Dear God, let me be fully obedient to your dictates. Let me hold nothing back, neither in my actions nor in the listening for your direction. If I do not hear your guidance it is my hearing that must be improved. Let me listen and listen harder.

Your commands, Lord, are mysteries. Why this action? Why not another? These questions arise out of my own twisted thinking. I am second-guessing. I am evaluating you, O Lord. The height of arrogant folly.

God, let me believe what I hear and let me so act. Your instructions are simple and instead of obedience I meet them with resistance and disbelief. Let me be your silent instruments today, Lord, doing your bidding.

I seek to spread the joy that comes from your perfect love, yet I pollute your message through doubt and obstinacy. How can I pass on what I do not embrace? Let me uphold your every command, without thought of self.

(Letter #1198)

Dear God, my mind is so unruly, leaping from thought to thought. So, too, is my will. Leaping. I have so many motivations and intentions, the one cascading upon the other, endlessly.

My thoughts, O Lord, are a busy city square. How can such chaos be brought to heel? I am powerless in the face of this constant babble of selfishness and self-seeking.

God, order my thinking. Simplify my inner life. Crowd out the thoughts of self, let them slip to the periphery, let them become no more than roaming dogs at the edge of the encampment. Keep them at bay. Let them, indeed, slip away to find others to vex. Leave in their wake, O Lord, a placid clearing and a safe sleeping ground.

Leave behind a quiet and simpler will, obedient and tamed.

(Letter #1197)

Dear God, let me look unsparingly at myself. I build illusions of good motives. I listen for, seek, and believe the praise of others. All so comforting.

In truth, O Lord, I am too often driven forward by selfishness, moved by fear, consumed, even, by resentment. Lord, remove these motives. Let me see them clearly.

Let me not fool myself.

God, let me place you at the center of my actions. Show me how I might do that. Shine grace upon me, as you have done before.

(Letter #1196)

Dear God, is there enough? Do I have enough? Will there be enough? Am I enough?

O, Lord, these worries nip at me. I keenly feel my small stature in comparison to all that needs doing. My brothers and sisters ache — how could I possibly bring them relief, with so few of my own resources?

I listen for guidance, yet not intently enough. I hear only partially.

Lord, your will for me is hidden. I do not even know the questions to ask. I am a child who cannot yet talk, I need simple demonstrations. Show me, Lord. Pull me along by the wrist where you would have me be, make plain the tasks you would have me perform.

And grant me courage. I am so small. I cower inside my rooms, afraid of the sunlight. Let me emerge, let me feel warmth, let it move my limbs. Sunshine, your love, brings energy and life — let me drink it in and pass it on.

I shiver, when just a step away brings relief. Overpower my sullen will, Lord, move me. Drag me to safety, even as I obstinately cling to these cold stones. Roll me over into the light, flip me on my back, let the sunshine warm my chest and face.

This is your love, your power brings ease even to the spent. Let me spread the news.

(Letter #1195)

Dear God, let me be an oasis. Let me attract with my cool water, shade, soft earth. Let those who come find rest and be restored.

The harsh sunlight beats down so many. They are exposed, raw, restless. They cover their heads in rags and slow to a crawl.

Let me offer cool water, O Lord. Let me offer shade.

Many fear the sun, yet you have constructed me to thrive in the light. Look down upon me; the more exposed I am the more erect I stand. How did this happen, when before I, too, shrank from such exposure?

Lord, you granted me grace to see how nourishing is your sunlight. I walk under the same light as do all. As they come to rest with me, Lord, let me pass on your love.

If you are love, then love is You. Let me pass on love, that all who walk in the desert may see it with new eyes.

We are your desert people, Lord. This landscape is indeed a wonder to behold and contains unimagined life. Show it to me, that I may share with my brothers and sisters.

(Letter #1194)

Dear God, let me do more than intended. Let me act in each moment, holding back nothing. Your will for me is to sow love, I know this. You litter my days with opportunity to shine your love all around. Holding aloft a lantern. In every room there are corners to be lit. Let me be the one to do so.

Yet I hold back. I pace myself. I protect myself. I choose which deeds to pursue and which not, when to act and when to rest. O the willfulness, expressed as inertia and reluctance.

Lord, let me meet your will. If you call me to spread love then let me do so without cease. In small matters and large, Lord, let me enthusiastically pass on your good news, your love, your light.

I think I hold the lantern; yet let me be the lamp itself. You fashioned me; let me express the will of my maker.

(Letter #1193)

Dear God, will you burn away all resentment, all self-righteousness, all self-pity? I judge my surroundings so harshly, and thus cheapen your glorious works. These things I wish to change, they are gifts prepared just for me. And yet I judge. Such a hideous act.

Lord, let me breathe in love, and breathe it out again. Over and over.

Where I would judge, let me love. Where I would dwell on my justified self-pity, let me love. Where I would puff myself up with prideful self-righteousness – let me, after all, love.

All around me, even in a solitary room, are infinite opportunities for curiosity. Let me look with fascination on what you have created. Let me welcome each creature that enters my sight.

Lord, O Lord, make me the person that you would have me be.

(Letter #1192)