my soul. And it tells me my purpose and yours. Your heart is moved by the sweet scent of the harvest. So may we labor with joy to gather the rich yield of human souls, ours and all you love lest any be lost.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 31:19-24

Yahweh, what quantities of good things you have in store for those who fear you, and bestow on those who make you their refuge, for all humanity to see. Safe in your presence you hide them, far from human plotting, shielding them in your tent, far from contentious tongues. Blessed be Yahweh who works for me miracles of his faithful love (in a fortified city)! In a state of terror I cried,--I have been cut off from your sight!--Yet you heard my plea for help when I cried out to you. Love Yahweh, all his faithful: Yahweh protects his loyal servants, but he repays the arrogant with interest. Be brave, take heart, all who put your hope in Yahweh.

Prayer

You hide us, O Lord. Tucked inside your immensity, wrapped in mother’s arms, hidden in the bosom of eternity, you hold us fast and safe.

But so seldom do we believe it. And less seldom do we walk into the new day convinced utterly of the safety of our souls, the enormity of your embrace, the fierceness of your faithfulness. But today, I do. And today, I will.

Security abides this heart. Not the security of hiding away from the day, but the calm of assurance. I have no assurance that what I want or think I need will come to me. It may not, which likely is just as well. I surrendered the idea that I know what’s best years ago.

Nor have I any particular confidence that I possess sufficient strength, will and insight to thrive at the tasks to which I lay my hand. I am well acquainted with how weak and needy I can be, to say nothing of how distractible. And I no longer feel much shame about it. For the most part, I have given up trying to hide or deny it.

I am what I am. Yours.

Of this I am certain.

And you are unimaginable immensity, wrapping me body and soul in innumerable layers of love’s unfailing embrace.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, June 2, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 31:1-5

In you, Yahweh, I have taken refuge, let me never be put to shame, in your saving justice deliver me, rescue me, turn your ear to me, make haste. Be for me a rock--fastness, a fortified citadel to save me. You are my rock, my rampart; true to your name, lead me and guide me! Draw me out of the net they have spread for me, for you are my refuge; to your hands I commit my spirit, by you have I been redeemed. God of truth.

Prayer

Yahweh, almighty, all motherly,
our rest and rock,
our refuge and rescue
our home and joy,
our light and life.

You are our clothing,
love enfolding, all possessing,
love surrounding all we are.
You embrace and grace
all life; you are all
good and the good
of all that is
is you.

Through love you made us,
in love preserve us. From
deepest eternity you know
and hold us. Grant our hearts
true knowledge of you.

Save us amid all
uncertainty that certainty
may abide each heart
that all is well,
all shall be well,
and all manner of things will
be well, for all rests
in you,
whose love never wanes
and never will.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, May 30, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 131

Yahweh, my heart is not haughty,
I do not set my sights too high.
I have taken no part in great affairs,
in wonders beyond my scope.

No, I hold myself in quiet and silence,
like a little child in its mother’s arms,
like a little child, so I keep myself.

Let Israel hope in Yahweh
henceforth and for ever.

Prayer

For you my heart longs
in the morning. Calm
I seek, to stable restless
mind, its anxious
doubts caressing,
uncertain that the day--
and I--are sufficient
to the day’s demands.

Be certain, my soul;
insufficient you are,
certainly so, hold no
doubt, but know:
it matters not;
go quiet, undaunted
lay hand to task; hope
attends, love abides;
joy is not absence
of challenge, not
abolition of tension
but holy knowing: Yahweh
keeps you, holds your
life, your moments.
In Yahweh rests all
calm, comes your strength.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 131

Yahweh, my heart is not haughty,
I do not set my sights too high.
I have taken no part in great affairs,
in wonders beyond my scope.

No, I hold myself in quiet and silence,
like a little child in its mother’s arms,
like a little child, so I keep myself.

Let Israel hope in Yahweh
henceforth and for ever.

Prayer

Quiet, I rest,
silent, at home,
in arms of love,
enrapt, needing not,
to speak;
words spell not
what cannot be
spelled or
said or known,
only inhabited,
at rest in arms of
love unspeakable.

Be silent, my soul,
hold still in Thou
who cannot
be held, who
holds all in
mothers’ hands.
Your smallness, O
soul, is your peace,
your place, your
help, your hope,
your might, your
sight, the
wisdom of calm.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 131

Yahweh, my heart is not haughty,
I do not set my sights too high.
I have taken no part in great affairs,
in wonders beyond my scope.

No, I hold myself in quiet and silence,
like a little child in its mother’s arms,
like a little child, so I keep myself.

Let Israel hope in Yahweh
henceforth and for ever.

Prayer

You are my place, Holy One;
knowing you, I know
myself, and surrender my
grasping for that which you
have not intended
for me.

But when I praise you,
when your greatness
envelops my soul,
I am complete, with
nothing to prove, and
needing nothing
but you.

I go to my tasks, my
heart calm, my
soul assured, my
mind clear, my
focus pure, my
hands given to
the work you give,
my true worship.

You are my place, Holy One;
in you I know myself,
my freedom.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 8:1-5

Yahweh our Lord,how majestic is your name throughout the world!
Whoever keeps singing of your majesty higher than the heavens,even through the mouths of children, or of babes in arms,you make him a fortress, firm against your foes,to subdue the enemy and the rebel.I look up at your heavens, shaped by your fingers,at the moon and the stars you set firm -what are human beings that you spare a thought for them,or the child of Adam that you care for him?
Yet you have made him little less than a god,you have crowned him with glory and beauty ….'

Prayer

Joy is our strength,
the joy of praising you,
Yahweh, of waking to
morning’s light, knowing
the breath of life in my lungs is
your first gift to me,
breath whose first purpose
is to praise you, Maker of life,
Craftsman of air.

For you employ your power
to craft creation, clearing a
broad and open space
that life--and me--
may be, that being and joy may
pour into the great emptiness where
nothingness ruled, where crimson
sunsets did not spread the sky, speaking
with ancient voice that life is
your purpose,
your way,
your call,
your all.

Your way fills me with
each daybreak breath, and
praise arises from that
depth of heart that hears
the word
the silent air cries:
I am life and the life
in you is me.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, May 19, 2008

Today’s text

Psalm 8:1-5

Yahweh our Lord,how majestic is your name throughout the world!

Whoever keeps singing of your majesty higher than the heavens,even through the mouths of children, or of babes in arms,you make him a fortress, firm against your foes, to subdue the enemy and the rebel.

I look up at your heavens, shaped by your fingers,at the moon and the stars you set firm -what are human beings that you spare a thought for them, or the child of Adam that you care for him?

Yet you have made him little less than a god, you have crowned him with glory and beauty ….'

Prayer

What are we that you should think of us?
What in our tiny lives draws you?

Wrong question. The right one:
Who are you, Loving Mystery,
that you attend to us?
What is it about you
that you care?

I am amazed and moved that you,
Holy Secret, should know me, and more
that you love me. You
whose hands imprison the stars,
whose heart is warm as life,
whose reach stretches beyond the galaxies,
who is as unknowable to me as I
am to the intricate orange ladybug
that flies from my finger to the music
of Ben’s little boy giggles.

