Thursday, February 21, 2019

Dear God, you stand ready to aid me, you array forces in my favor. Yet I blind myself to them, keeping my sight on my plodding feet.

Lord, breathe air into my spine, straighten my posture. Let my eyes scan the horizon. Nothing to fear there. These hosts are yours, coming to meet me.

I thought I heard thunder, dear God, and it frightened me. It was the hooves of the ones you sent to rescue me.

Let me welcome the trembling ground.

(Letter #1,503)

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Dear God, you are in me. Why, then, do I seek and journey for you?

It is its own form of arrogance, that I imagine by great effort I may come upon you. You were here all along!

Lord, if you are in me, then I must be a steward and pass along your love.

Let me learn humility today. Let me not seek displays of piety and virtue. Let me be the source of warmth no one knew was present.

(Letter #1,502)

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Dear God, impatient, I look daily at my garden for evidence of growth. Where are the sweet fruits I hoped for? In frustration, convinced the seeds did not take, I plow it all up, I overturn the soil, I try again.

And what chance did I give the seeds to sprout? I knock down the house before it is built, convinced that it will never stand.

Lord, I act too soon. Impatient, panicked, faithless, I make desperate moves that wipe away the bounty that was poised to appear.

Let me learn to trust your love for me, Lord. You test me by asking me to wait while you prepare to shower me with gifts.

Such a small thing: to wait. Let me make my faith in you real. Let me learn to wait.

(Letter #1,501)

Monday, February 18, 2019

Dear God, I wonder, in times of trial, how you will ever save me. The pit is too deep, the calamity to great. But lo! A door appears, and behind it, a stairway. Other times, Lord, you shift the very ground. The hole in which I cower becomes a flat and easy plain under sunny skies.

I live in a world of everyday miracles. You save me daily, in ways large and small. Yet each comes as a surprise.

But, Lord, if I have true faith in you then I will have quiet equanimity. You will sustain me, your child. I ought not wonder whether, but instead marvel at how.

Let me trust you as a child, dear Lord.

(Letter #1500)

Sunday, February 17, 2019

Dear God, handfuls of us group together to seek you here or there. We worship, or we chant, or we give ease to one another. We work our bodies, or we study in companionship.

Tiny groupings, assembled. Each one I enter thinks it is for a separate purpose. The rooms all look different, some bright with mirrors, some dim. Some with chairs, some benches, some cushions on the floor.

Lord, where a group is that seeks for you – there you are. Even as we cry out for answers to prayers, you already deliver the greatest gift. Here with this small band of seekers, you invade our space and quicken each individual heart.

My chest glows, I can feel it warming. The edges of the room fall away, a husk blown in the wind. What remains? The truth: you, with me, with us, together.

Do my fellows see? Am I to share this vision? Shall I nudge my neighbor awake?

You have made me an ember, Lord. Let me warm others, whether they see the source or not.

(Letter #1499)

Saturday, February 16, 2019

Dear God, I meet you in these early hours, daily for years. Pace by pace, morning by morning, I dwell with you. The one who came to you in pain, crying out to find you, so long ago — he was me and now is not me.

I was alone in a pit. You crept in upon me, raised me day by day, and now I sit in a meadow beside a cool stream. Yet I had to call to you for you to come.

How could I have known that your gift to me was despair? And that it would flower so long hence? Ground down, I became willing to consistently seek you — and you reward me today with presence.

Lord, you have regenerated this broken spirit. I am new, and was made so through steady, slow trial.

Today, dear God, let me see present trials as equally a gift. When under pressure, I am moved to seek you yet more urgently. One more gift-day.

In my meadow, Lord, I am glad for the wildflowers, the green valley walls, the stream. Glad, too, am I for the thieving fox who visited overnight.

From a lonely pit, you have moved me to this place, living now among other creatures.

Fellows come to visit. How ever shall I tell them of the days upon days that brought me here? The gift is not this meadow, it was in the days before.

(Letter #1498)

Friday, February 15, 2019

Dear God, outside my door, along the pathways, what is already growing?

This forest, this land, is abundant. I look at a bare patch and wonder how I will fill it in. I worry for the winter, yet under my feet grass grows.

Yea, even were I to plant, I misperceive my strength. It is the seed that does the growing; I merely place it.

Lord, let me see your gifts, your love, already emerging.

(Letter #1497)