Today’s text
1 John 3:2
My dear friends, we are already God's children, but what we shall be in the future has not yet been revealed. We are well aware that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he really is.
Reflection
Let me see you this day, Jesus. Savoring the sight of your love and beauty, I become as you are.
The sight of you invites us into the inner reality of your life where you are of one mind and heart with the Loving Mystery whom no one has ever seen.
Seeing you is a transformation through which we pass from one state of being to another.
In you, we glimpse the glory of our true humanity, the fullness of what the human soul was created to be. The worry and flurry, the doubt and despair that grips us was never to be our destiny.
But it is our condition in the state of sin. Sin is not this or that moral wrongdoing but a state of the soul’s abiding in which we dwell outside the marvelous awareness that we are always one with the Infinite Source of all life and love.
Our lives are an expression of the divine presence. Our souls are open at the bottom so that the fullness of God might rush in like a river, filling us, so that the substance of our soul and the substance of God’s soul is the same.
But we-- I--close our souls so that all that God is cannot flow into all that we are. We pull away, separating ourselves, failing to return each day to the places of filling, the doors and windows through which divine substance flows, washing away our fears and making us fully human, giving us the laughter of free souls who know the secret of Eternity in their flesh and bone.
But you, Jesus, never closed your heart from the divine heart. This is who and how you were in the world. Your soul remained ever open and flowing with the love that is the substance of the Eternal One.
This is what we shall be and what we become when we truly see and know you. We see a truly human being, and we see the wonder of God, all at once.
In seeing, our souls open up. And the trickle of divine life in us becomes a rivulet, then a brook, then a stream, then a deep river, and amid joy and freedom, we become as you are.
So whatever else I see today. Let me see you.
Pr. David L. Miller
http://prayingthemystery.blogspot.com/
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Thursday, April 19, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 3:1
You must see what great love the Father has lavished on us by letting us be called God's children -- which is what we are! The reason why the world does not acknowledge us is that it did not acknowledge him.
Reflection
Do I want to be known, or is it too frightening? For too long I have hidden that which I am. For decades I have been afraid to reveal this inner heart where I am filled and overwhelmed by your great divine heart.
I hide the hunger and the struggle to know the fullness of Love you are, to live beyond every anxiety, loving with the love you are.
I hide my heart, waiting for moments when I know the person in the other chair, the people to whom I am speaking might accept me or have a glimmer of understanding of what moves me.
I do not fear misunderstanding so much as dismissal and rejection. I want to be taken seriously, but what is taken most seriously in this world is that which can be counted: money, the score of recent games, concrete things that seem real because they can be seen and handled and make a practical difference in the nuts and bolts of daily existence.
But what of this inner awareness of grace and love; what of the hunger to know oneself resting in Love Unlimited; what of the experience of abiding … of feeling one’s heart enveloped in that Eternal Mystery, the Uncreated Love you intuitively know is your Source, your Home, your sweetest and truest desire?
What of the fulfillment and joy you find in that inner space where nothing separates your heart and that great Mysterious Heart? How does one speak of this reality, which is the most important truth of your and all life? It cannot be described except in vague, vaporous terms that appear to have no concrete reference the rest of the world understands?
Is it possible to describe such truth without sounding, well, like a flake?
For it sounds flaky even in the ears of the conventionally religious for whom God is something ‘out there’ to believe in, not this wind of Love that blows everywhere, even through the cobwebs of your own soul.
The world cannot acknowledge the wonder of Love Unlimited because it did not see and touch, feel and know Love Incarnate, the wonder of the mind of God in human form, in you, my brother, Jesus.
Did you fear their rejection and failure to see? It is hard to imagine that, yet there were moments at the end of your life when you prayed to be delivered from the suffering wrought by those who neither understood nor cared to do so.
Still, you went forward, knowing what you knew, being the soul you are, living from the depths of the Loving Mystery who filled you, and they destroyed you … or tried.
I have not been this brave, or should I say this filled with the One who is Love so that others’ opinions and actions no longer mattered?
But there are moments when this is true. There are moments when nothing else matters but knowing the One who is Love Unbounded--knowing that, like you, I am beloved of God from all eternity.
May I know such moments today and be the soul you call me to be, beyond every fear that hems in my heart.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 3:1
You must see what great love the Father has lavished on us by letting us be called God's children -- which is what we are! The reason why the world does not acknowledge us is that it did not acknowledge him.
Reflection
Do I want to be known, or is it too frightening? For too long I have hidden that which I am. For decades I have been afraid to reveal this inner heart where I am filled and overwhelmed by your great divine heart.
I hide the hunger and the struggle to know the fullness of Love you are, to live beyond every anxiety, loving with the love you are.
I hide my heart, waiting for moments when I know the person in the other chair, the people to whom I am speaking might accept me or have a glimmer of understanding of what moves me.
I do not fear misunderstanding so much as dismissal and rejection. I want to be taken seriously, but what is taken most seriously in this world is that which can be counted: money, the score of recent games, concrete things that seem real because they can be seen and handled and make a practical difference in the nuts and bolts of daily existence.
But what of this inner awareness of grace and love; what of the hunger to know oneself resting in Love Unlimited; what of the experience of abiding … of feeling one’s heart enveloped in that Eternal Mystery, the Uncreated Love you intuitively know is your Source, your Home, your sweetest and truest desire?
What of the fulfillment and joy you find in that inner space where nothing separates your heart and that great Mysterious Heart? How does one speak of this reality, which is the most important truth of your and all life? It cannot be described except in vague, vaporous terms that appear to have no concrete reference the rest of the world understands?
Is it possible to describe such truth without sounding, well, like a flake?
For it sounds flaky even in the ears of the conventionally religious for whom God is something ‘out there’ to believe in, not this wind of Love that blows everywhere, even through the cobwebs of your own soul.
The world cannot acknowledge the wonder of Love Unlimited because it did not see and touch, feel and know Love Incarnate, the wonder of the mind of God in human form, in you, my brother, Jesus.
Did you fear their rejection and failure to see? It is hard to imagine that, yet there were moments at the end of your life when you prayed to be delivered from the suffering wrought by those who neither understood nor cared to do so.
Still, you went forward, knowing what you knew, being the soul you are, living from the depths of the Loving Mystery who filled you, and they destroyed you … or tried.
I have not been this brave, or should I say this filled with the One who is Love so that others’ opinions and actions no longer mattered?
But there are moments when this is true. There are moments when nothing else matters but knowing the One who is Love Unbounded--knowing that, like you, I am beloved of God from all eternity.
May I know such moments today and be the soul you call me to be, beyond every fear that hems in my heart.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 3:1
You must see what great love the Father has lavished on us by letting us be called God's children -- which is what we are! The reason why the world does not acknowledge us is that it did not acknowledge him.
Reflection
Beloved, the word rolls from my lips. I have no better word for the fullness of my heart when I know myself in you, Holy One.
A fullness comes into me, allowing no room for anything else but the awareness of love, of you who are love. Everything else goes away, and every thought, if any occur, is bathed in the love which you are. I see all that is as beloved, loved beyond all measure.
These are moments of truly knowing you, Blessed Mystery. Knowing the love in which you hold me and everything, I know you, the life you are. I share immediate, intimate communion in the love that is the substance of your Being.
And I am happy … and free, so free at heart.
But there is something else, a deep internal ‘must’ appears when my heart is full, and I know that I am your beloved.
The fullness of love that fills me must be shared so that all I see and touch might be filled with awareness that they, too, are beloved, embraced by the mystery of your life.
This ‘must’ is not a burden. It is not an external law that works against my nature. Filled with the Love you, this becomes my nature, even as it is yours eternally.
You must love for you are Love. Your love cannot be contained. It must spill out in ultimate and constant generosity.
In this, I know you, Holy One. You are Love Uncontainable. The substance of your life is this love that pours out endlessly, seeking to fill all that is, a love that finds me in my wayward wandering.
The whole world is your sacrament, Loving Mystery, the means of your expression. I never know when or what will again fill me with the Love you are. I only know that you will.
Last Sunday, I held precious new life in my arms, a little boy, Benjamin. I baptized him into the Ultimate Mystery, the Love which has no name but who comes to us as Father, Son and Spirit.
Tears formed as I lifted Benjamin from the font and marked him with the sign of the cross in holy oil: “Benjamin, beloved child of God from all eternity you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”
Having spoken the words, I held him to my face and kissed him. I loved him with the love that is in me, the Love that you are, my Lord.
I yearned for this child, wanting him to be filled with the wonder of life and the beauty of all that he is. I wanted him to know great love surrounding him all the days of his life. I wanted him to share in the resurrected life of Jesus--hoping he would always know he is beloved by you since before the birth of the worlds.
And in that moment, I knew the love you are, Holy One, for this is the very same thing you want for this little child … and for me.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 3:1
You must see what great love the Father has lavished on us by letting us be called God's children -- which is what we are! The reason why the world does not acknowledge us is that it did not acknowledge him.
Reflection
Beloved, the word rolls from my lips. I have no better word for the fullness of my heart when I know myself in you, Holy One.
A fullness comes into me, allowing no room for anything else but the awareness of love, of you who are love. Everything else goes away, and every thought, if any occur, is bathed in the love which you are. I see all that is as beloved, loved beyond all measure.
These are moments of truly knowing you, Blessed Mystery. Knowing the love in which you hold me and everything, I know you, the life you are. I share immediate, intimate communion in the love that is the substance of your Being.
And I am happy … and free, so free at heart.
But there is something else, a deep internal ‘must’ appears when my heart is full, and I know that I am your beloved.
The fullness of love that fills me must be shared so that all I see and touch might be filled with awareness that they, too, are beloved, embraced by the mystery of your life.
This ‘must’ is not a burden. It is not an external law that works against my nature. Filled with the Love you, this becomes my nature, even as it is yours eternally.
You must love for you are Love. Your love cannot be contained. It must spill out in ultimate and constant generosity.