Just so, you delight in me, and
for that moment, I get it. I
become the love you are,
the crowning glory of being
human, sharing your beauty,
knowing you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, May 16, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 28:16-20

Meanwhile the eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said, 'All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And look, I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.'

Prayer

‘Yes,’ this is your word to us.

Yes, I am with you. Yes, I always will be. Yes, in deepest sorrow. Yes, when you have lost your way, your sight, yourself. Yes, when you don’t know what to do and when there is nothing you can do.

Yes, today and tomorrow. Yes, on this corner of my good Earth and wherever your feet may take you.

Yes, to the ends of the Earth and the eternity of time.

Yes, for you are never abandoned. You are forever the unforsaken, the beloved, a cradled child. Mine. And my word to you is singular.

Yes.

My saints long before you clung to my ‘Yes’ in circumstances unimaginable, amid joys inexpressible and griefs unbearable. And I was enough for them.

I was their ‘Yes,’ and ever I shall be. For you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 28:16-20

Meanwhile the eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said, 'All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And look, I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.'

Prayer

‘Go,’ you say.

So we go. We go to the joyous task of naming the Love who embraces all time and space. We go with anticipation, expecting to feel your mysterious nearness which pervades this and every universe.

We go with laughter, eager to embrace each child of earth. Help us to hold them in the tenderness in which you hold us.

We go to cradle their infants and lay loving hands on their beloved dead, pouring on each the ancient waters that flow from the Eternal Spring of your divine heart.

We go to teach a way our feet have not mastered and never will. We go to speak a wisdom for which we barely have words, for what words can contain you?

We go because you send us beyond where we have been and what we know to a world you love for reasons we can’t understand.

We go in the grace of your presence, which will never leave or forsake us.

So we go.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, May 12, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 28:16-20

Meanwhile the eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said, 'All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And look, I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.'

Prayer

You spoke to them all, Jesus, those who believed and those who hesitated. Why did they hesitate to fall at your feet?

Did some doubt that it was you, crucified yet alive again? Maybe they wondered if they could believe their eyes. Perhaps, proud, they resisted such humility.

Or they were afraid. If you could come back from the dead, what might you do to those who disappointed and displeased you? And your friends did just that.

They look like the group that circles you on Sunday morning: believing and doubting, fearing and hoping, beaten down and proud, cynical yet with hungry hearts wanting.

But my eyes fix not on them but on you, Jesus. You stand there alive, receiving them all. You send no one away. There is no retribution in your soul, no anger in your bearing, no condemnation in your words.

You speak, your risen voice rising and falling, a gracious music of resurrected welcome embracing the bodies of the all-too-human. Your beloved voice envelops them as beloved and sends them forth as the never forsaken.

All of them, without distinction.

And I know: The voice that speaks with all authority embraces me in my full humanity, loving, wanting and sending me with all my unpredictable quirks and flaws, fears and faith.

All that matters is that voice that receives us all.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, May 9, 2008

Today’s text

John 7:37-39

On the last day, the great day of the festival, Jesus stood and cried out: 'Let anyone who is thirsty come to me! Let anyone who believes in me come and drink! Let anyone who believes in me come and drink! As scripture says, "From his heart shall flow streams of living water.” ' He was speaking of the Spirit which those who believed in him were to receive; for there was no Spirit as yet because Jesus had not yet been glorified.

Prayer

Come, Holy Spirit. Fill our hearts that we may flow with living water, fresh and free, clean and clear, cold and bracing.

We go from places we know and faces we love, unsure of what awaits in parts unknown. Except this: You.

You play. From most ancient days to unseen endings, you play. It is your way.

Once I thought you worked. But I got it wrong.

Bursting from primordial mountainsides, streams flow free, tumbling over rocks, spilling, foaming, dancing down, splashing into each low space, freshening tried earth, greening the ground.

So you are, Spirit of Life: bubbling fresh and free from primordial depths of the Eternal Generosity whose face we cannot see. You spill and splash, greening the soul, making fresh each dusty place, filling, flowing, a dancing stream of life … even in death’s own face.

And we have seen it. We know the dance in our souls. It’s in our bones and blood.

So come Holy Spirit, play, dance. Carry us wherever you choose. It doesn’t matter where.

Your dancing current is our home.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday May 7, 2008

Today’s text

John 7:37-38

On the last day, the great day of the festival, Jesus stood and cried out: 'Let anyone who is thirsty come to me! Let anyone who believes in me come and drink! Let anyone who believes in me come and drink! As scripture says, "From his heart shall flow streams of living water." '

Prayer

A stream flows from my depths, Jesus. A spring bubbles there. It fills the heart and spills into my daily world. Life, peace, joy, blessing, all these well from that primordial place, that virginal point where my soul opens to yours.

From that infinitesimal aperture in the dark reaches of inaccessible soul, that which is you flows ancient and true, fresh and cold, into this life, giving life.

When I dwell in that stream, turning mind and heart to your incessant giving, I live.

So why do I not live from the depths of this bubbling heart? Anxieties and angers, conflicts and fears, old wounds and fresh hurts draw me to live the mood of the moment, detached from that life-giving stream that freshens the soul and keeps me human.

So I return and drink from that stream of grace that flows from you into this heart of mine. And you pull me into its flow. You still my soul and give all I need to live as your beloved, filled and encompassed by an eternal spring.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, May 5, 2008

Monday, May 5, 2008

Today’s text

John 7:37-38

On the last day, the great day of the festival, Jesus stood and cried out: 'Let anyone who is thirsty come to me! Let anyone who believes in me come and drink! Let anyone who believes in me come and drink! As scripture says, "From his heart shall flow streams of living water." '

Prayer

I see you there, Jesus. You stand in the midst of the people, crying out your heart. More: I feel you there. I sense your desire, “Let them come and drink.”

But only the thirsty, of course. And that excludes … no one. Certainly not me.

We all thirst. We are made for more, more than we know or possess, more love, more grace, more peace and purpose, more of your blessed presence.

Our thirst is the mark of having been created in your image. And I know something of your image as I watch you at the festival, crying aloud, inviting the thirsty to come, believe and drink in the secret substance of your life.

You fill our souls with all that you are, slaking our ancient thirst, satisfying our desire. And we become flowing springs of your goodness and grace, giving our lives in gentle acts of generosity.

You never cease to keep this promise, Jesus. It is your heart’s desire. So let us believe you and go our ways in peace. For we know: You will give living water to our parched souls in the heat of this and every day.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, May 2, 2008

Today’s text

John 17:7-11

Now at last they have recognized that all you have given me comes from you for I have given them the teaching you gave to me, and they have indeed accepted it and know for certain that I came from you, and have believed that it was you who sent me. It is for them that I pray. I am not praying for the world but for those you have given me, because they belong to you. All I have is yours and all you have is mine, and in them I am glorified. I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep those you have given me true to your name, so that they may be one like us.

Prayer

Like us … . Two small words spark joy and tears for which I am thankful. They tell me my soul is neither dead nor dull but still able to taste your goodness.

