What can I do, O Lord? The world appears broken and I cannot repair it.

Flow through me. Grant me strength, grant me an understanding of your will. Let me carry your power and message from breach to breach.

(Letter #1,785)

Weeds grow. The wind blows debris across my doorstep. Dust settles on surfaces.

Lord, even through a neglected space, I glide unspotted in your arms.

Let not my eye light on specks of mud, Lord, for you have taken me by my right hand.

Up the path goes, to vistas and bracing wind, where I will flourish.

(Letter #1,784)

Who is in whose care?

I have become a custodian, husbanding and passing on your love to my fellows.

And I am also in your care, preserved for some duty you have yet to reveal.

You saved me, Lord, and now I will give you to others.

(Letter #1,783)

Thank you for all the ways you are already answering even my most desperate prayer. Let me but recognize it.

(Letter #1,782)

What is neglected? What is pushed to the edge of the road, swept into the gutter, left behind?

What, indeed, remains despised?

Let me seek treasure there, dear Lord. The wealth of what is forgotten.

(Letter #1,781)

Let me love those who do not love me.

Let me give thanks for difficulties.

Let me promote others before myself.

Let me give away my resources.

I will become an empty pitcher. Thank you, Lord, for my ability to hold the water that will quench my parched fellows.

(Letter #1,780)

Alone, in a boat, at sea, attached by a fraying line, a desultory knot. Are you at the other end, Lord?

How long and how far have I been drifting?

Will you make your way out to me if I pull?

Let me set aside my oars and come home.

(Letter #1,779)

Failure will come; it comes already. You love me none the less.

Shortcomings drive my actions and thoughts; and yet you love me as a favored son.

Dark and selfish thoughts course through me; how am I then worthy even of your notice?

As I roam these fields, walk these cobbles, let me encounter my fellows with some small part of your love. It is pure grace, given me as an undeserved and even unlooked-for gift.

I am a steward of your love — let me onpass it.

(Letter #1,778)

Thank you, Lord, for the answers that will come.

You will provide the will, the words, the resources. You will turn away the spear points aimed at my soft parts, you will prepare a resting place for my revival. You will shower me with gifts.

Thank you for all that is to come.

(Letter #1,777)

A candle gladly lights another without worry that it will lose its own brightness. The unlit wick needs only to touch the lit.

Lord, you have set a candle glowing in my heart. It is bright enough to read by, but such a limited use would be a shame.

Let me light others’ wicks.

(Letter #1,776)