In this, I know you, Holy One. You are Love Uncontainable. The substance of your life is this love that pours out endlessly, seeking to fill all that is, a love that finds me in my wayward wandering.
The whole world is your sacrament, Loving Mystery, the means of your expression. I never know when or what will again fill me with the Love you are. I only know that you will.
Last Sunday, I held precious new life in my arms, a little boy, Benjamin. I baptized him into the Ultimate Mystery, the Love which has no name but who comes to us as Father, Son and Spirit.
Tears formed as I lifted Benjamin from the font and marked him with the sign of the cross in holy oil: “Benjamin, beloved child of God from all eternity you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”
Having spoken the words, I held him to my face and kissed him. I loved him with the love that is in me, the Love that you are, my Lord.
I yearned for this child, wanting him to be filled with the wonder of life and the beauty of all that he is. I wanted him to know great love surrounding him all the days of his life. I wanted him to share in the resurrected life of Jesus--hoping he would always know he is beloved by you since before the birth of the worlds.
And in that moment, I knew the love you are, Holy One, for this is the very same thing you want for this little child … and for me.
Pr. David L. Miller
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 1:4-5
Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing this to you so that our joy may be complete. This is what we have heard from him and are declaring to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in him at all.
Reflection
Each morning I pull back the corner of the drapes in the bedroom and look east, into the coming day. I want to see the pale blue of clear days just before the sun rises above the trees.
I don’t always get what I want. Some mornings promise only gray skies. That’s alright, but my heart is brighter on days when the air is clear and the sky transparent, eagerly waiting for the sun to fill the Earth with light.
And to fill me.
I, too, am filled with light on such mornings, and I know what it is to be light, to know the light of God far beyond the promising light of morning.
You are light, Holy One. I know your light as interior experience, an intuition not only on bright but gray days as well.
But this day is bright, as are all days when I know you as internal brightness, the joyful lilt of heart that is ready to welcome each face the day brings, receiving all that comes with a gentle and open spirit beyond all defensiveness and fear.
Filled with light and joy, knowing not an iota of anxiety, I … I love. Love flows freely because my heart is filled with the light you are. In this state, I begin to see as you see, to understand as you understand, to love as you love.
I sense how you see me and all that is. You hold us in loving joy, in this appreciative delight that fills me. I experience a lightness of being, lightness of soul, and all that is shines in its created beauty.
My eye and heart is open and eager not to grasp the day and claim it as my own, but to gently receive it, appreciating each moment as a holy gift.
I am free from every need to be something, prove something or do something other than to bask in the light that fills me--and to know the joy of the One who is light.
You are light, Holy One, and there is no darkness in you. Flood my heart with light all this day that I may continue to taste the joy that is in you.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 1:4-5
Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing this to you so that our joy may be complete. This is what we have heard from him and are declaring to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in him at all.
Reflection
Each morning I pull back the corner of the drapes in the bedroom and look east, into the coming day. I want to see the pale blue of clear days just before the sun rises above the trees.
I don’t always get what I want. Some mornings promise only gray skies. That’s alright, but my heart is brighter on days when the air is clear and the sky transparent, eagerly waiting for the sun to fill the Earth with light.
And to fill me.
I, too, am filled with light on such mornings, and I know what it is to be light, to know the light of God far beyond the promising light of morning.
You are light, Holy One. I know your light as interior experience, an intuition not only on bright but gray days as well.
But this day is bright, as are all days when I know you as internal brightness, the joyful lilt of heart that is ready to welcome each face the day brings, receiving all that comes with a gentle and open spirit beyond all defensiveness and fear.
Filled with light and joy, knowing not an iota of anxiety, I … I love. Love flows freely because my heart is filled with the light you are. In this state, I begin to see as you see, to understand as you understand, to love as you love.
I sense how you see me and all that is. You hold us in loving joy, in this appreciative delight that fills me. I experience a lightness of being, lightness of soul, and all that is shines in its created beauty.
My eye and heart is open and eager not to grasp the day and claim it as my own, but to gently receive it, appreciating each moment as a holy gift.
I am free from every need to be something, prove something or do something other than to bask in the light that fills me--and to know the joy of the One who is light.
You are light, Holy One, and there is no darkness in you. Flood my heart with light all this day that I may continue to taste the joy that is in you.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 1:1-4
Something which has existed since the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our own eyes, which we have watched and touched with our own hands, the Word of life -- this is our theme. That life was made visible; we saw it and are giving our testimony, declaring to you the eternal life, which was present to the Father and has been revealed to us. We are declaring to you what we have seen and heard, so that you too may share our life. Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing this to you so that our joy may be complete.
Reflection
The place of joy is not a place but a movement, a flow, ever changing and always new. Joy is not a point of arrival but a way of being and living, the way of sharing life and emotion, experience and wisdom.
Joy happens when you are caught in … or surrender to the flow of love and life that moves from the Infinite Source to the Son, Jesus, who is the gracious face of the Eternal Mystery who cannot be seen or touched or known.
Love and life flows from the Father, the Source, the Eternal Mystery, to the Son … and onto us. Jesus shares intimate fellowship with the Father whose being flows into him … and onto us as we live in communion with him and all those who enjoy communion with him.
The result is joy. It cannot be otherwise. In the communion of receiving and sharing the love and life of our Source, we are at home, a home that is not a place but a way of being.
The way is receiving, again and again. No, constantly, each day allowing the flow of love from the Father wash over us and move us however and in whatever direction it may take us, nudge us.
The way of joy is to flow with the current of life and love from God, which means not grasping or holding fast to the life we have received or to whom we think we are.
We hold our lives as in an open hand, allowing what is there, what is in us and who we are to flow onto others that the life that is in us and the love we know is a current coursing from us to others.
Just so, we are part of the river, joined in the common current of love and life that emerges from the Source, the Father, the Infinite Mystery, the Eternal One.
Joy is being, knowing and feeling oneself in such shared fellowship where who and what we are is shared, flowing to others even as their wisdom, struggle and grace, their pains and joys flow from them to us and others in this stream of life.
Our lives are not a possession to be grasped tightly in fearful hands. Grasping brings more fear; opening heart and mind to receive and share is the way of joy through which the river grows wide and deep.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 1:1-4
Something which has existed since the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our own eyes, which we have watched and touched with our own hands, the Word of life -- this is our theme. That life was made visible; we saw it and are giving our testimony, declaring to you the eternal life, which was present to the Father and has been revealed to us. We are declaring to you what we have seen and heard, so that you too may share our life. Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing this to you so that our joy may be complete.
Reflection
The place of joy is not a place but a movement, a flow, ever changing and always new. Joy is not a point of arrival but a way of being and living, the way of sharing life and emotion, experience and wisdom.
Joy happens when you are caught in … or surrender to the flow of love and life that moves from the Infinite Source to the Son, Jesus, who is the gracious face of the Eternal Mystery who cannot be seen or touched or known.
Love and life flows from the Father, the Source, the Eternal Mystery, to the Son … and onto us. Jesus shares intimate fellowship with the Father whose being flows into him … and onto us as we live in communion with him and all those who enjoy communion with him.
The result is joy. It cannot be otherwise. In the communion of receiving and sharing the love and life of our Source, we are at home, a home that is not a place but a way of being.
The way is receiving, again and again. No, constantly, each day allowing the flow of love from the Father wash over us and move us however and in whatever direction it may take us, nudge us.
The way of joy is to flow with the current of life and love from God, which means not grasping or holding fast to the life we have received or to whom we think we are.
We hold our lives as in an open hand, allowing what is there, what is in us and who we are to flow onto others that the life that is in us and the love we know is a current coursing from us to others.
Just so, we are part of the river, joined in the common current of love and life that emerges from the Source, the Father, the Infinite Mystery, the Eternal One.
Joy is being, knowing and feeling oneself in such shared fellowship where who and what we are is shared, flowing to others even as their wisdom, struggle and grace, their pains and joys flow from them to us and others in this stream of life.
Our lives are not a possession to be grasped tightly in fearful hands. Grasping brings more fear; opening heart and mind to receive and share is the way of joy through which the river grows wide and deep.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Today’s text
1 John 1:1-3
Something which has existed since the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our own eyes, which we have watched and touched with our own hands, the Word of life -- this is our theme. That life was made visible; we saw it and are giving our testimony, declaring to you the eternal life, which was present to the Father and has been revealed to us. We are declaring to you what we have seen and heard, so that you too may share our life. Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.
Reflection
I envy those who saw and knew Jesus in the first generations of the church.
I don’t want to live in that more primitive time. I like our modern comforts. But I would have been deeply moved to sit at the feet of people who actually knew Jesus, touched him and felt what it was l like to be near him.
Even at this distance, I imagine the amazement in their faces and the glow in their eyes at the wonder they felt. I see and hear as they struggle for words to speak what they saw and felt and knew.
And I see myself in rapt attention, waiting for their words and presence to carry me away into the Eternal Presence where the soul tingles with joy in the awareness of being in God, inside the eternal and all-loving.
I can imagine and feel this only because I have sat at the feet of those whose bearing and words conveyed the presence of that which was from the beginning. I have known those who lived in such close communion with God, the Father, and Jesus, his son, so that eternity was in them, visible and touchable, touching me.
Their presence bore the Presence of the unseen God. Their faces shared the light that filled the face of Jesus. They knew what it was to share wordless communion with the Holy Presence, and their presence shared the light and warmth of the Holy Presence of those who were near.
We share and speak what have seen and known, what we have touched and what has touched us.
I need not return to the first century to know the hearts who knew Jesus alive and risen. I need only be with those who live in communion with him, to hear their words and listen to what is in their hearts.
Time is no obstacle to seeing and knowing him. He is as near as the light in the eyes of those who love him, as close as those who abide in the mystery of eternal love.
