Lord, grant that I may meet the coming day with spiritual tranquility. Grant that in all things I may rely upon your holy will. In each hour of the day, reveal your will to me. Whatever news may reach me this day, teach me to accept it with a calm soul, knowing that all is subject to your holy will. Direct my thoughts and feelings in all my words and actions. In all unexpected occurrences, do not let me forget that all is sent down by you. Grant that I may deal firmly and wisely with every member of my family and all who are in my care, neither embarrassing nor saddening anyone. Give me strength to bear the fatigue of the coming day with all that it shall bring. Direct my will and teach me to pray, to believe, to hope, to be patient, to forgive, and to love. Amen.

I guess it’s enough to be thankful for the a-ha moments, however often they may make encore performances, eh?

I look back over my journal entries sometimes (the blog, too, but I’m speaking specifically here about personal journal entries that don’t make it to public consumption.) and am amazed that I am ecstatic to finally “get” something, only to agonize over it again a few months later and then “get it” again, with the same grateful delight or passive resignation, whichever the case may be.

What are these things that I get and forget repeatedly?  Oh, I don’t know, that prayer is important?  That God actually enjoys spending a little time with me.  That I frequently enjoy that time, too.

May God’s peace be with you.

I had prayed to stay in the present, and celebrate my friend’s joy, not ruminate over my past.  With one fleeting exception, I was in the moment, and in my friend’s blessed and joyful moments.  The fleeting moment…not a fully welled tear that even needed wiping away, only some fleeting mistiness.

(thanks, God.)

God is good.  In fact, he even came through with extra brownie points above what I’d asked for.  At the communion rail, while waiting my turn, there I caught our bishop’s eye.  He was not four feet away, and seated at an altar chair while the vested deacons (newly and long-time ordained’s) distributed the sacrament.  I was able to beam him a (nicely reciprocated!) big genuine smile while waiting for my turn to receive Communion.  Of course, the friend got a bigger more beamy smile when SHE distributed Communion to me!  :)  And it was so AWESOME to see and hear her own ultimate beaminess this day.  What joy was hers today!  She and the other newly ordained deacon shared in giving the diaconal dismissal to “go forth into the world to love and serve the Lord”, but it was her eager booming voice that entered my ear the loudest.

Thanks be to God, indeed.

Peace!

A dear soul/spiritual friend of mine is getting ordained a deacon in the Episcopal church on June 5, 2010.

Well, I should say, “God willing and the people of God consenting” as they always humbly preface announcements of such events.  :)  (I have a feeling it’ll go on without a hitch, though.)

I first met this friend at the occasion of our shared ministry discernment weekend about 3&1/2 years ago, the last step before interviews with the Bishop for his decision on beginning the diaconal formation program.  The answer in my situation was discern some more, and come back to see me [Bishop] again.  The “come back to see me again” piece didn’t ever really happen in that context; discernment since that time hasn’t really added or subtracted much from my clarity position at the interview.  And that is tough sometimes. <sigh>

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Heavenly Father, if it’s all the same with you, I’d really like to celebrate new ministry directions and steps – milestones – for my friend, and for the gift of her service to your Holy Church.  Let my attentions and presence that day be in celebration with and for my friend, not ruminations over “could have been’s” and “what if’s” about me.

I know we’ve been a little out of touch in the prayer and discernment department as of late, God.  (sorry!  I miss you, too.) I SWEAR I’ll do better if you just let me make it through this special day for my friend,  keeping me from breaking down and crying over “my” stuff and unfinished business; if there be tears let them be tears of joy for my friend.  We’ll have time for the stuff that is between you and me some other time, in the privacy of  my room in prayer…I don’t really think we need to confront and rehash those things in public on my friend’s day, do we?   Keep my focus on my friend, and on you on June 5th…help me, Father?!?

Hopefully (and sheepishly), your (well-meaning!) daughter.

Stillness and quiet prayer with God is primarily about taking time to let God love you.

Reminded me of a discussion as part of our priest’s preaching learning group recently.  One member of the feedback group remarked that the sermons she preaches bring God closer that the sense or imagery of God he heard as a child/younger man.  He said something that it’s nice to hear it preached that God loves us, and not just aloof and far away.  I remarked, yeah, you can’t hear that preached too often, can you.

Take a little time each day to let God love you.

Peace be with you.

I was a little ashamed at my felt sense of pride in that recognition of kindness and the other’s appreciation afterward.  But maybe it’s a healthy self-assessment in the face of so many other not so healthy judgments I’ve directed toward myself?

I recognize that I bask in the glow of being appreciated. Is that basking a “pure” kind of joy that is a normal and expected result of following God’s call to service, or self-puffery?

