Exhaling

Lord, make us Easter people. Transform us by Your Light, Your Light which rises out of our very darkness.

Your Way is Your way

            and their way is mine, having crossed over

            to freedom through a parted sea that seemed no way,

            guided by cloud and fire, now my

            gratitude fades into the sand of this wilderness

            that I must traverse;

            I hear my heart whining for Egyptian cucumbers and

            my mind seizes the same old idolatries it once rejected.

Your Way is Your way

            and my way is not, charted by the fear and

            need that blind and compel me to run forward in blindness,

            causing me to stumble and beg for what is not mine to have;

            like a mule, I cannot be lead by what is clear

            nor am I likely to keep moving on principle.

            My own darkness and fallenness are crippling and

            I will not be lifted by Your bright wing.

Your Way is THE way

            and Your Word is Truth, from before the world or I began

            but I cannot run in this Way, crippled as I am

            by my own desires and sense and fear and sin.

            I look to Your covenant of salvation as my only hope;

            Your steadfast love must be enough for me.

            I see what You have given for my freedom and glimpse

            beyond cucumbers and golden beasts and even desert waters

            that I can be saved if only I concede that

Your way is mine.

To know I know nothing

is to know something indeed.

To see I’ve not suffered

is to begin to bleed.

To recognize true hunger

is to prepare to feed.

To hope beyond my sin

is to welcome the tiny mustard seed.

I did not write these today, but I sent them to a friend. And though I wrote them at least a year ago, I will share them now:

We long to be near You

on Your right and Your left

when You say “Follow Me.”

And our consent to go

wherever You lead

must be full and free.

“Can You drink the cup

that I will drink?”

And we impetuously nod our YES.

But the cup that You hold to our lips

makes us recoil

from its bitterness.

Yet You continue to hold it out for us

time and time again

Patiently waiting

through our reticence

until we comprehend

That we must embrace

the suffering

Your love for us

outpours –

We must share

this cup with You

if we would be all Yours.

There have been many moments over the last week when I have felt I had something to share with you all here, but when I reached for words in which to wrap it, I came up empty. Some things are best left in silence, some things are ineffable.

Here, in the recollection of Lent, I am wrapped in a kind of inner silence, almost an emptiness. But it is an emptiness that is not empty.

This is where we are called to be, isn’t it? This is the radical poverty of the blessed, in which we are aware of our utter emptiness, but we are given what we need when we need it. Not before; we’d then have to carry it around with us. No, grace is given for the moment. For this moment.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” Give us TODAY enough for TODAY. Give me this moment enough for this moment. No more.

We need not hold on to anything but Him for security - our security is in the knowledge that we are loved, and awaited.

We are awaited by Love, and our arrival is prepared for by Him. He has gone to prepare a place for us.

Tomorrow we embark on a journey anew.

We are always “on the way,” but during these 40 days we are invited to take a closer look at how well we are travelling.

Maybe we need to lighten our load, walk more deliberately, more steadfastly, or reach out more generously to others on the road.

Let us pray to be open to what the Lord is telling us to do, and ask Him to give us the courage and grace to make those changes.

In this pain

is Your call

to look on You

deep within me

and remain with You

in the silence

where You speak

and the darkness

where You wait.

O Heart of Light

hidden here, but

calling to my own

clouded heart!

Clear the cluttered

chambers – empty

them utterly, so that

in them may echo

the rhythm of Your own

Heart, beating steadily

with love

for me…