Pr. David L. Miller
1 John 1:1-3
Something which has existed since the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our own eyes, which we have watched and touched with our own hands, the Word of life -- this is our theme. That life was made visible; we saw it and are giving our testimony, declaring to you the eternal life, which was present to the Father and has been revealed to us. We are declaring to you what we have seen and heard, so that you too may share our life. Our life is shared with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.
Reflection
I envy those who saw and knew Jesus in the first generations of the church.
I don’t want to live in that more primitive time. I like our modern comforts. But I would have been deeply moved to sit at the feet of people who actually knew Jesus, touched him and felt what it was l like to be near him.
Even at this distance, I imagine the amazement in their faces and the glow in their eyes at the wonder they felt. I see and hear as they struggle for words to speak what they saw and felt and knew.
And I see myself in rapt attention, waiting for their words and presence to carry me away into the Eternal Presence where the soul tingles with joy in the awareness of being in God, inside the eternal and all-loving.
I can imagine and feel this only because I have sat at the feet of those whose bearing and words conveyed the presence of that which was from the beginning. I have known those who lived in such close communion with God, the Father, and Jesus, his son, so that eternity was in them, visible and touchable, touching me.
Their presence bore the Presence of the unseen God. Their faces shared the light that filled the face of Jesus. They knew what it was to share wordless communion with the Holy Presence, and their presence shared the light and warmth of the Holy Presence of those who were near.
We share and speak what have seen and known, what we have touched and what has touched us.
I need not return to the first century to know the hearts who knew Jesus alive and risen. I need only be with those who live in communion with him, to hear their words and listen to what is in their hearts.
Time is no obstacle to seeing and knowing him. He is as near as the light in the eyes of those who love him, as close as those who abide in the mystery of eternal love.
Pr. David L. Miller
Saturday, April 07, 2012
April 8, 2012
Today's text
Mark 16:1-8
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' But when they looked they saw that the stone -- which was very big -- had already been rolled back. On entering the tomb they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right-hand side, and they were struck with amazement. But he said to them, 'There is no need to be so amazed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he has risen, he is not here. See, here is the place where they laid him. But you must go and tell his disciples and Peter, "He is going ahead of you to Galilee; that is where you will see him, just as he told you." ' And the women came out and ran away from the tomb because they were frightened out of their wits; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
Reflection
There are some people you just love, and I love these people, these three, who walk to Jesus tomb.
I love them because they look so much like other faces I have known, faces I have known around the world; faces I’ve laughed and cried with, faces I have known and loved, right here … in this place.
I have seen these faces tracked with tears, faces that know the pains of living and loving and laying to rest someone they loved more than they thought.
The faces of the three who come to Jesus tomb are like this, and I love them for the love I see in them.
They come to the place of death to perform an act of love, to anoint their tortured, lifeless friend, Jesus, a final blessing for one who loved them completely, totally, despite their confusion, doubt, betrayal and failure to understand or be of much help to him.
I want the same thing for them that I want for every face I meet in the communion line each week. I want this same thing for every person I have seen standing at the foot of a grave, and for every soul who enters my office space bearing the wounds and weight life lays on human beings.
I want the stone that crushes them to be moved away. But who will roll away the stone?
Who will roll away the stone that weighs our souls and entombs our hearts? I need someone, something to roll away the stone that weighs me down, that entombs my heart.
For I am like you. I want to live.
II
So often, I don’t.
I am held down by the stone that traps me in my tomb. It is failure, failure to be the person I am, failure to share the love I feel, the goodness I know in myself and others. There is fear that life is passing me by, that I have failed to live because I have been too afraid … to share the love I feel from the living Christ, afraid of rejection or of being dismissed, devalued and unaccepted.
There are other stones that trap you in the place of death, where joy does not come.
Our stones are the weight of the past and the fear of the future, the wounds and regrets we bear that won’t let us go. Our stones are the pains of the present and anxieties about tomorrow that weigh so heavily we can’t breathe deeply and feel freedom and peace, confidence and joy.
You can name the stones that entomb you: Deaths you continue to grieve; disappointments, losses and failures that refuse to release their grip; fears about growing old and sick; heart wounds inflicted by those who may not have a clue that their words stick to us like glue. Our stones are the hard work of caring for loved ones and work that wears us down and erodes our joy; then there is the doubt that God is real or good, or that God will come to us when we hurt and need.
Who will roll away the stone? It’s the Easter question. Often, our most honest prayer is, “Good Lord, move that stone.”
III
Let me tell you why I am here, why I am a pastor and why I bother to struggle to talk about things I will never understand.
I have met a power that moves stones, a power that is not force but love. I have seen it, felt it and been set free by it.
I hunger for it because I need that love to come and release me from my tomb again and again lest my heart grow weary and joyless.
I find this love exactly where the messenger at the tomb says it will be found, in Galilee.
Don’t look for Jesus in a tomb, the messenger says, and don’t be so afraid and confused. There is no need. Go to Galilee. There you will see him, feel him, know him. There you will meet the Jesus who lives and moves stones away that you may live.
Galilee was home for Jesus’ friends, the place of their normal life and work. There they … you … will see him.
Open your eyes; open your heart that you may see him where he is … in the places you live.
He will meet you in a love that is new every morning, whispering in your soul that your hunger for the fullness of life and joy is not an illusion but the gift the risen Jesus will give you each day.
The love of God that filled Jesus is risen and released into creation. He flows into relationships and seeps into the structures and fabric of all reality. The love that he is labors in the depths of matter and in every circumstance of our lives.
We live in the environment of Jesus risen presence. The risen One surrounds us like an ocean of love and grace, working in hidden and unseen ways amid the daily and the drab, the demands and destruction.
He is there in seemingly forsaken moments of pain and loss when we don’t see or feel him, when all we have is the promise that sooner or later we will see and know him again in our Galilee.
He will meet us, sometimes when we least expect.
But we will know him … because our hearts will be lifted by love and the stones that hold us down will be rolled away … and we will know what it is to feel alive and free.
I meet my risen Lord in the words, the tears, the blessing, the hope I see in you.
For you, the people of this congregation, are my Galilee, the place of common life where I have been told to go looking for Jesus.
If you want to see Jesus, don’t run away and pretend you can be Christian all by yourself. Hang out with people who love him, who want to feel him, who are moved by the great love that is in him.
Listen to them, pray with them, play with them, drink and laugh with them, share your hopes and hurts with them. Sooner or later you will look into their eyes and see the Love that made the stars staring back at you.
You will know the Love that kills death and moves stones from heavy hearts.
And you will know that Jesus is risen … and is out there ahead of you ... in Galilee.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 16:1-8
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' But when they looked they saw that the stone -- which was very big -- had already been rolled back. On entering the tomb they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right-hand side, and they were struck with amazement. But he said to them, 'There is no need to be so amazed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he has risen, he is not here. See, here is the place where they laid him. But you must go and tell his disciples and Peter, "He is going ahead of you to Galilee; that is where you will see him, just as he told you." ' And the women came out and ran away from the tomb because they were frightened out of their wits; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
Reflection
There are some people you just love, and I love these people, these three, who walk to Jesus tomb.
I love them because they look so much like other faces I have known, faces I have known around the world; faces I’ve laughed and cried with, faces I have known and loved, right here … in this place.
I have seen these faces tracked with tears, faces that know the pains of living and loving and laying to rest someone they loved more than they thought.
The faces of the three who come to Jesus tomb are like this, and I love them for the love I see in them.
They come to the place of death to perform an act of love, to anoint their tortured, lifeless friend, Jesus, a final blessing for one who loved them completely, totally, despite their confusion, doubt, betrayal and failure to understand or be of much help to him.
I want the same thing for them that I want for every face I meet in the communion line each week. I want this same thing for every person I have seen standing at the foot of a grave, and for every soul who enters my office space bearing the wounds and weight life lays on human beings.
I want the stone that crushes them to be moved away. But who will roll away the stone?
Who will roll away the stone that weighs our souls and entombs our hearts? I need someone, something to roll away the stone that weighs me down, that entombs my heart.
For I am like you. I want to live.
II
So often, I don’t.
I am held down by the stone that traps me in my tomb. It is failure, failure to be the person I am, failure to share the love I feel, the goodness I know in myself and others. There is fear that life is passing me by, that I have failed to live because I have been too afraid … to share the love I feel from the living Christ, afraid of rejection or of being dismissed, devalued and unaccepted.
There are other stones that trap you in the place of death, where joy does not come.
Our stones are the weight of the past and the fear of the future, the wounds and regrets we bear that won’t let us go. Our stones are the pains of the present and anxieties about tomorrow that weigh so heavily we can’t breathe deeply and feel freedom and peace, confidence and joy.
You can name the stones that entomb you: Deaths you continue to grieve; disappointments, losses and failures that refuse to release their grip; fears about growing old and sick; heart wounds inflicted by those who may not have a clue that their words stick to us like glue. Our stones are the hard work of caring for loved ones and work that wears us down and erodes our joy; then there is the doubt that God is real or good, or that God will come to us when we hurt and need.
Who will roll away the stone? It’s the Easter question. Often, our most honest prayer is, “Good Lord, move that stone.”
III
Let me tell you why I am here, why I am a pastor and why I bother to struggle to talk about things I will never understand.
I have met a power that moves stones, a power that is not force but love. I have seen it, felt it and been set free by it.
I hunger for it because I need that love to come and release me from my tomb again and again lest my heart grow weary and joyless.
I find this love exactly where the messenger at the tomb says it will be found, in Galilee.
Don’t look for Jesus in a tomb, the messenger says, and don’t be so afraid and confused. There is no need. Go to Galilee. There you will see him, feel him, know him. There you will meet the Jesus who lives and moves stones away that you may live.
Galilee was home for Jesus’ friends, the place of their normal life and work. There they … you … will see him.
Open your eyes; open your heart that you may see him where he is … in the places you live.
He will meet you in a love that is new every morning, whispering in your soul that your hunger for the fullness of life and joy is not an illusion but the gift the risen Jesus will give you each day.