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Lord, help me to be a blessing in the lives of those whom I touch.

Lord, help me to fix my gaze on you, and enjoy the pleasures in my self and with others that comes in serving, and, sure, even in being appreciated.  Keep me from both inordinate self-puffery and inordinately harsh self-judgment.

Lord, help me to be unafraid to trust you and freely and joyously offer my life for you to use me as you see fit, whether for public and greater or lesser recognized service, or for quiet unassuming care of those around me and in my personal prayers.  Help me to both recognize and accept the path you will continue to show me, all the days of my life.

Amen.

Sin is rebellion.  In other words, it is a condition of mind and soul rather than the specific acts which spring from that condition.  Sins are the outward boils and blains.  Sin is the poison in the bloodstream.

This fifty-first Psalm knows both the boils and the poisons.  And confronts both because it springs from the knowledge that sin is not God’s intended condition for man.

Here’s Psalm 51, pasted in for your convenience, as it appears in the Book of Common Prayer.  Peace be with you!

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51   Miserere mei, Deus

1      Have mercy on me, O God, according to your

loving‑kindness; *

in your great compassion blot out my offenses.

2      Wash me through and through from my wickedness *

and cleanse me from my sin.

3      For I know my transgressions, *

and my sin is ever before me.

.

4      Against you only have I sinned *

and done what is evil in your sight.

5      And so you are justified when you speak *

and upright in your judgment.

6      Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, *

a sinner from my mother’s womb.

7      For behold, you look for truth deep within me, *

and will make me understand wisdom secretly.

8      Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure; *

wash me, and I shall be clean indeed.

9      Make me hear of joy and gladness, *

that the body you have broken may rejoice.

10    Hide your face from my sins *

and blot out all my iniquities.

11    Create in me a clean heart, O God, *

and renew a right spirit within me.

12    Cast me not away from your presence *

and take not your holy Spirit from me.

13    Give me the joy of your saving help again *

and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.

14    I shall teach your ways to the wicked, *

and sinners shall return to you.

15    Deliver me from death, O God, *

and my tongue shall sing of your righteousness,

O God of my salvation.

16    Open my lips, O Lord, *

and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.

17    Had you desired it, I would have offered sacrifice, *

but you take no delight in burnt‑offerings.

18    The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; *

a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

19    Be favorable and gracious to Zion, *

and rebuild the walls of Jerusalem.

20    Then you will be pleased with the appointed sacrifices,

with burnt‑offerings and oblations; *

then shall they offer young bullocks upon your altar.

I have a problem. I want to tell you about it. No, I really don’t.  I’d rather keep it to myself; handle it alone.  I do think it would be good for me to share it with you, though. I don’t want to because I’m afraid of what you’ll say or how you’ll act.

I’m afraid you might feel sorry for me in a way that makes me feel pathetic, like I’m some “poor thing.”

I’m afraid you’ll try to cheer me up.  That you will give me words, or texts or prayers that tell me in a subtle way to stop feeling bad.  If you do that I’ll feel worse (but hide it behind my obedient cheer-smile). I’ll feel you don’t understand.  I’ll feel you are making light of my problem (as if it can be brushed away with some brief words of cheer.)

I’m afraid you’ll give me an answer.  That this problem I’ve been wrestling with for some time now and about which I have thought endless thoughts will be belittled.  You can answer in a half-minute what I’ve struggled with for weeks?

I’m afraid also you might ignore my problem; talk quickly about other things, tell me of your own.

I’m afraid too you might see me stronger than I am.  Not needing you to listen and care.  (It’s true, I can get along alone but I shouldn’t have to.)

What I’d really like is if you would “just walk with me.”  Listen as I begin in some blundering, clumsy way to break through my fearfulness of being exposed as weak.  Hold my hand and pull me gently as I falter and begin to draw back.  Say a word, make a motion, or a sound that says, “I’m with you.” If you’ve been where I am, tell me how you felt in a way that I can know you’re trying to walk with me – not change me.

But I’m afraid…

You’ll think I’m too weak to deserve respect and responsibility.

You’ll explain what’s happening to me with labels and interpretation.

Or you’ll ask me, “What’ya going to do about it?”

PLEASE, JUST WALK WITH ME. All those other things seem so much brighter and sharper, smarter, and expert.  But what really takes LOVE is to “JUST WALK WITH ME.”

He [Benedict] says that humility means that we know our place in the universe, both in relation to God and i realtion to our fellow human beings. Humility is not groveling, nor is it some false notion that somehow we are not as good as the next guy.  Rather it embraces so much who we truly are that groveling and comparisons to other people never enter into it.

From the Community of Hope participants’ manual, 6th ed. 4/30/06. Emphases added are mine.