So here I am in the place of
worship, eyes open, drinking in your strength and glory. In your generous love
I am really living at last! My lips brim praises like fountains. I bless you
every time I take a breath; My arms wave like banners of praise to you.
I eat my fill of prime rib
and gravy; I smack my lips. It’s time to shout praises! If I’m sleepless at
midnight, I spend the hours in grateful reflection. (Psalm 63:1-6, The
Message)
Scripture: Psalm 63:3-6
Journal: What is prayer like for you these days?
What do you most deeply long for?
Reflection:
Some people say they don’t know how to
pray. What they want is to be told the
correct way: surefire forms of words, reliable prayers and recitations,
meditations and exercises. These are
good ways to prayer. But they are only
means and instruments. They are systems
for coming to quiet, methods often meant to slow us down and make it possible
for us to hear God’s voice, to, sense His presence. They are not yet prayer itself. They are paths toward prayer, the
stepping-stones from our furious activity and movement into His life, His
being.
It is there that the Lord
teaches us to pray. When we begin to
pray, he prays in us; it is His power and grace that help us pray, till we
don’t know where we leave off and He begins.
We yield. And when that yielding
comes, we find that all the prayers made since time began are swept aside and
something new occurs. Something happens
now for the first time between the Lord and us, something springs from His
reality and our response, from His identity and ours in Him. We do not speak. He speaks.
We do not ask. He asks. He is the music that fills the universe, and
we—with our first fumbling steps—now catch the rhythm of the dance.
There are no words now, for
our prayer moves beyond words. And yet
there is a to-and-fro about it. He is
calling us and we are following. He is
surprising us—now here, now there—and we are chasing Him. Time stops, the music of His presence moves us,
leads us in ways we had not dreamed of, shows us gleams of an existence we
hardly guessed at. We are children now,
chasing the kingdom, stepping free of where we were and who we were, into new
selves, made in His image and likeness, selves of His making, meant for heaven
and for Him.
Now we exist with God. In Him we live and move. That is so always, the reality of our
existence even when we do not sense it.
But now we know it to be true; in prayer, the truth of it is suddenly
made clear. His presence overshadows us,
His power is ‘round about us. In prayer,
we know, just for a time, that He who hung the stars and moves the planets made
us, too—made us for His own reason, called us into being, holds us each instant
in existence, and calls us to reality in Him.
How can we know that, except
by grace: God in us, making known the mystery beyond speech, a knowing deeper
than all ordinary knowing? It is as
though our lives were lit up from within and some revelation—not breaking
through like miracles, but some entirely natural disclosure meant for each one
alone—were being whispered in the depths of the heart. (Clinging by
Emilie Griffin)
Prayer
Closing
Prayer: O True God, You are my God, the One whom I
trust. I seek You with every fiber of my being. In this dry and
weary land with no water in sight, my soul is dry and longs for You. My body
aches for You, for Your presence. I have seen You in Your sanctuary and
have been awed by Your power and glory. Your steadfast love is better than life
itself, so my lips will give You all my praise. I will bless You with
every breath of my life; I will lift up my hands in praise to Your name.
My soul overflows with
satisfaction, as when I feast on foods rich in marrow and fat; with excitement
in my heart and joy on my lips, I offer You praise. Often at night I lie in
bed and remember You, meditating on Your greatness till morning smiles
through my window. (Psalm 63:1-6, The Voice)
No comments:
Post a Comment