The love of God that filled Jesus is risen and released into creation. He flows into relationships and seeps into the structures and fabric of all reality. The love that he is labors in the depths of matter and in every circumstance of our lives.
We live in the environment of Jesus risen presence. The risen One surrounds us like an ocean of love and grace, working in hidden and unseen ways amid the daily and the drab, the demands and destruction.
He is there in seemingly forsaken moments of pain and loss when we don’t see or feel him, when all we have is the promise that sooner or later we will see and know him again in our Galilee.
He will meet us, sometimes when we least expect.
But we will know him … because our hearts will be lifted by love and the stones that hold us down will be rolled away … and we will know what it is to feel alive and free.
I meet my risen Lord in the words, the tears, the blessing, the hope I see in you.
For you, the people of this congregation, are my Galilee, the place of common life where I have been told to go looking for Jesus.
If you want to see Jesus, don’t run away and pretend you can be Christian all by yourself. Hang out with people who love him, who want to feel him, who are moved by the great love that is in him.
Listen to them, pray with them, play with them, drink and laugh with them, share your hopes and hurts with them. Sooner or later you will look into their eyes and see the Love that made the stars staring back at you.
You will know the Love that kills death and moves stones from heavy hearts.
And you will know that Jesus is risen … and is out there ahead of you ... in Galilee.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, April 05, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 16:1-8
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' But when they looked they saw that the stone -- which was very big -- had already been rolled back. On entering the tomb they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right-hand side, and they were struck with amazement. But he said to them, 'There is no need to be so amazed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he has risen, he is not here. See, here is the place where they laid him. But you must go and tell his disciples and Peter, "He is going ahead of you to Galilee; that is where you will see him, just as he told you." ' And the women came out and ran away from the tomb because they were frightened out of their wits; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
Reflection
When is an ending not an ending? When it is the beginning. This is a beginning, an invitation to forever.
You do not appear in this story Jesus. You are missing in action. The Resurrection story is all about you, but you are not there.
The story ends with fearful people, who don’t know what is happening, being told to go find you, go where you may be found and known. Galilee is the name of the place.
It is the place where they began, where they first met you. You live there, and there they will know who you are, risen and alive, your risen nearness loving them and moving stones away from their lives that they, too, may live.
I want to live. I want the stone rolled away, the stone that holds me down, entombing my heart.
It’s name is failure, failure to be the soul you made me to be, failure to share the beauty, love and life that I can be at my very best but so seldom am, failure to connect with other hearts so that the goodness in them communes with the goodness in me, failure to find acceptance and connection with human hearts.
That’s my stone, and sometimes it is so heavy I can barely think and sleep flees.
There are other stones that trap human souls in the place of death, where joy does not come. Name your own. I need not try. You know them.
Our stones are the weight of the past and the fear of the future, the wounds and regrets we bear from long ago and that won’t let us go that we can breathe and feel freedom and peace, confidence and joy. They are the anxieties about the future that prevent us from living fully in the present moment.
Who will roll away the stone? What will roll away the stone? Only you, Lord, only the love that cannot be help captive, the love that is stronger than death.
And where do we find that? Only where you are, only where you live. And where is that? Galilee.
The messengers of the Resurrection send the fearful and trembling, the curious and the confused friends of Jesus back to Galilee, to the places where they were born, where they worked and sweated, lived and loved, fought and struggled to know joy.
There, in that common place, you live, Jesus. There, we know you as Lord of life whose love comes to us and removes the stones that entomb our hearts, there we meet you in the power and presence of a risen love that is new every morning and seeks us, whispering in our enslaved souls that our hunger for freedom, for the fullness of life and joy is not an illusion, not a fantasy but is the gift the risen Lord will give us … if we will go where he is, where he lives.
Go to Galilee, the places of our common lives. He lives there. You will see him.
The women flee the tomb and went to Jesus’ friends. They tell what they have seen. Then, the group goes into Galilee with eyes open and aching to see and be touched by a love that won’t quit, a love that moves stones away from human hearts and situations.
They go to meet Jesus. So must we, if we are to know the Resurrection of the One our hearts most need.
So keep your eyes open and your heart, too. For it is the heart that sees him. It is the heart’s hunger that pushes us to see Jesus living in the love that lifts human souls. It is the heart that keeps hoping and praying.
It is the heart that recognizes Jesus each time we feel the weight of stones being lifted from our heart, every time we feel ourselves being saved from sadness and brought to joy--such saving moments happen in the Galilees of our lives because Jesus is risen.
The end of the story is only the beginning of knowing and seeing him, forever.
He is Lord, and the love that is in him will fill you and all that is.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 16:1-8
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' But when they looked they saw that the stone -- which was very big -- had already been rolled back. On entering the tomb they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right-hand side, and they were struck with amazement. But he said to them, 'There is no need to be so amazed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he has risen, he is not here. See, here is the place where they laid him. But you must go and tell his disciples and Peter, "He is going ahead of you to Galilee; that is where you will see him, just as he told you." ' And the women came out and ran away from the tomb because they were frightened out of their wits; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
Reflection
When is an ending not an ending? When it is the beginning. This is a beginning, an invitation to forever.
You do not appear in this story Jesus. You are missing in action. The Resurrection story is all about you, but you are not there.
The story ends with fearful people, who don’t know what is happening, being told to go find you, go where you may be found and known. Galilee is the name of the place.
It is the place where they began, where they first met you. You live there, and there they will know who you are, risen and alive, your risen nearness loving them and moving stones away from their lives that they, too, may live.
I want to live. I want the stone rolled away, the stone that holds me down, entombing my heart.
It’s name is failure, failure to be the soul you made me to be, failure to share the beauty, love and life that I can be at my very best but so seldom am, failure to connect with other hearts so that the goodness in them communes with the goodness in me, failure to find acceptance and connection with human hearts.
That’s my stone, and sometimes it is so heavy I can barely think and sleep flees.
There are other stones that trap human souls in the place of death, where joy does not come. Name your own. I need not try. You know them.
Our stones are the weight of the past and the fear of the future, the wounds and regrets we bear from long ago and that won’t let us go that we can breathe and feel freedom and peace, confidence and joy. They are the anxieties about the future that prevent us from living fully in the present moment.
Who will roll away the stone? What will roll away the stone? Only you, Lord, only the love that cannot be help captive, the love that is stronger than death.
And where do we find that? Only where you are, only where you live. And where is that? Galilee.
The messengers of the Resurrection send the fearful and trembling, the curious and the confused friends of Jesus back to Galilee, to the places where they were born, where they worked and sweated, lived and loved, fought and struggled to know joy.
There, in that common place, you live, Jesus. There, we know you as Lord of life whose love comes to us and removes the stones that entomb our hearts, there we meet you in the power and presence of a risen love that is new every morning and seeks us, whispering in our enslaved souls that our hunger for freedom, for the fullness of life and joy is not an illusion, not a fantasy but is the gift the risen Lord will give us … if we will go where he is, where he lives.
Go to Galilee, the places of our common lives. He lives there. You will see him.
The women flee the tomb and went to Jesus’ friends. They tell what they have seen. Then, the group goes into Galilee with eyes open and aching to see and be touched by a love that won’t quit, a love that moves stones away from human hearts and situations.
They go to meet Jesus. So must we, if we are to know the Resurrection of the One our hearts most need.
So keep your eyes open and your heart, too. For it is the heart that sees him. It is the heart’s hunger that pushes us to see Jesus living in the love that lifts human souls. It is the heart that keeps hoping and praying.
It is the heart that recognizes Jesus each time we feel the weight of stones being lifted from our heart, every time we feel ourselves being saved from sadness and brought to joy--such saving moments happen in the Galilees of our lives because Jesus is risen.
The end of the story is only the beginning of knowing and seeing him, forever.
He is Lord, and the love that is in him will fill you and all that is.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 16:1-4
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' But when they looked they saw that the stone -- which was very big -- had already been rolled back.
Reflection
And then what? What do you do when the stone has been rolled away?
I imagine the women were afraid and approached with great caution. They immediately knew something was amiss. Stones don’t move themselves. Were powerful people nearby? Is it safe? Should we return home and bring reinforcements for protection?
With quiet, hesitant steps they approach the tomb. Fear has replaced their grief and love. They do not know what has happened, what is going on.
Truer words cannot be spoken. They do not know, and it is a fearful thing. The power of God has touched this place and reordered the world.
They understood the world they had inhabited. The dead are dead, and large rocks don’t get up and get out of your way. Love brings grief, and obstacles in one’s path must be overcome, overpowered, or you just have to live with them.
That’s life. The way things are.
But the stone had been moved out of the way; the obstacle to their mission removed, and the world as they knew it was changed.
A new world had dawned. Oh, it was the same old world with grief and pain, longing and loss, a world with such exquisite beauty it makes you weep for joy at the wonder of being a human soul, only to cut you to the quick within a moment.
All this remained, but the rules had changed. Death was no longer the end. The heavy stones that crush life and get in the way of living had been rolled away by a power human minds cannot grasp, a power that is much love as force.
The women did not grasp this for a long time, if they ever fully did. Maybe no one ever does in this life.
They were afraid. The order of existence had been changed, and it was not clear what had come or what was happening.
The question for them, for all, is whether they were willing to walk into that future, walk into the empty tomb and beyond it to see what the love of a death killing God might do … with them.
They did, and because they did the flame of an eternal, deathless love burns … in me.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 16:1-4
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' But when they looked they saw that the stone -- which was very big -- had already been rolled back.
Reflection
And then what? What do you do when the stone has been rolled away?
I imagine the women were afraid and approached with great caution. They immediately knew something was amiss. Stones don’t move themselves. Were powerful people nearby? Is it safe? Should we return home and bring reinforcements for protection?
With quiet, hesitant steps they approach the tomb. Fear has replaced their grief and love. They do not know what has happened, what is going on.