You pray, Jesus, that we be one like you and the Blessed Mystery are one, sharing all that you are so that to see the one is to know the other. And in this case, the Totally Other, the face of God.

You are glorified in us, Jesus, as we hold you fast, abiding in your love and loving to the end of our souls, the end of our abilities, the end of our days. In the loving, we taste and know the goodness of all you share with the Holy One.

It is a feast we shall know when our breath here stops--and now, in the sweetness of sharing, made sweeter by the endings which rush at us: the end of lives, the end of school, the departure of friends and treasured colleagues, the great exodus that takes our souls down the roads you appoint for us.

As we prepare to go, be glorified in us, my brother.

Be glorified in the love you pry out of your hearts to share with those with whom we have been privileged to share our lives. Be glorified in us as we leave to find fresh connections with faces far off for whom you also pray.

Be glorified that we may taste what it is to be like you, one with the Blessed Mystery whose love never departs, even when we must.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Today’s text

John 17:4-6

And eternal life is this: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I have glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. Now, Father, glorify me with that glory I had with you before ever the world existed. I have revealed your name to those whom you took from the world to give me. They were yours and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word.

Prayer

You reveal your glory, Holy One. And it brings us joy when you do.

For your glory is the love that courses through the heart of your Triune life. And you reveal this glory in humble circles of loving care where human souls are truly human.

Drawn into circles of sharing, we name our cares and the places where, amid noise and silence, we know you. We listen and learn we are not alone. Such exquisite knowledge opens our hearts, and you join as one.

We share in common the loving mystery of your life. It flows among us. We see the beauty you are in the face of another you love more than we can know. And we love them too, knowing you in that love.

This is the glory of your life, O three-personed God, to be joined with you and each other in the community of loving care you are. To taste the glory of your life in unity of soul with other souls who know you.

And there, finally, to know you and eternity as well.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Today’s text

John 17:1-3

After saying this, Jesus raised his eyes to heaven and said: Father, the hour has come: glorify your Son so that your Son may glorify you; so that, just as you have given him power over all humanity, he may give eternal life to all those you have entrusted to him. And eternal life is this: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.

Prayer

Grant us your greatest treasure, O God. Pour out your riches and lift us above our poverty of soul. Give us the immensity of your enormity that we may longer scrape by.

For I do. I have ample wealth for food and clothing and shelter. But I scrape through many situations with my soul no longer intact. My actions and words are barren and poor of Spirit. They lack generosity and depth, and fail to voice the joy that marks true knowledge of you.

And all because my mind and heart dwell far from the places where I know you. I dwell in the land of my insufficiency, the territory of anxiety over unfinished tasks and too little time.

I scrape by but fail to thrive and bless. Conversations wind to an end without a word of joy and generosity passing my lips to enrich the poverty of another.

For my soul is poor. I am bedeviled by the next thing I must do, not on sharing the love that gives true knowledge of you and builds community of heart and mind.

This I confess. But much more: I seek to drink the fullness of your Fullness. My great joy is to brim with the elation of this love that fills me as I am here with you. It fills and spills from my soul, running over, a current of life and joy.

So keep me mindful of you and of the love you are. Fill me with knowledge of you that I may live with largess. Give us this, your greatest treasure, and we will be poor of soul no longer.

We shall live, and all we touch will be more alive for the treasure we bear.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, April 25, 2008

Today’s text

John 14:18-21

I shall not leave you orphans; I shall come to you. In a short time the world will no longer see me; but you will see that I live and you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father and you in me and I in you. Whoever holds to my commandments and keeps them is the one who loves me; and whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I shall love him and reveal myself to him.'

Prayer

It is in love you are revealed, Holy One.

In love, we know you. In love, we see you. In love, we understand your command is the love you are, the love you give, the love in us that opens our eyes to see that love is the source and omega point of the cosmos and of our little lives.

In love you make the universe that in love you may join with it. In love you sing your song that all may join with you in seamless harmony.

In love, our brother Jesus entered this garden of your delight revealing the intention of love. And in love you continue to delight in this garden despite its defilement and our determined rejection of your generosity.

For neither defilement nor rejection drives you away. In love your hungry heart hunts out every opening to your love that all may glow with the love you are. And all reveal the beauty of your face.

May we see and be such beauty.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Today’s text

John 14:18-21

I shall not leave you orphans; I shall come to you. In a short time the world will no longer see me; but you will see that I live and you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father and you in me and I in you. Whoever holds to my commandments and keeps them is the one who loves me; and whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I shall love him and reveal myself to him.'

Prayer

You invite me into a great circle of intimate connection, Jesus. You in the Father, me in you, you in me: one great shared love coursing among us.

And there, in that circle of love, to find the secret stream that draws all time and space into its flow.

And that flow is you, Holy One, your triune life.

I have no idea where that blessed current will carry me. But unknowing is a way. So I come again begging.

Carry me in that great flow that has been going on since the universe was darkness. Carry me in the current of love you are. Carry me wherever you please even though I may fight you all the way. Draw me deep and dizzy into the spinning whirlpool where you are in the Father and I in you and you in me.

For then only am I free. Then only do find within this love for your command. Then only do I know, truly know, that I am not and never will be an orphan.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, April 21, 2008

Today’s text

John 14:15-17

If you love me you will keep my commandments. I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you for ever, the Spirit of truth whom the world can never accept since it neither sees nor knows him; but you know him, because he is with you, he is in you.’

Prayer

I have seen the truth, my Brother; in rarest moments of blessedness its Spirit fills me.

The truth is the eyes of a mother gazing into the sleeping face of her new born. It is a loving tenderness before which all words are beggars.

The truth is the sparkling laughter of a two-year old, alight with the fire of joy. It is the abundance of meeting every moment without reserve.

This is the Spirit you send to be with and in us, Jesus, your Spirit: the Spirit of God’s loving delight, the Spirit of God’s great giving, the Spirit of God’s holy joy, the Spirit that bears us into the truth that we might live the truth you are.

It is your commandment that we might be as you, alive with the fire of loving delight. Such life is far beyond our cramped hearts. But you give the Spirit of truth that sweeps us into the flood of holy generosity flowing from the hidden heart of the universe.

So fill us, my Brother. Fill us to overflowing with whatever magic lies behind the eyes of the loving mother and the fiery sparkle of the child.

May we be as full of your truth as they, and you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Today’s text

John 14:5-11

Thomas said, 'Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?' Jesus said: I am the Way; I am Truth and Life. No one can come to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father too. From this moment you know him and have seen him. Philip said, 'Lord, show us the Father and then we shall be satisfied.' Jesus said to him, ‘Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? 'Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father, so how can you say, "Show us the Father"? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? What I say to you I do not speak of my own accord: it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his works. You must believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe it on the evidence of these works. I am.

Prayer

Many ways beckon, Jesus. They promise to make us real, alive and significant, at least in our own eyes. There is the way of knowledge in which we wrap ourselves in words and concepts imagining we can tame reality to our categories.

There is the way of accomplishment in which we consider ourselves more worthy than others, admiring (as we do) the distance between us and those who have and thus are less.

