Dear God, I hear your voice whisper to me through the mouths of my fellows. I have learned to try to listen; this is how you speak most often. Rarely does your voice echo directly in my ears. Your voice is instead all around me, available always, murmuring to me from the herd.
Then, Lord, you must use my voice to whisper to others. I stagger under the weight of this obligation.
I face all too human trials. I worry for my well-being, I fret over depletion of my resources, I envy others’ good fortune, I strive for my own advancement and honor. I clearly see how these grow out of my flawed character and I seek that they may be set aside, that I may be better in your sight.
But to what end? You call us not to grow in our individual spiritual development in order simply to improve. No, you call us to improve that we may be a beacon to others, that we may join in the murmuring.
O Lord, let me be worthy to carry such a weight! Let not my aims be narrow, stopping at my own spirit.
You call us not, dear Lord, to simply clean our own homes and tidy our own gardens, but to walk forth and tend to the village green. You call us to throw open our front doors and garden gates, that we all may see in one another’s lives the workings of your orderly love.
Let my voice speak your love. Let my hands do your work.