Truer words cannot be spoken. They do not know, and it is a fearful thing. The power of God has touched this place and reordered the world.
They understood the world they had inhabited. The dead are dead, and large rocks don’t get up and get out of your way. Love brings grief, and obstacles in one’s path must be overcome, overpowered, or you just have to live with them.
That’s life. The way things are.
But the stone had been moved out of the way; the obstacle to their mission removed, and the world as they knew it was changed.
A new world had dawned. Oh, it was the same old world with grief and pain, longing and loss, a world with such exquisite beauty it makes you weep for joy at the wonder of being a human soul, only to cut you to the quick within a moment.
All this remained, but the rules had changed. Death was no longer the end. The heavy stones that crush life and get in the way of living had been rolled away by a power human minds cannot grasp, a power that is much love as force.
The women did not grasp this for a long time, if they ever fully did. Maybe no one ever does in this life.
They were afraid. The order of existence had been changed, and it was not clear what had come or what was happening.
The question for them, for all, is whether they were willing to walk into that future, walk into the empty tomb and beyond it to see what the love of a death killing God might do … with them.
They did, and because they did the flame of an eternal, deathless love burns … in me.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 16:1-3
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?'
Reflection
Who will move the stone? This is the most human question of all and the most understandable.
What is less understandable is why the women would set out on their mission of final mercies without knowing how they could get to Jesus body. But they didn’t let that stop them, which makes them a little unusual.
It’s a wonder their question didn’t stop them in their tracks. Who will roll away the stone?
It is profoundly human to see what is wrong, to focus on the threat, the problem, the negativity--and to stop cold until a solution to the problem appears.
But they didn’t stop. They continued on. I have no idea what they expected to find or whether they believed they would arrive at the tomb and be blocked from their mission by the weight of the stone.
I can’t know their thoughts. I doubt that they believed there would be some miracle to remove the obstacle from their path. I suspect sadness filled their hearts more than any vain hope.
All I have is this verbal picture of them as they move slowly on, their hearts broken as they try to perform a final act of mercy for a brutalized, lifeless friend.
But I feel the invitation of Resurrection in their actions.
The invitation is to trust and continue, to go on, to do the deeds of mercy, recognizing that, like them, I do not know what is to come. I have no idea what wonder might appear. I can’t know what God has up his sleeve.
The Resurrection invites me to do what I can, leaving to God what I cannot do, trusting that divine power and mercy can and will do more than I imagine.
But like the women, I will never see it, never feel it, never enter the wonder of a love that cannot be stopped unless I continue forward even when great obstacles seem insurmountable.
Life holds many heavy stones. Don’t let them stop you. Continue on. You know who will move them.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 16:1-3
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?'
Reflection
Who will move the stone? This is the most human question of all and the most understandable.
What is less understandable is why the women would set out on their mission of final mercies without knowing how they could get to Jesus body. But they didn’t let that stop them, which makes them a little unusual.
It’s a wonder their question didn’t stop them in their tracks. Who will roll away the stone?
It is profoundly human to see what is wrong, to focus on the threat, the problem, the negativity--and to stop cold until a solution to the problem appears.
But they didn’t stop. They continued on. I have no idea what they expected to find or whether they believed they would arrive at the tomb and be blocked from their mission by the weight of the stone.
I can’t know their thoughts. I doubt that they believed there would be some miracle to remove the obstacle from their path. I suspect sadness filled their hearts more than any vain hope.
All I have is this verbal picture of them as they move slowly on, their hearts broken as they try to perform a final act of mercy for a brutalized, lifeless friend.
But I feel the invitation of Resurrection in their actions.
The invitation is to trust and continue, to go on, to do the deeds of mercy, recognizing that, like them, I do not know what is to come. I have no idea what wonder might appear. I can’t know what God has up his sleeve.
The Resurrection invites me to do what I can, leaving to God what I cannot do, trusting that divine power and mercy can and will do more than I imagine.
But like the women, I will never see it, never feel it, never enter the wonder of a love that cannot be stopped unless I continue forward even when great obstacles seem insurmountable.
Life holds many heavy stones. Don’t let them stop you. Continue on. You know who will move them.
Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, April 02, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 16:1
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him.
Reflection
Yes, I know; I am getting ahead of the story. Holy Week dawns with the awareness of the brutality to come.
Betrayal by friends, fear of suffering, whippings, beatings, the grotesque torture of crucifixion--the events of Jesus last week are well known. The great liturgies of the church year reflect on each one, lest we miss we what we might see and feel as we listen and watch the face of Jesus.
Each scene tells us something about ourselves, about the nature of life in this world and about the heart of God that was in Jesus.
Each one makes me squirm, as I see human treachery and weakness revealed in how he was betrayed and denied by friends--and by enemies who expediently denied their highest principles to get rid of him.
I see his struggle to pray and enter that quiet space in his soul where the Father’s loving presence filled him, only to fail to find what he needed.
I see him whipped and suffering, bleeding and screaming as nails rip his flesh. I see him lift himself on the nails, excruciating pain tears soul and body as he struggles for breath.
I see, and I want to hurry to the end. The images are too raw, the suffering too real in a world where brutalities of one sort or another continue to be wreaked upon human flesh by callous souls for whom compassion is a stranger.
I want to hurry to the place of quiet, the silence of death, where Jesus is free of torture and pain, where the gentle hands of those who loved him carry spices to anoint his limp body and lay him finally to rest.
I want to move past the brutality to the compassion of human hearts whose grace and beauty were awakened in his presence.
I am among them. I am them. These are my brothers and my sisters, the souls of hope who came alive in his presence, whose hearts took wing in his nearness, whose beauty shined in the presence of the eternal beauty that filled him.
Tears flow as I see them walking toward the tomb of Jesus. But my tears are not only of grief but of love and hope. Even amid his death, they are alive. Their hearts continue to beat.
I do not speak of their biological life, but of the inner life of love that is the Spirit of God. They are alive, and the Love that is the substance of the invisible and unimaginable God is the beating of their hearts, the breath of their lives.
You, Jesus have already given them resurrection. The love that is stronger than death is in them. It brings them to the place of death in order to love, to love you, and for this I love them so greatly, yes, for this I love you beyond any measure.
For you are the Love that does not die in this heart of mine nor in the hearts of those who love you.
I see them, Jesus, they go to the tomb. You were not there. You were already alive in them, and soon they would see you, even as I do now.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 16:1
When the Sabbath was over, Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices with which to go and anoint him.
Reflection
Yes, I know; I am getting ahead of the story. Holy Week dawns with the awareness of the brutality to come.
Betrayal by friends, fear of suffering, whippings, beatings, the grotesque torture of crucifixion--the events of Jesus last week are well known. The great liturgies of the church year reflect on each one, lest we miss we what we might see and feel as we listen and watch the face of Jesus.
Each scene tells us something about ourselves, about the nature of life in this world and about the heart of God that was in Jesus.
Each one makes me squirm, as I see human treachery and weakness revealed in how he was betrayed and denied by friends--and by enemies who expediently denied their highest principles to get rid of him.
I see his struggle to pray and enter that quiet space in his soul where the Father’s loving presence filled him, only to fail to find what he needed.
I see him whipped and suffering, bleeding and screaming as nails rip his flesh. I see him lift himself on the nails, excruciating pain tears soul and body as he struggles for breath.
I see, and I want to hurry to the end. The images are too raw, the suffering too real in a world where brutalities of one sort or another continue to be wreaked upon human flesh by callous souls for whom compassion is a stranger.
I want to hurry to the place of quiet, the silence of death, where Jesus is free of torture and pain, where the gentle hands of those who loved him carry spices to anoint his limp body and lay him finally to rest.
I want to move past the brutality to the compassion of human hearts whose grace and beauty were awakened in his presence.
I am among them. I am them. These are my brothers and my sisters, the souls of hope who came alive in his presence, whose hearts took wing in his nearness, whose beauty shined in the presence of the eternal beauty that filled him.
Tears flow as I see them walking toward the tomb of Jesus. But my tears are not only of grief but of love and hope. Even amid his death, they are alive. Their hearts continue to beat.
I do not speak of their biological life, but of the inner life of love that is the Spirit of God. They are alive, and the Love that is the substance of the invisible and unimaginable God is the beating of their hearts, the breath of their lives.
You, Jesus have already given them resurrection. The love that is stronger than death is in them. It brings them to the place of death in order to love, to love you, and for this I love them so greatly, yes, for this I love you beyond any measure.
For you are the Love that does not die in this heart of mine nor in the hearts of those who love you.
I see them, Jesus, they go to the tomb. You were not there. You were already alive in them, and soon they would see you, even as I do now.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Today’s text
Philippians 2:5-8
Make your own the mind of Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, did not count equality with God something to be grasped. But he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, becoming as human beings are; and being in every way like a human being, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.
Reflection
There is little around of the mind of Christ today, or do I fail to know how to look and see?
The mind of Christ is given-ness to the love of the God who is Love, whose will is life and whose joy is to see human souls breathe deeply, drawing in the good air of Earth that they may come fully alive to all they are and all that is.
Standing in the church garden, I stretch my arms, reaching for the sky. I feel the goodness of cramped muscles lengthening, unbinding from the clench of winter. I stretch and release the tension as my hands reach high, and suddenly mere exercise becomes prayer.
An endless blue sky is scattered with thin cirrus clouds, feathers of heaven, high, very high. A jet plies its highway across the blue, across the country, heading somewhere east; the clouds are so high I see the jet passing far beneath them.
And I laugh in awareness that I am … that I am alive … and that in this moment I am happy to see the blue and the jet and feel aging muscles rejoice as I reach for heaven’s gate, straining to touch the face of He who is the Source of this moment.
I feel the truth that my life and breath are a mysterious gift, and this moment, too, is gift, as I feel the goodness of the One who made me, breathed life into me and gave me a soul to feel this moment.
What has any of this to do with the mind of Christ, the mind of my brother Jesus, who looked at the trees and flowers, the skies and waters of the good Earth and felt much as I do now?