There is the way of experience in which we pretend to be more real by what we have seen, done and absorbed into memory. There are even ways of claiming our pain to separate and hold ourselves above others, as if pain and finitude were not great levelers of all humanity.

There are not enough words to name all the ways we quest for that elusive life where we finally we become real and the anxious whispers of our emptiness are silenced.

Then there is your way, Jesus. You dwell as one with the Loving Mystery for whom we have no good name. You live in utter dependence on a love human flesh cannot command, partaking and sharing a wealth beyond all human endeavor.

You live knowing that all that belongs to this Loving Mystery is yours, and to this One you belong. In this fullness, you act and speak and give what is yours. And you tell me that you are the way, bidding me to trust, to believe and to live in the fullness you share.

May I dwell in your way, my Brother. Only then will my heart become so generous that I will finally be real, beyond this shadow.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Today’s text

John 14:1-3

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You trust in God, trust also in me. In my Father's house there are many places to live in; otherwise I would have told you. I am going now to prepare a place for you, and after I have gone and prepared you a place, I shall return to take you to myself, so that you may be with me where I am.

Prayer

I am in the basement again, Jesus. Sitting here, fingers poised for any the least word you might give me. Are you here?

You want me to be with you where you are. And I am richly consoled by this thought. The warmth of a love beyond my own races through me, whispering reassurance that my faith is not in vain. It tells me that I am not alone and never will be.

I am here with you. And always will be.

Your promise is for now and ever. You come again and again to take us to yourself, the place of our great belonging. And you come even now to me. Thank you. My early morning heart requires your nearness. I am not myself apart from you.

But I ask: Come also to those whose faces trouble my own. They lose themselves as disease strips ability and memory away, leaving but the husk of the fullness that once was theirs … and ours.

I don’t know how you might come to them this day, taking them into the heart of your nearness. We who love them would be consoled to see and know how such blessing happens, especially for those who have forgotten how to hope and those who can no longer name their beloved.

But most often we neither see nor know. So with tears of wild hope we trust your promise that they, too, shall be with you where you are. This day and ever.

And we know that this place is grace beyond all human measure.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, April 14, 2008

Today’s text

John 14:1-3

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You trust in God, trust also in me. In my Father's house there are many places to live in; otherwise I would have told you. I am going now to prepare a place for you, and after I have gone and prepared you a place, I shall return to take you to myself, so that you may be with me where I am.

Prayer

The morning comes. Foggy consciousness clears as the shower stings the body to life. Too soon the day’s demands crowd the mind, making it an inhospitable place even for its own resident, me.

You speak of a dwelling place, Jesus, which you prepare for us that we may be with you. You seem to point to a time well ahead and a realm more exalted than the mundane round of daily duty.

But my morning need moves me to hear you afresh. In the house of the All Loving One there are many rooms where we may live. And I would live in one here and now.

I want, no, I need my soul to be a hospitable dwelling where the mind can rest at peace even as it grapples to order the day as see to life’s labors. I need this soul to be a place of welcome for me and for all I encounter in the coming hours.

So I ask: Can you make of me a fit dwelling place for human habitation? Will you clear out the anxious rush, the fears and grudges, the insecurities and prejudices that I may dwell even now in the house of the All Loving?

For I would dwell with you. Only so do am I a place where I and others may truly live.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, April 11, 2008

Today’s text

John 10:7-10

Jesus spoke to them again: In all truth I tell you, I am the gate of the sheepfold. All who have come before me are thieves and bandits, but the sheep took no notice of them. I am the gate. Anyone who enters through me will be safe: such a one will go in and out and will find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come so that they may have life and have it to the full.

Prayer

I rise again, my Friend. I have rested secure in your heart. Thank you.

Yesterday brought more joy than expected. Far more. Today will bring tears of remembrance and sober awareness of our human state. Again we will find that the power of our love (so mighty) cannot prevent tragedy and the passing of golden days we wanted never to end.

I pass through you into this day. I acknowledge your nearness as I walk through the gate of early morning into a world less calm and embracing than this quiet cell where I raise my heart to you.

I wish I could say I passed into every day this way. I don’t. But today I do, hearing you say that, no matter what befalls, I walk into fields of promise where I will find nurture. Pasture, you call it.

And as you do a thousand images of the rolling hills of Northwest Illinois come into view. And I am there on the land that made me much of what I am. Thank you for this too.

But it is not the land for which I most thank you or the gifts it continues to give me. I most thank you for your abiding. I thank you that I may pass into every new day through you, hearing your voice telling me that it is for abundance you come.

And it is the abundance of your divine heart that I will find on all the fields of my life, as I enter each day through you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Today’s text

John 10:1-5

[Jesus said] 'In all truth I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold through the gate, but climbs in some other way, is a thief and a bandit. He who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the flock; the gatekeeper lets him in, the sheep hear his voice, one by one he calls his own sheep and leads them out. When he has brought out all those that are his, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow because they know his voice. They will never follow a stranger, but will run away from him because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.'

Prayer

I am moved, dear Friend, by this most intimate familiarity. You call us by name, one by one. You know us. You want us. You desire our presence, our nearness, our following.

And we, blessed to hear you, draw near because we know the sound of your voice. We know you. We want to be with you, for here we are safe. Regardless what befalls us, we are safely enrapt in a love eternal and true.

Jesus, the timbre of your words creates a gracious circle of divine love. And we dwell at the center of that circle, knowing: No one who dwells within that gentle space shall ever be in death’s clutches. Not now. Not ever. You promised.

I know what it is to hear a voice I love, a voice that loves me. My whole being settles into a holy space where I know what you intend every human soul to know. The heart finds its home.

So today I see myself and my beloved at the center of that holy circle, and I listen to your voice calling our names. One by one. And I know: we are safe in a love we shall never fathom.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Today’s text

John 10:1-5

[Jesus said] 'In all truth I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold through the gate, but climbs in some other way, is a thief and a bandit. He who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the flock; the gatekeeper lets him in, the sheep hear his voice, one by one he calls his own sheep and leads them out. When he has brought out all those that are his, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow because they know his voice. They will never follow a stranger, but will run away from him because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.'

Prayer

How is that we know the voice of the shepherd, Jesus, your voice? What gives it away? And why do many not recognize your voice as the resounding of Deep calling to deep?

Perhaps the answer to the riddle is right there. Dwelling far from the deep cry of their own souls, their hearts do not resonate at the sight of you as mine does.

There is no self-congratulation in those words, Jesus, only gratitude. The reality that something in me actually can and does hear you is a mystery well beyond my comprehension.

But this I know: When I hear of you, when I look at you, Deep does in fact call to deep. It is as if there is a space in me that only you fit … or fill, and in knowing you I become whole, no longer needing something I cannot name.

So I long to hear your voice, not voices merely speaking about you. That’s no substitute for you.

I am made for you. You made me for yourself. And I wonder: Are you, too, more whole when I am at home in your heart and not off wandering in far places? I often think so.

