Whatever works.
I’m a monk by trade…I like to think of it as my calling. People sometimes confound me. But PRAYER, that fills me. Prayer gives me hope, connection, and a mindfulness that lets me see the light and the miracles which surround me. Sometimes, they are soooo little, sometimes big, but definitely real. My faith in this crazy world is restored and God’s peace becomes available.
I also believe that prayer is much more than sitting and talking to God. For me it appears in word and photography, in music and dancing, in crying and being held. My job is to be present enough to notice and to listen to the still, loving voice within me. So this Lent I wish for all of us to find whatever works for each of us to pray without ceasing, to work knowing that God is right next to us, and to love without condition. Poetry is one of the things that works for me. So I share this poem/prayer with you all to be a guide for Lent. It’s written by Ted Loder and can be found in his book Guerrillas of Grace.
Catch Me in My Scurrying
Catch me in my anxious scurrying, Lord,
and hold me in this Lenten season:
hold my feet to the fire of your grace
and make me attentive to my mortality
that I may begin to die now
to those things that keep me
from living with you
and with my neighbors on this earth;
to grudges and indifference,
to certainties that smother possibilities,
to my fascination with false securities,
to my addiction to sweatless dreams,
to my arrogant insistence on how it has to be;
to my corrosive fear of dying someday
which eats away the wonder of living this day,
and the adventure of losing my life
in order to find it in you.
Catch me in my aimless scurrying, Lord,
and hold me in this Lenten season:
hold my heart to the beat of your grace
and create in me a resting place,
a kneeling place,
a tip-toe place
where I can recover from the dis-ease of my grandiosities
which fill my mind and calendar with busy self-importance,
that I may become vulnerable enough
to dare intimacy with the familiar,
to listen cup-eared for your summons,
and to watch squint-eyed for your crooked finger
in the crying of a child,
in the hunger of the street people,
in the fear of the contagion of terrorism in all people,
in the rage of those oppressed because of sex or race,
in the smoldering resentments of exploited third world nations,
in the sullen apathy of the poor and ghetto-strangled people,
in my lonely doubt and limping ambivalence;
and somehow,
during this season of sacrifice,
enable me to sacrifice time
and possessions
and securities,
to do something…
something about what I see,
something to turn the water of my words
into the wine of will and risk,
into the bread of blood and blisters,
into the blessedness of deed,
of a cross picked up,
a savior followed.
Catch me in my mindless scurrying, Lord,
and hold me in this Lenten season:
hold my spirit to the beacon of your grace
and grant me light enough to walk boldly,
to feel passionately,
to love aggressively;
grant me peace enough to want more,
to work for more
and to submit to nothing less,
and to revere only you…
only you!
Bequeath me not becalmed seas,
slack sails and premature benedictions,
but breathe into me a torment,
storm enough to make within myself
and from myself,
something…
something new,
something saving,
something true,
a gladness of heart,
a pitch for a song in the storm,
a word of praise lived,
a gratitude shared,
a cross dared,
a joy received.
Rev. Colleen and I are so grateful to be walking this Lenten journey with you in this 2024 world. You give us gifts beyond our explanation, hope for uncertain times, and joy in our togetherness. May the tender mercies of this season fill us body, mind, and spirit.
Rev. Joan