Perhaps only that in this moment love flows freely from my heart, as from his, love for all that is on this Earth, for all that exists across the wonder of a universe I can’t begin to comprehend.
Love flows from the goodness of straining muscles and the joy of blue skies and the smallness of speeding jets dwarfed by feathery cirrus on this gentle March day.
Love flows from awareness of the gift and wonder of life--from the knowledge that the Father of Life is love, a Love whose goal is to awaken the Love he is in us that we, too, may give ourselves for others.
Just like our brother, Jesus, who is the face of the Love who fashioned blue skies and March mornings and loves us all … to the end … and beyond.
Pr. David L. Miller
Philippians 2:5-8
Make your own the mind of Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, did not count equality with God something to be grasped. But he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, becoming as human beings are; and being in every way like a human being, he was humbler yet, even to accepting death, death on a cross.
Reflection
There is little around of the mind of Christ today, or do I fail to know how to look and see?
The mind of Christ is given-ness to the love of the God who is Love, whose will is life and whose joy is to see human souls breathe deeply, drawing in the good air of Earth that they may come fully alive to all they are and all that is.
Standing in the church garden, I stretch my arms, reaching for the sky. I feel the goodness of cramped muscles lengthening, unbinding from the clench of winter. I stretch and release the tension as my hands reach high, and suddenly mere exercise becomes prayer.
An endless blue sky is scattered with thin cirrus clouds, feathers of heaven, high, very high. A jet plies its highway across the blue, across the country, heading somewhere east; the clouds are so high I see the jet passing far beneath them.
And I laugh in awareness that I am … that I am alive … and that in this moment I am happy to see the blue and the jet and feel aging muscles rejoice as I reach for heaven’s gate, straining to touch the face of He who is the Source of this moment.
I feel the truth that my life and breath are a mysterious gift, and this moment, too, is gift, as I feel the goodness of the One who made me, breathed life into me and gave me a soul to feel this moment.
What has any of this to do with the mind of Christ, the mind of my brother Jesus, who looked at the trees and flowers, the skies and waters of the good Earth and felt much as I do now?
Perhaps only that in this moment love flows freely from my heart, as from his, love for all that is on this Earth, for all that exists across the wonder of a universe I can’t begin to comprehend.
Love flows from the goodness of straining muscles and the joy of blue skies and the smallness of speeding jets dwarfed by feathery cirrus on this gentle March day.
Love flows from awareness of the gift and wonder of life--from the knowledge that the Father of Life is love, a Love whose goal is to awaken the Love he is in us that we, too, may give ourselves for others.
Just like our brother, Jesus, who is the face of the Love who fashioned blue skies and March mornings and loves us all … to the end … and beyond.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 11:4-10
They went off and found a colt tethered near a door in the open street. As they untied it, some men standing there said, 'What are you doing, untying that colt?' They gave the answer Jesus had told them, and the men let them go. Then they took the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on its back, and he mounted it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others greenery which they had cut in the fields. And those who went in front and those who followed were all shouting, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David our father! Hosanna in the highest heavens!'
Reflection
When Jesus came to Jerusalem he came to conquer, but unlike those who came before him he carried no sword or shield. He rode no warhorse, nor was he pulled in a chariot by a prancing steed.
He bore no visible sign of power or empire; no military ensigns preceded him, trumpeting his arrival.
He came not to knock down walls or destroy his opponents but to conquer the human heart, to win allegiance to a new and holy kingdom where every living thing has its place, where all that breathes is loved and treasured, where the hungry have their needs fulfilled, where the broken find relief and blessing, and the forgotten feel how treasured they are in the hearts of God and all who belong to God.
His is a kingdom of peace where the heart of God becomes human reality, where the love of God flows like a fountain through every soul and the bliss of Eden is restored, where tears are wiped from the eyes of those who grieve and death is feared no more because every heart knows the love of God is stronger than death.
He comes in humility, seeking hearts who hunger for the kingdom of God, the rule of grace, the reign of blessed peace.
“Hosanna,” the crowds cried as he approached the ancient city of Jerusalem, already occupied by Roman, forces who ruled by fear and force, brutality and murder. The word is a prayer for mercy, “Save us, we pray.”
It’s a good prayer, as relevant now as then in our angry, violent, hungry age where the needy are oft forgotten and nations still believe peace comes through superior power not through commitment to justice and compassion.
Waving palms as Jesus passes is a prayer for God’s kingdom of compassion and peace. It is an act of surrender in which we turn from the way of the warhorse and give ourselves to his love that the holy kingdom might come … and come also through us.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 11:4-10
They went off and found a colt tethered near a door in the open street. As they untied it, some men standing there said, 'What are you doing, untying that colt?' They gave the answer Jesus had told them, and the men let them go. Then they took the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on its back, and he mounted it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others greenery which they had cut in the fields. And those who went in front and those who followed were all shouting, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David our father! Hosanna in the highest heavens!'
Reflection
When Jesus came to Jerusalem he came to conquer, but unlike those who came before him he carried no sword or shield. He rode no warhorse, nor was he pulled in a chariot by a prancing steed.
He bore no visible sign of power or empire; no military ensigns preceded him, trumpeting his arrival.
He came not to knock down walls or destroy his opponents but to conquer the human heart, to win allegiance to a new and holy kingdom where every living thing has its place, where all that breathes is loved and treasured, where the hungry have their needs fulfilled, where the broken find relief and blessing, and the forgotten feel how treasured they are in the hearts of God and all who belong to God.
His is a kingdom of peace where the heart of God becomes human reality, where the love of God flows like a fountain through every soul and the bliss of Eden is restored, where tears are wiped from the eyes of those who grieve and death is feared no more because every heart knows the love of God is stronger than death.
He comes in humility, seeking hearts who hunger for the kingdom of God, the rule of grace, the reign of blessed peace.
“Hosanna,” the crowds cried as he approached the ancient city of Jerusalem, already occupied by Roman, forces who ruled by fear and force, brutality and murder. The word is a prayer for mercy, “Save us, we pray.”
It’s a good prayer, as relevant now as then in our angry, violent, hungry age where the needy are oft forgotten and nations still believe peace comes through superior power not through commitment to justice and compassion.
Waving palms as Jesus passes is a prayer for God’s kingdom of compassion and peace. It is an act of surrender in which we turn from the way of the warhorse and give ourselves to his love that the holy kingdom might come … and come also through us.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 11:7-10
Then they took the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on its back, and he mounted it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others greenery which they had cut in the fields. And those who went in front and those who followed were all shouting, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David our father! Hosanna in the highest heavens!'
Reflection
Those who shouted praise to God along the road had seen others ride into Jerusalem. Roman legions had marched into the city to take control, some riding snorting steeds, swords clattering as their horses climbed the rough road.
No one shouted praise to God for them. They came to occupy and pacify the population for the glory and enrichment of Rome. Power was their game, fear and force their way.
Then you come, Jesus, not on a snorting steed but a gentle young animal, and people throw their cloaks on the road and wave green branches from the trees, a symbol of peace, life and growth.
I remember the ancient story of Noah. Surviving the flood on his boat, he sends out a dove which returns with an olive branch, a sign of peace. The struggle with death had passed. The unruly waters would soon recede to their proper boundaries, and life could begin once more. A new start, a fresh beginning.
Ancient prophets, too, spoke of a king who would come humbly, mounted on a gentle beast instead of a war horse, to bring peace to a world accustomed to war and fear.
But our souls never become totally accustomed to fear and war. You created us in love to share the goodness of you who are the Source of all good, to share this good earth and whatever sweetness of grace we know in this life.
We are created for communion in such joy, and we hunger for deliverance from whatever powers, fears and bondage prevent our entry into the life for which our hearts long.
This is ancient, not new. The souls who watched you enter the city on a gentle beast felt it just as much as we.
Perhaps they looked at you riding into town and remembered the old prophesies and perhaps even old Noah.
But they didn’t need to remember any of this to be moved to joy and praise. They needed only to look at you and listen to their hearts to know that the communion of peace for which human hearts long was right there, on the dusty road.
The world and their hearts could begin again.
Make me a person of your humble peace.
Pr. David L. Miller
Mark 11:7-10
Then they took the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on its back, and he mounted it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others greenery which they had cut in the fields. And those who went in front and those who followed were all shouting, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who is coming in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of David our father! Hosanna in the highest heavens!'
Reflection
Those who shouted praise to God along the road had seen others ride into Jerusalem. Roman legions had marched into the city to take control, some riding snorting steeds, swords clattering as their horses climbed the rough road.
No one shouted praise to God for them. They came to occupy and pacify the population for the glory and enrichment of Rome. Power was their game, fear and force their way.
Then you come, Jesus, not on a snorting steed but a gentle young animal, and people throw their cloaks on the road and wave green branches from the trees, a symbol of peace, life and growth.
I remember the ancient story of Noah. Surviving the flood on his boat, he sends out a dove which returns with an olive branch, a sign of peace. The struggle with death had passed. The unruly waters would soon recede to their proper boundaries, and life could begin once more. A new start, a fresh beginning.
Ancient prophets, too, spoke of a king who would come humbly, mounted on a gentle beast instead of a war horse, to bring peace to a world accustomed to war and fear.
But our souls never become totally accustomed to fear and war. You created us in love to share the goodness of you who are the Source of all good, to share this good earth and whatever sweetness of grace we know in this life.
We are created for communion in such joy, and we hunger for deliverance from whatever powers, fears and bondage prevent our entry into the life for which our hearts long.
This is ancient, not new. The souls who watched you enter the city on a gentle beast felt it just as much as we.
Perhaps they looked at you riding into town and remembered the old prophesies and perhaps even old Noah.
But they didn’t need to remember any of this to be moved to joy and praise. They needed only to look at you and listen to their hearts to know that the communion of peace for which human hearts long was right there, on the dusty road.