Please consider that no disrespect. I have no desire to diminish the confounding wonder you are to me. I am simply aware that you seem to want me as much as I need you.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, April 4, 2008

Today’s text

Luke 24:28-35

When they drew near to the village to which they were going, [Jesus] made as if to go on; but they pressed him to stay with them saying, 'It is nearly evening, and the day is almost over.' So he went in to stay with them. Now while he was with them at table, he took the bread and said the blessing; then he broke it and handed it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; but he had vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, 'Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?' They set out that instant and returned to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven assembled together with their companions, who said to them, 'The Lord has indeed risen and has appeared to Simon.' Then they told their story of what had happened on the road and how they had recognized him at the breaking of bread.

Prayer

The truth of this moment echoes through the ages, my risen Friend. I have sat at tables with friends, a circle of human souls whose hearts were open to share bread and life. As the wine poured, conversation became communion, glistening with a grace ancient and true.

And I knew this is the life you intend. This is the glory of your life. This makes and keeps us human. This moment is shadowed by eternity. And my heart involuntarily gave thanks for the advance view of what you have in mind, what will be when we all share your life.

I know you at such tables, Jesus. I know you beyond word and concept as truest intuition of eternity. And I need to know nothing more, no sermons or instruction, no long words in longer books or symbols in glass, no mediated understandings. For nothing captures the intimate knowing of such moments, nothing but an open heart.

Hearts set afire by you at tables of holy intimacy and eternal generosity: that is what you make of us at your table of feasting, and every table of such blessed generosity and welcome is yours, a glistening moment of startling revelation, eternity in time.

So may it be for us today and every day. For it is there that you smile and say, “Welcome home.”

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Today’s text

Luke 24:25-32

Then Jesus said to them, 'You foolish men! So slow to believe all that the prophets have said! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer before entering into his glory?' Then, starting with Moses and going through all the prophets, he explained to them the passages throughout the scriptures that were about himself. When they drew near to the village to which they were going, he made as if to go on; but they pressed him to stay with them saying, 'It is nearly evening, and the day is almost over.' So he went in to stay with them. Now while he was with them at table, he took the bread and said the blessing; then he broke it and handed it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; but he had vanished from their sight. Then they said to each other, 'Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?'

Prayer

Stay with us Jesus. We don’t do very well without you.

A wave of anxiety certainly rushed through your Emmaus friends as you were taking your leave, going your way. I can feel it even now all these centuries later, for I share it. It is mine too.

Stay with us. Don’t leave us. Didn’t our hearts burn when we were with this mysterious stranger. And Jesus, you are always a stranger to us. Who can understand you?

But we do understand the joy of your presence, the bliss of your nearness. We understand the heavy weights of soul that fly away, lighter than air, in moments when we know you as close as our breath.

We know the love that enfolds us, evaporates our fears and bears us back into our worlds brimming with courage and gentleness. This is well known. Saints and martyrs and even schlumps like me have known your risenness, and prayed: Stay with us.

It is a prayer you create and honor, containing everything necessary.

So, my dearest Friend, stay. Stay even when we must take leave from each other. We need you more than we can say.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Today’s text

Luke 24:18-24

Then one of them, called Cleopas, answered him, 'You must be the only person staying in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have been happening there these last few days.' [Jesus] asked, 'What things?' They answered, 'All about Jesus of Nazareth, who showed himself a prophet powerful in action and speech before God and the whole people; and how our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and had him crucified. Our own hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free. And this is not all: two whole days have now gone by since it all happened; and some women from our group have astounded us: they went to the tomb in the early morning, and when they could not find the body, they came back to tell us they had seen a vision of angels who declared he was alive. Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing.'

Prayer

Sad words, Jesus: “Our own hope had been …. Past tense, over and done.

We had hoped that he would set us free. It is hard to know their precise meaning. Did they want you to cast out the Romans occupiers? Establish a new order where everyone would rest secure under their own olive tree and each walk the street in safety and peace?

Two thousand years separate me from them Jesus, but they are barely a breath away. Not even that. They are human as I, and flesh, craving freedom for body and soul. They seek a wide and open space where their hearts might swell and breathe the fullness of this mystery we call life.

It is an old desire, Jesus, as ancient as the everlasting hills. And it finds fulfillment in seeing you. You open that wide space where we might live free as free souls.

Your first friends knew that. They knew the freedom and hope that spring to life in your nearness. It is not surprising that their hearts should leap at a silly tale of angels and resurrection. They had hoped you were the one who brings freedom, even from the final threat all life must face.

You had liberated their hope to fly that high. And mine.

Liberate our hope, dearest Friend. Free our souls to seek you even in the dead places of life where it seems nothing can live.

Open that wide and open space where we might breathe.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Today’s text

Luke 24:13-17

Now that very same day, two of them were on their way to a village called Emmaus, seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking together about all that had happened. And it happened that as they were talking together and discussing it, Jesus himself came up and walked by their side; but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. He said to them, 'What are all these things that you are discussing as you walk along?' They stopped, their faces downcast.

Prayer

Why, my Lord? Why should they be kept from seeing you, the balm for our aching eyes? It is as if you prevented them from seeing. Or is this simply a way of saying they were still unable to see?

It seems clear, though, that they were kept from recognizing you. But if so, you kept them from seeing a presence that could not endure to reveal a presence that will endure to the end of earthly days.

So you kept them in the dark until they should see light. And there they struggled to understand what they had witnessed, your destruction and the collapse of their hopes.

It seems cruel. And my desire is to hurry to the happy end of the story where their eyes are open. But that would be false.

Truth is the waiting, the struggling, the confusion, the wanting. Yes, always the wanting for light to pierce the darkness of our hearts and minds that we may see and know you.

I don’t like the waiting struggle, my Risen Friend. But that is where I live much of my time. It can become a downcast state. Still, I smile, and often, knowing it is you for whom I wait. That is the one knowledge your Emmaus friends did not yet have.

But I do. So I lift my eyes from earth’s sad dust. Soon enough, the time again will be right to see and recognize you. For your risen presence endures to the end of the age and the closing of my tired eyes.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, March 28, 2008

Today’s text

John 20:24-29

Thomas, called the Twin, who was one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, 'We have seen the Lord,' but he answered, 'Unless I can see the holes that the nails made in his hands and can put my finger into the holes they made, and unless I can put my hand into his side, I refuse to believe.' Eight days later the disciples were in the house again and Thomas was with them. The doors were closed, but Jesus came in and stood among them. 'Peace be with you,' he said. Then he spoke to Thomas, 'Put your finger here; look, here are my hands. Give me your hand; put it into my side. Do not be unbelieving any more but believe.' Thomas replied, 'My Lord and my God!' Jesus said to him: You believe because you can see me. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.

Prayer

My Lord, I am Thomas. And it brings me no shame, only joy. I believe because I have seen and continue to see. Is not seeing … something … the source of faith for all us?

There are few of us who would not trade places with Thomas. I want to be the one who touches your ruined hands, who grasps your broken feet and gazes at your side.

I want to see you alive again. I hunger to hear your voice inviting me touch and know. My eyes ache to see the marks of love glorified and be moved, as now, to tears, which praise you in ways my mouth cannot. Thank you for them. They are your gift.