The world and their hearts could begin again.
Make me a person of your humble peace.
Pr. David L. Miller
Monday, March 26, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Today’s text
Mark 11:1-3
When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, close by the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, 'Go to the village facing you, and as you enter it you will at once find a tethered colt that no one has yet ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone says to you, "What are you doing?" say, "The Master needs it and will send it back here at once." '
Reflection
The master needs it. Today, this moment …all that I am, all on which I lay my hands … the master needs it.
I hear these words, and my heart immediately elevates with joy. Why?
The master needs it.
The master needs me, my hands and heart, the tools I use, the words I speak, the actions of my hands, the expressions of my face. The master needs them, needs me for his purpose.
I feel honored, wanted, desired. But the joy springs from the deepest, most secret part of me--that place where your soul and my soul are indivisible, where my life is really your life bubbling up into this body I call ‘me,’ giving me existence and energy.
The master needs it. With this request, this invitation, you invite me to return the life you have first given me, to let that life flow back into you who are my Source.
A circle is brought to completion. You breathe life into me, and in seeking my partnership you invite me to return that life, that breath, and when I do … you breathe more breath, life and joy into me. And I know, I just know, for what am made.
The invitation to give my life, my hands, my heart to you this day draws me into an eternal circle of giving and receiving, in which there is no beginning and no end.
But it is true: You need me to give that life I am back to you to keep the circle of giving going … on and on. This circle is the way of life, and the joy it brings is the echo of our hearts telling us what we need to know.
Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, March 23, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Today’s text
John 12:32-33
And when I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw all people to myself.' By these words he indicated the kind of death he would die.
Reflection
The Spirit draws; the devil drives. This is old wisdom among spiritual directors.
The Spirit of God draws the soul by love, coaxing the heart to its true self, its true home. The Spirit moves us from the inside, drawing us to what we most need.
The spirit of the evil one drives the heart, whipping it along with accusations and the guilt of ‘shoulds’ so that we might satisfy some judge, whether internal or external.
We carry so many ‘shoulds’ from external voices we have internalized, voices of parents, teachers, mentors, friends and often adversaries. These voices may have given kindly advice about what is good and right, popular or seemingly wise.
We hear the voices thousands of times through the decades of living, too often in unhelpful ways. Our fears of inadequacy, our guilt about what we have done or not done, and our shame about who we are--all these turns gentle advice into a mass of shoulds, shaking accusing fingers at us.
“I should …. I should … I should.” The sentence always makes me take notice, whether I hear it from someone else or when it crosses my own lips.
Often, the should looks and sounds good, something worthwhile we might do or seek.
But the motivation comes not from the depth of one’s heart, from the love that is within us seeking expression. It comes from judgments of others (or self-judgment) and is not expressive of what the Spirit seeks to love out of us.
Jesus is lifted up on the cross, and the love that filled him flows out as surely as his lifeblood. He is lifted up, and the love in him draws hearts to him so they might know the love God is … for them.
Love does not whip us forward. It doesn’t move us by means of oughts and demands, guilt and obligation.
Love simply loves, moving love’s desire in open hearts. It invites us to come near because we want and need to do so. It is magnetic.
It doesn’t tell us what we should do. It asks, what do you want to do? What is in your heart? What is your joy? To what does love draw you?
'When I am lifted up I will draw all people to myself.' The drawing of love in a human soul is the presence of the living Christ coaxing us home to himself, to our true heart, to the person we really are.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 12:32-33
And when I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw all people to myself.' By these words he indicated the kind of death he would die.
Reflection
The Spirit draws; the devil drives. This is old wisdom among spiritual directors.
The Spirit of God draws the soul by love, coaxing the heart to its true self, its true home. The Spirit moves us from the inside, drawing us to what we most need.
The spirit of the evil one drives the heart, whipping it along with accusations and the guilt of ‘shoulds’ so that we might satisfy some judge, whether internal or external.
We carry so many ‘shoulds’ from external voices we have internalized, voices of parents, teachers, mentors, friends and often adversaries. These voices may have given kindly advice about what is good and right, popular or seemingly wise.
We hear the voices thousands of times through the decades of living, too often in unhelpful ways. Our fears of inadequacy, our guilt about what we have done or not done, and our shame about who we are--all these turns gentle advice into a mass of shoulds, shaking accusing fingers at us.
“I should …. I should … I should.” The sentence always makes me take notice, whether I hear it from someone else or when it crosses my own lips.
Often, the should looks and sounds good, something worthwhile we might do or seek.
But the motivation comes not from the depth of one’s heart, from the love that is within us seeking expression. It comes from judgments of others (or self-judgment) and is not expressive of what the Spirit seeks to love out of us.
Jesus is lifted up on the cross, and the love that filled him flows out as surely as his lifeblood. He is lifted up, and the love in him draws hearts to him so they might know the love God is … for them.
Love does not whip us forward. It doesn’t move us by means of oughts and demands, guilt and obligation.
Love simply loves, moving love’s desire in open hearts. It invites us to come near because we want and need to do so. It is magnetic.
It doesn’t tell us what we should do. It asks, what do you want to do? What is in your heart? What is your joy? To what does love draw you?
'When I am lifted up I will draw all people to myself.' The drawing of love in a human soul is the presence of the living Christ coaxing us home to himself, to our true heart, to the person we really are.
Pr. David L. Miller
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Today’s text
John 12:26-28
Whoever serves me, must follow me, and my servant will be with me wherever I am. If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him. Now my soul is troubled. What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour? But it is for this very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name! A voice came from heaven, 'I have glorified it, and I will again glorify it.'
Reflection
What would happen if we came to each day convinced that we were born for this hour, this time, the challenges of this particular day?
I remember the days following September 11, 2001. I was in New York City interviewing people, listening as they poured out immense pain and hungered for loved ones who never came home.
I traveled with a friend, Stephen, who was then the Bishop of the Metropolitan New York Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
For several days, we visited churches and schools, listening to stories of bitter loss, of loved ones whose bodies had been turned to ash in the inferno of the World Trade Center. We heard about children waiting at school house doors for a parent who never came to pick them up.
Today, I most remember Stephen’s words to gatherings of pastors and parochial school teachers. “You were baptized for this time,” he said. “You were born for this hour.”
“What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour? But it is for this very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”
Stephen never cited these words of Jesus, spoken as he contemplated the suffering of the cross on which he would die. But he might have.
We, too, might remember them as we come to each new day, especially days when the stakes are high, the work hard, the pain deep and the challenge daunting. There is no shortage of days we prefer to skip because they are too difficult, too painful … or because we are weary.
But each new morning brings the day for which I was born, the time for which the divine Spirit fashioned me, the hour in which I am to glorify God by giving myself in love to the needs of this time, whatever they might be.
The people of New York were soul-weary from grief and fear as Stephen and I met them up and down Manhattan, in Harlem, Queens and across the East River in Brooklyn. But Stephen’s words stirred many to rise to the challenge of a day no one wanted, to the pain of an unspeakable hour.
These servants of God knew; they were born for this time, for the facing of this hour.
This hour has not passed. It is now, always now, the hour God is glorified in the loving commitment we bring to reveal the mercy of the divine heart.
For this hour I was born, Jesus says. His words are true every morning … for us.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 12:26-28
Whoever serves me, must follow me, and my servant will be with me wherever I am. If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him. Now my soul is troubled. What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour? But it is for this very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name! A voice came from heaven, 'I have glorified it, and I will again glorify it.'
Reflection
What would happen if we came to each day convinced that we were born for this hour, this time, the challenges of this particular day?
I remember the days following September 11, 2001. I was in New York City interviewing people, listening as they poured out immense pain and hungered for loved ones who never came home.
I traveled with a friend, Stephen, who was then the Bishop of the Metropolitan New York Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
For several days, we visited churches and schools, listening to stories of bitter loss, of loved ones whose bodies had been turned to ash in the inferno of the World Trade Center. We heard about children waiting at school house doors for a parent who never came to pick them up.
Today, I most remember Stephen’s words to gatherings of pastors and parochial school teachers. “You were baptized for this time,” he said. “You were born for this hour.”
“What shall I say: Father, save me from this hour? But it is for this very reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”
Stephen never cited these words of Jesus, spoken as he contemplated the suffering of the cross on which he would die. But he might have.
We, too, might remember them as we come to each new day, especially days when the stakes are high, the work hard, the pain deep and the challenge daunting. There is no shortage of days we prefer to skip because they are too difficult, too painful … or because we are weary.
But each new morning brings the day for which I was born, the time for which the divine Spirit fashioned me, the hour in which I am to glorify God by giving myself in love to the needs of this time, whatever they might be.
The people of New York were soul-weary from grief and fear as Stephen and I met them up and down Manhattan, in Harlem, Queens and across the East River in Brooklyn. But Stephen’s words stirred many to rise to the challenge of a day no one wanted, to the pain of an unspeakable hour.
These servants of God knew; they were born for this time, for the facing of this hour.
This hour has not passed. It is now, always now, the hour God is glorified in the loving commitment we bring to reveal the mercy of the divine heart.
For this hour I was born, Jesus says. His words are true every morning … for us.
Pr. David L. Miller
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Today’s text
John 12:23-25
Jesus replied to them: Now the hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified. In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
Reflection
I do not hate my life, Jesus, but I recognize hyperbole when I hear it and this is hyperbole, deliberate exaggeration to make a point.
Saints of all ages have known the truth of what you are saying. And in our best moment so do we. St. Francis said it well: “in giving we receive, in pardoning we are pardoned, and in dying we are born to eternal life.”
The willing heart is able to give itself away for the sake of another--a friend, a family member, a colleague in arms, even an enemy. In losing yourself, surrendering who you are to bless and give life to another, we enter eternal life, here and now.
My soul knows this, Jesus, though I easily forget and act as if life is about protecting myself and what is mine.
I enter a new consciousness when I relax my defensiveness and release my need to prove myself. With joy, I freely give myself, my time, my blessing, my acceptance and welcome to all I meet. I flow like a gentle, joyful stream, knowing I am a single current in a great river of divine grace that extends through this world and into every universe.
I enter every moment knowing that this is all I really have, this moment, knowing, too, that life is found in bringing my whole self to each moment, to attend t it, to give myself to it, to surrender to its needs and demands, … losing myself in the moment.
And I discover once more that in giving I receive, in accepting the soul of another I taste again your great acceptance of me, and I am new. The fresh breeze of new-born spring gentles my heart and lightens my step, my soul and makes sweet my words.
I ask you, Jesus: How can I hate life in this world when in this world I can taste such grace, this beauty which is life eternal?
But you are right: Such gracious freedom comes in giving up, in pardoning, in our willingness to give ourselves away for the sake of loving the world as you love it. It is then that we know: in losing we gain, in giving we receive; in dying to what we are, we tasting the life of eternity … now.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 12:23-25
Jesus replied to them: Now the hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified. In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
Reflection
I do not hate my life, Jesus, but I recognize hyperbole when I hear it and this is hyperbole, deliberate exaggeration to make a point.
Saints of all ages have known the truth of what you are saying. And in our best moment so do we. St. Francis said it well: “in giving we receive, in pardoning we are pardoned, and in dying we are born to eternal life.”
The willing heart is able to give itself away for the sake of another--a friend, a family member, a colleague in arms, even an enemy. In losing yourself, surrendering who you are to bless and give life to another, we enter eternal life, here and now.
My soul knows this, Jesus, though I easily forget and act as if life is about protecting myself and what is mine.
I enter a new consciousness when I relax my defensiveness and release my need to prove myself. With joy, I freely give myself, my time, my blessing, my acceptance and welcome to all I meet. I flow like a gentle, joyful stream, knowing I am a single current in a great river of divine grace that extends through this world and into every universe.
I enter every moment knowing that this is all I really have, this moment, knowing, too, that life is found in bringing my whole self to each moment, to attend t it, to give myself to it, to surrender to its needs and demands, … losing myself in the moment.
And I discover once more that in giving I receive, in accepting the soul of another I taste again your great acceptance of me, and I am new. The fresh breeze of new-born spring gentles my heart and lightens my step, my soul and makes sweet my words.
I ask you, Jesus: How can I hate life in this world when in this world I can taste such grace, this beauty which is life eternal?
But you are right: Such gracious freedom comes in giving up, in pardoning, in our willingness to give ourselves away for the sake of loving the world as you love it. It is then that we know: in losing we gain, in giving we receive; in dying to what we are, we tasting the life of eternity … now.
Pr. David L. Miller
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Today’s text
John 12:20-24
Among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. These approached Philip, who came from Bethsaida in Galilee, and put this request to him, 'Sir, we should like to see Jesus.' Philip went to tell Andrew, and Andrew and Philip together went to tell Jesus. Jesus replied to them: Now the hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified. In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest.
Reflection
Did they find what they were looking for, Jesus?
These Greeks came seeking you. You used the moment to tell your friends that you were about to be glorified. Like a seed, you would fall into the earth and die and bear a rich harvest
We are not told if they ever saw you. We are shown.
We see you give yourself to your mission of loving your own and loving them to the end. Dying on a cross, you give yourself to the task of revealing the Love who brings life from death.
From the seed of your life, Jesus, millions of souls have become human beings. Drawn by the Love who filled you, they came and they still come.
They are hungry. God, how hungry we are, every one of us. What brings us is not some doctrine about you or some truth you reveal.
What brings us is the Loving Mystery, the unspeakable, unimaginable God you bore in the depth of your soul. This Holy One pored from your every pour.
What pours from you is this One who is Love, the One who made us and all things, the One from whom we feel separate and sometimes so far away, the One who is the home human souls seek in every age.
This is what draws us to you, Jesus. This is what draws me. We want to come home, to feel at home, to feel connected once more--or for the first time--to this mysterious Love.
We want to feel the in-rush of life and love flowing into our hearts, minds and bodies from an invisible and Infinite Source and know, physically know that every moment we are connected with the Mystery from once we came to whom we go.
Then we will feel alive, filled with the fire of love and courage, fully aware that our finite lives grow from the soil of Infinite Love, just like the yellow daffodils spring through the forest floor and color the earth with hope.
The Greeks came to you. They believed that once they were near you, with you, looking into your eyes, listening to your words--and to the movement of their hearts in your presence--they would find what they were looking for, what we all are looking for.
They were right.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 12:20-24
Among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. These approached Philip, who came from Bethsaida in Galilee, and put this request to him, 'Sir, we should like to see Jesus.' Philip went to tell Andrew, and Andrew and Philip together went to tell Jesus. Jesus replied to them: Now the hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified. In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest.
Reflection
Did they find what they were looking for, Jesus?
These Greeks came seeking you. You used the moment to tell your friends that you were about to be glorified. Like a seed, you would fall into the earth and die and bear a rich harvest
We are not told if they ever saw you. We are shown.
We see you give yourself to your mission of loving your own and loving them to the end. Dying on a cross, you give yourself to the task of revealing the Love who brings life from death.
From the seed of your life, Jesus, millions of souls have become human beings. Drawn by the Love who filled you, they came and they still come.
They are hungry. God, how hungry we are, every one of us. What brings us is not some doctrine about you or some truth you reveal.
What brings us is the Loving Mystery, the unspeakable, unimaginable God you bore in the depth of your soul. This Holy One pored from your every pour.
What pours from you is this One who is Love, the One who made us and all things, the One from whom we feel separate and sometimes so far away, the One who is the home human souls seek in every age.
This is what draws us to you, Jesus. This is what draws me. We want to come home, to feel at home, to feel connected once more--or for the first time--to this mysterious Love.
We want to feel the in-rush of life and love flowing into our hearts, minds and bodies from an invisible and Infinite Source and know, physically know that every moment we are connected with the Mystery from once we came to whom we go.
Then we will feel alive, filled with the fire of love and courage, fully aware that our finite lives grow from the soil of Infinite Love, just like the yellow daffodils spring through the forest floor and color the earth with hope.
The Greeks came to you. They believed that once they were near you, with you, looking into your eyes, listening to your words--and to the movement of their hearts in your presence--they would find what they were looking for, what we all are looking for.
They were right.
Pr. David L. Miller
Friday, March 16, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Today’s text
John 3:15-18
For this is how God loved the world: he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. For God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but so that through him the world might be saved. No one who believes in him will be judged; but whoever does not believe is judged already, because that person does not believe in the Name of God's only Son.
Reflection
Today, I want to live. This is a silly thing to say when taken on a surface level. Who doesn’t want to live? Only those so sick or troubled that waking up each day has become a burden instead of a blessing.
Here I am, Lord, awake again, fingers on the keys, awaiting for some small movement in my soul so that my hands may serve their truest purpose--pounding out words that bear your presence, shaping thoughts that come from your heart, speaking truth that wing my soul into the depth of your heart that you may enfold me and give total healing.
You are the Presence who eagerly awaits our return that our whole being may be wrapped in love.
That is what I want and need every morning, everyday … to feel my whole being--all that I am or ever will be--transported and wrapped in a love that rejects no part of me, a love in which I am always welcome. I want to feel and know it to be true. I want to know that whatever I feel when I am wrapped and lifted by love is my true identity--and yours.
So lift me into yourself, into the Love who holds me every moment so I may know salvation, the experience and reality of eternal life. To know your love is the experience of life itself. Anything less than this is the experience of judgment, of separation from our true home, from whom we really are and from whom you really are, Holy One.
Judgment is not something you lay upon us. We do it to ourselves every moment we live in fear, every moment we imagine that we are separate from you, every moment I fail to realize that this hunger in me for you is not a sign of your absence but of your presence pulling at me to surrender to your love, to quit doing, quit trying so hard, quit imagining that you are far off … and just know that all that I am and ever will be rests in your gentle hands.
So live with joy, you say. Abandon all fear. Cast away every anxiety and just know: your beginning and your end, your days and your years are in my hands. Fear not. Today is a day to live, really live.
Pr. David L. Miller
John 3:15-18
For this is how God loved the world: he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. For God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but so that through him the world might be saved. No one who believes in him will be judged; but whoever does not believe is judged already, because that person does not believe in the Name of God's only Son.
Reflection
Today, I want to live. This is a silly thing to say when taken on a surface level. Who doesn’t want to live? Only those so sick or troubled that waking up each day has become a burden instead of a blessing.
Here I am, Lord, awake again, fingers on the keys, awaiting for some small movement in my soul so that my hands may serve their truest purpose--pounding out words that bear your presence, shaping thoughts that come from your heart, speaking truth that wing my soul into the depth of your heart that you may enfold me and give total healing.
You are the Presence who eagerly awaits our return that our whole being may be wrapped in love.
That is what I want and need every morning, everyday … to feel my whole being--all that I am or ever will be--transported and wrapped in a love that rejects no part of me, a love in which I am always welcome. I want to feel and know it to be true. I want to know that whatever I feel when I am wrapped and lifted by love is my true identity--and yours.
So lift me into yourself, into the Love who holds me every moment so I may know salvation, the experience and reality of eternal life. To know your love is the experience of life itself. Anything less than this is the experience of judgment, of separation from our true home, from whom we really are and from whom you really are, Holy One.
Judgment is not something you lay upon us. We do it to ourselves every moment we live in fear, every moment we imagine that we are separate from you, every moment I fail to realize that this hunger in me for you is not a sign of your absence but of your presence pulling at me to surrender to your love, to quit doing, quit trying so hard, quit imagining that you are far off … and just know that all that I am and ever will be rests in your gentle hands.
So live with joy, you say. Abandon all fear. Cast away every anxiety and just know: your beginning and your end, your days and your years are in my hands. Fear not. Today is a day to live, really live.
Pr. David L. Miller
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