And thank you that, I, like Thomas, have seen you alive. I see the wonder of your resurrection in good and gentle souls who throughout my days have welcomed me to touch their hands and feet, souls and lives. There I touch and taste and know that you are good … and alive.

I keep bumping into a strange, translucent love in odds places and unexpected moments, in friends’ hearts and strangers’ smiles. And each time it fills me with a joy and an unwavering hope that evokes awareness of something that cannot be confined to our time, to any time.

It is the same joy and hope I know when I watch you speaking one word to your friends, “Peace.”

So I see, and believe, and say, “My Lord and My God.”

I am Thomas. And there is no shame in me, only joy.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Today’s text

John 20:19-23

In the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, the doors were closed in the room where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews. Jesus came and stood among them. He said to them, 'Peace be with you,' and, after saying this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples were filled with joy at seeing the Lord, and he said to them again, 'Peace be with you. 'As the Father sent me, so am I sending you.' After saying this he breathed on them and said: Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone's sins, they are forgiven; if you retain anyone's sins, they are retained.

Prayer

I see now what holiness is, my Friend. Many spirits haunt human hearts. We see and feel them: the proud and arrogant, the humble and gentle, the fearful and melancholy, the joyous and generous.

You give the Holy Spirit, granting your beloved authority to forgive sins or retain them. But the desire of your holiness is clear. You hunger to release me into freedom. The Spirit that is Holy sets human hearts free to live. She enlarges the life in our lungs, and I have seen and known it.

It is a holy and precious thing to release a human soul from the weight of shame and guilt. I have looked them in the eye, Jesus, and spoken: Your sins are forgiven, full and free.

The words are powerful. They have effect.

Lightness of being enters the room where unholy heaviness just reigned. The soul straightens up and draws the fullness of breath into constricted lungs. They suck it in, unable to get enough. Their tight face relaxes. A small smile replaces the frown lately there and expands across their face. They are alive again, truly, and free.

You see this, Jesus, and smile. This is holy. This is the breath the Spirit breathes. Holiness is this human soul, fully alive. And holiness is the Spirit that seeks fullness of life and being for all you love.

Breathe this Spirit in us that we may be … and make free. Then we truly will glorify your risen name.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Today’s text

John 20:19-23

In the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, the doors were closed in the room where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews. Jesus came and stood among them. He said to them, 'Peace be with you,' and, after saying this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples were filled with joy at seeing the Lord, and he said to them again, 'Peace be with you. 'As the Father sent me, so am I sending you.' After saying this he breathed on them and said: Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone's sins, they are forgiven; if you retain anyone's sins, they are retained.

Prayer

I do not know why we are not more proud of our wounds. We, too, have scarred hands, injured sides and broken hearts. We hide them mostly; fearing people will see our pain and know our weakness. Vulnerable we are, and we all know it. Yet, we hide.

But here you stand, Jesus, exposing the marks of your weakness. And there is no shame in you, no hiding. You offer your broken body as gift. And so it is, a gift of love.

Your ruined hands and gaping side are love’s wounds, won in the bitter battle of love with all that is not. You love much, so you suffer much. That’s the way it is for us, too, Jesus. It’s the human state.

Not even your resurrection removes your wounds. They remain, transfigured, but still there. Marks of love glorified, each speaking the compassion you are. They cannot be wiped clean without destroying your identity, your truth, the healing you bear.

And you shall bear your wounds through all eternity. And we? Our wounds move us to you for healing. Heal them, Jesus, but let love’s wounds remain. They are the best part of me.

Pr. David L. Miller

Monday, March 24, 2008

Today’s text

John 20:18-20

So Mary of Magdala told the disciples, 'I have seen the Lord,' and that he had said these things to her. In the evening of that same day, the first day of the week, the doors were closed in the room where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews. Jesus came and stood among them. He said to them, 'Peace be with you,' and, after saying this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples were filled with joy at seeing the Lord,

Prayer

You speak, Risen One, and the word is that for which our hearts pine: ‘Peace.’

Stillness fills the soul as I sit and listen to your voice: ‘Peace be with you.’

The quiet timbre of the word echoes through corridors of the mind. It exorcises the fevered rancor of daily living, emptying the noise, clearing space to be, just to be, setting all at rest.

And I sink into your words: Peace. Peace be with me. Peace be with me.

Peace: over and again, repeating your first risen word as the secret knowledge you impart to the soul. Peace: freeing me to humbly be that which you have made, neither more than less. The soul quiets, at rest.

Freedom comes at the sound of your voice bearing the first and most central word you would have me hear and know well: Peace.

You create in me this quiet space where I dwell at rest with you, where I can welcome all you love, where our joy together may abound.

So let me ever hear your first risen word.

Pr. David L. Miller

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Today’s text

John 20:9-16

But Mary was standing outside near the tomb, weeping. Then, as she wept, she stooped to look inside, and saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head, the other at the feet. They said, 'Woman, why are you weeping?' 'They have taken my Lord away,' she replied, 'and I don't know where they have put him.' As she said this she turned round and saw standing there, though she did not realize that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, 'Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?' Supposing him to be the gardener, she said, 'Sir, if you have taken him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will go and remove him.' Jesus said, 'Mary!' She turned round then and said to him in Hebrew, 'Rabbuni!'-which means Master.

Prayer

‘I do not know where they have put him.’

No longer do they put you anywhere, Jesus. There is no where you can be put. You go where you please to all that you love, and you love all. It is your risen pleasure to go to all and in all places to appear in heart-rending surprise.

My heart cries with Mary, searching for you and not finding, only to be found by you, and then to cry again at the mystery of your risen nearness.

‘Who are you looking for?’ You ask.

I look for you, dearest Friend. I look for you in every face and on dreariest days. I look for you, thirsty for your presence. But you already abide in risen nearness in the depths of my confused soul. Your risen life plays in every face I see and every street I walk.

You are the source of my searching, the love that burns my soul fanning my thirst for More: more love, more presence, more of whatever you are in risen glory.

For you live. There just is no killing you, not now. For you are the life of eternity, searching dusty corridors of soul and unknown corners of the cosmos to break our hearts again. And you do, for you are that love that holds nothing back and holds all things together.

And you are risen.

I have no words on this Easter Day to give voice to the wonder of your life, nor for the surprise that you should appear also to me, here and now.

Accept my poor praise, the emblem of a grateful soul.

Pr. David L. Miller

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Today’s text

John 19:38-42

Joseph of Arimathaea, who was a disciple of Jesus--though a secret one because he was afraid of the Jews--asked Pilate to let him remove the body of Jesus. Pilate gave permission, so they came and took it away. Nicodemus came as well-the same one who had first come to Jesus at night-time-and he brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, following the Jewish burial custom. At the place where he had been crucified there was a garden, and in this garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been buried. Since it was the Jewish Day of Preparation and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

Prayer

My heart breaks as I see them, Jesus. They make ready the place to lay you. They clean the cave, brush away the dust and lay out the spices and linens in which to wrap you.

They fumble with the dead weight of your body, turning it, holding you up, reaching under and around, winding the fabric about your form. Slowly your wounds disappear, your feet and legs, hands and side, chest and shoulders and then your face, the face they had learned to love, even though they never really understood you.

How could they? How can anyone? We don’t understand a love that loves to the end.

I understand only that I love them--and you--as they carry out their heart breaking work, laying to rest their fondest hopes, burying, too, the inexplicable yearning they knew in you presence.

Dead, now, all of it: you, the hopes for that kingdom not of this world, the unrequited longing you awakened in their depths. Dead and gone. Laid to rest. Surrendered to the dust.

All is quiet. The crowds have dispersed. Ancient blood lust has been satisfied. Now is the hour of regret and sorrow--and whispers in the silence.

That is all we have in the hour death, as hopes are dashed and blessed memories lie a crumpled in a heap on earth’s tired crust.

But, My Lord, it is not all you have.

So we wait in the stillness, daring to imagine that the garden of your tomb will bloom with everlasting tomorrow.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Today’s text

John 19:5-11

Jesus then came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said, 'Here is the man.' When they saw him, the chief priests and the guards shouted, 'Crucify him! Crucify him!' Pilate said, 'Take him yourselves and crucify him: I find no case against him.' The Jews replied, 'We have a Law, and according to that Law he ought to be put to death, because he has claimed to be Son of God.' When Pilate heard them say this his fears increased. Re-entering the Praetorium, he said to Jesus, 'Where do you come from?' But Jesus made no answer. Pilate then said to him, 'Are you refusing to speak to me? Surely you know I have power to release you and I have power to crucify you?' Jesus replied, 'You would have no power over me at all if it had not been given you from above; that is why the man who handed me over to you has the greater guilt.

Prayer

You are not from here, Jesus. You don’t act like we act. You don’t answer to powers that threaten to crush you. You don’t quail in fear. You refuse to speak until it suits you and the wild, holy purpose on which your soul is fixed.

That never leaves you. You never forget or lose track of who you are and what you are for. So you stand there, silent, making the powerful wait for your time, your pleasure, your voice.

And in silence we know: You are not from here. Your being naturally flows from a place we seldom visit, a region we do not inhabit. But you dwell there, and everything you now do reveals the realm of your abiding.

So tell me, where do you come from? Pilate’s question is mine for I, too, stand amazed. You stand in silent possession of your own soul, so unlike me. I want to know the place from which you come. For I wish to dwell there too.

So where are you from? Where do you dwell? Tell us.

But your words were always clear. You dwell in the bosom of the Loving Mystery. You come from God and now go to God. That Loving One is in you and you are enrapt in that Blest Mystery. This you know with silent certainty.

So go your ugly, brutal way, Jesus, ripped by the hands of hate. And with every word and act, with every silent knowing, show us where you are from, and we shall know the life you offer.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Today’s text

John 19:1-5

Pilate then had Jesus taken away and scourged; and after this, the soldiers twisted some thorns into a crown and put it on his head and dressed him in a purple robe. They kept coming up to him and saying, 'Hail, king of the Jews!' and slapping him in the face. Pilate came outside again and said to them, 'Look, I am going to bring him out to you to let you see that I find no case against him.' Jesus then came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said, 'Here is the man.'

Prayer

Here is the man.

What do I see as you stand there, Jesus? Is your head up or down? Hanging down, I’m sure. I have seen human beings who have been beaten. Their heads always hang. Their eyes linger on the soil of earth to which they have been reduced.

They wear sadness like an old coat; unmitigated melancholy droops from their shoulders. Their lives are but a burden to born. Joy has left. Vitality has fled. They squirm in the rough grip of a malevolence they neither understand nor control. Life is a passion to be endured, not a gift to embrace.

That is how you look to me, Jesus. You are as clear to me as my fingers on the keys. You are the man, and tears mark my sadness over the many you resemble. You suffer the passion of human souls who want only to live, but cannot enter the silent promise of the goodness they once felt in their flesh.

You are the man, every man, every woman, creation itself in travail. Beaten and bloodied. Discounted and disparaged. Far separated from those dear who treasured your smile, your nearness. Gripped by hands that care nothing for you. Yet, standing among and with us all. And standing there you bring the revelation of Eternity to wordless fulfillment.

Thank you for the love that stirs my soul as I see you descending the depths of human sorrow. Thank you for the realization that I love you, a love awakened by the beauty of all you have allowed me to see in you.

Grant that we should never fail to see the mystery of divine beauty in the pains you suffer. For then our souls would be dead. And we want to live.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, March 14, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 21:6-11

So the disciples went and did as Jesus had told them. They brought the donkey and the colt, then they laid their cloaks on their backs and he took his seat on them. Great crowds of people spread their cloaks on the road, while others were cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in his path. The crowds who went in front of him and those who followed were all shouting: Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil as people asked, 'Who is this?' and the crowds answered, 'This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.'

Prayer

I look. I watch. And desire is awakened. To be with them, bowing down, spreading my coat on the road before you with dozens of denizens of this all-too-human race: There I am, in my place of belonging.

Bowing in humble reverence before your approach, I find myself, my heart, my home. And the soul grows quiet, needing nothing.

The scene reduces me to truest identity: one soul among many, humbly offering such small service, a silent act of humble worship filled whole by the sum of all that I am.

Bending down on the road, crumpled coat at my feet, I would smooth out the wrinkles that it may lay even and low as you pass, feeling nothing but greatest honor and joy that you should tread on my coat, the sacred emblem of a soul who loves you. And needs you.

Receive my worship; hear my silent praise as I stand dumb in wonder at the glory you are. For my soul does not ask who you are. I know. And there is no knowledge more blessed.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 21:6-9

So the disciples went and did as Jesus had told them. They brought the donkey and the colt, then they laid their cloaks on their backs and he took his seat on them. Great crowds of people spread their cloaks on the road, while others were cutting branches from the trees and spreading them in his path. The crowds who went in front of him and those who followed were all shouting: Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord!

Prayer

Yes, most blessed. My heart clambers for you. For you my spirit cries out with a voice vast as the sky. My silent heart restlessly calls in the morning, stirred by the craving of a thousand ages, speaking the desire as everlasting as the ancient hills you walked.

Come.

Come, you who bear the name of the Lord. Come bearing the secret source and resting place of the world’s anxious soul. Come convince our hearts that you want to come to us, to me, to be for us that secret someone without whom we cannot truly live.

Come.

Come and quiet the primeval protests of our souls insisting, as they do, that there must be more, something, someone who can answer the incessant question for which we have no words.

Come.

Come and free us from the agitation of our unsatisfied searching. Come, and our hearts will fly open and call out with a voice vast as the sky, ‘Hosanna. You do come, and to us. Let us see you, and know ourselves for the first time.’

Come, Hosanna, love us with that love only eternity knows.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Today’s text

Matthew 21:1-5

When they were near Jerusalem and had come to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, ‘Go to the village facing you, and you will at once find a tethered donkey and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, you are to say, “The Master needs them and will send them back at once.” ‘This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet: Say to the daughter of Zion: Look, your king is approaching, humble and riding on a donkey and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.

Prayer

We wander into far countries of thought and emotion, humoring the internal dragons of our nature, feeding and indulging them. The thoughts we think, the words and scenes we play out in our minds: these, we know.

And we know our ways are not yours. Our indulgent angers and passions for personal victory over others are self-defensive tactics, protecting us from fears and wounds we refuse to face. And we continue to flee them, even when we know you await us precisely at the point of our fears. You are there, pleading, ‘come.’

How do you come to people like us, Jesus, the wandering wayward whose thoughts, plans and emotions are far from you?

Humble, you approach, refusing to stand on ceremony or principle. You come with grace and in grace. You offer God’s kindest embrace, and you offer it in utter gracefulness, not in disgust for what we make of ourselves and our souls.

You approach not in righteous indignation. That is our way. You draw near, seeking to melt our souls in the molten love of eternity that refuses to condemn, even me.

So let us hear and heed the voice of your humble wonder, for you ride on, silently whispering, “Come. Come near and know a love you will never understand. Come, and I will make you human.”

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, March 7, 2008

Today's text

John 11:38-46

Sighing again, Jesus reached the tomb: it was a cave with a stone to close the opening. Jesus said, 'Take the stone away.' Martha, the dead man's sister, said to him, 'Lord, by now he will smell; this is the fourth day since he died.' Jesus replied, 'Have I not told you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?' So they took the stone away. Then Jesus lifted up his eyes and said: Father, I thank you for hearing my prayer. I myself knew that you hear me always, but I speak for the sake of all these who are standing around me, so that they may believe it was you who sent me. When he had said this, he cried in a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out!' The dead man came out, his feet and hands bound with strips of material, and a cloth over his face. Jesus said to them, 'Unbind him, let him go free.' Many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what he did, believed in him, but some of them went to the Pharisees to tell them what Jesus had done.

Prayer

You are freedom, the unbinding of the body, the loosening of the soul. You are freedom, Jesus. In you there is no desire to bind the hearts of humankind, except to you, the one in whom we find perfect liberty.

You roll away stones of oppression from our hearts and bodies. Your name is life and peace. Your heart is given to release the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve from marauding death, the final enemy of our freedom.

In you we are free, called from tombs of isolation and fear by a love the grave cannot hold. In you we find the liberation of hope. Our souls fly open and free into a broad space wider than the sky, crystal blue and expansive as the love you are.

Surrounded, enveloped, lifted, encompassed by you on all sides, loving your beauty and seeing the beauty of you in all that is: This is freedom.

Speak to us, Liberator of Life. Speak to us from the depths of your eternal desire, and we, too, shall come out, stumbling from our tombs, our hearts finally free to know and be the love you are. Then we shall know the joy you have always intended for us.

You are freedom. May we live today in the perfect liberty of your love.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Today's text

John 11:30-37

Jesus had not yet come into the village; he was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who were in the house comforting Mary saw her get up so quickly and go out, they followed her, thinking that she was going to the tomb to weep there. Mary went to Jesus, and as soon as she saw him she threw herself at his feet, saying, 'Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.' At the sight of her tears, and those of the Jews who had come with her, Jesus was greatly distressed, and with a profound sigh he said, 'Where have you put him?' They said, 'Lord, come and see.' Jesus wept; and the Jews said, 'See how much he loved him!' But there were some who remarked, 'He opened the eyes of the blind man. Could he not have prevented this man's death?'

Prayer

The tables turn. At the beginning, Jesus, you invited those who would follow you to “come and see” where you live. And now it is you who are invited to the place of the dead: “Lord, come and see.”

Yes, please do. Come and see the tombs of earth where we lay our dead. Come and see the hidden vaults of soul where lie our lost loves, vanquished hopes and oozing wounds.

Come and see the drug addict who struggles to keep his eyes open to talk with me in the coffee shop. Come and see where our relationships lie fractured and ruined. Come and see where hungry bellies swell and forgotten souls die.

Come and see where our hearts hate. Come and see our interminable warfare and inability to live in peace, nation to nation or soul to soul.

Come and see the place of the dead.

And you do. You see it all with holy eyes that weep with a love that refuses to be consoled. And in your tears we see the face of the Eternity, the Hidden Ground of Love who sees and loves it all without exception or pause.

Let us see your face, Jesus, that we may know the passion in which we and all are held. Fan our hope for resurrection into a living flame. Only you can.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Today's text

John 11:17-26

On arriving, Jesus found that Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days already. …When Martha heard that Jesus was coming she went to meet him. Mary remained sitting in the house. Martha said to Jesus, 'Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died, but even now I know that God will grant whatever you ask of him.' Jesus said to her, 'Your brother will rise again.' Martha said, 'I know he will rise again at the resurrection on the last day.' Jesus said: I am the resurrection. Anyone who believes in me, even though that person dies, will live, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this? 'Yes, Lord,' she said, 'I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.'

Prayer

You are life, dearest Friend. Where you are the dead breathe. And I know it.

There are dead places in me, my Friend, scorched stretches of soul burnt lifeless. I have a hard time saying the reasons how or why. The days wound us in a thousand ways.

Voices from within and without penetrate the heart and taunt, whispering, sometimes shouting that I am hopelessly flawed and constantly failing, that I will never reach the measure of that unknown something I think I should be, that I am doomed to lose what I need, living a half-life. At best.

My soul believes the voices, and I die.

Such is not a death unto life, just death, scorched flesh, red-brown and brittle, empty husks of yester-life, dried milk weed in the dead of winter.

And then.

And then I know you near, surrounding and enveloping me, husk and all. Scorched flesh grows soft and supple as the nectar of your love fills each tiny vein. And sweetest air fills the lungs with the freshness of new day.

And I believe the truth, not mere lies: You are the resurrection. In you, I do not die. And never will.

So let my heart not wander from you. I want to live with the life you are. Dear friend, fill every vein.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Today's text

John 11:1-7

There was a man named Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister, Martha, and he was ill. It was the same Mary, the sister of the sick man Lazarus, who anointed the Lord with ointment and wiped his feet with her hair. The sisters sent this message to Jesus, 'Lord, the man you love is ill.' On receiving the message, Jesus said, 'This sickness will not end in death, but it is for God's glory so that through it the Son of God may be glorified.' Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, yet when he heard that he was ill he stayed where he was for two more days before saying to the disciples, 'Let us go back to Judea.'

Prayer

Your spirit is calm, Jesus. Your mind is quiet. Invite me into the oasis of peace that you inhabit. I want to be with you there.

I long for your assurance. You did not rush off to your friend’s side at word of his illness. That could mark you as cold. But that is not what I see.

I see self-possession and certainty. I see deep interior knowledge of what is and what will be. Your soul is a great well filled with this knowing, a liquid assurance that caresses every corner leaving no empty pockets of nagging anxiety.

So you wait, knowing death will not finally deface your friend. You wait, quietly certain that the Loving One will be glorified in you, through the only thing that can glorify the Loving One--an act of astounding love.

That is you assurance, my Friend. You abide so close to the heart of the Loving Mystery that you know that the end is always glory. The end is the revelation of the Love who abides and always will.

Such is the secret of your composure. So let us live so near to your heart that we, too, may know and dwell in your peace.

Pr. David L. Miller