Working through Catharin of Siena’s Dialog is an encouraging reminder to be passionate in our pursuit.
O lovely and loving God‚
if I sleep too long and am not aware of your many blessings‚
Sing me an exuberant song of joy.
It is a song without sound or notes;
it is a song of love beyond all words.
Is a song of faith that no one can describe.
I hear it in my soul when you wake me
to become aware of your presence.
(Mechthild van Magdeburg – 13th Century)
I can feel the Earth tossing aside the blankets of her cool Spring bed as she moves to embrace the heat of Summer. The Spring has been extravagant in its offerings of rain, the life giving hope poured into aquifers, and hidden places. Will this be a thirsty Summer? Will there be a cry for rain? In the Earth? In me? I watch how nature doesn’t strive with the turning. Obedient, and present with the days. There is a quiet acceptance and a joyous celebration in the morning songs. It is here I discover the syllabus for this season. There is a trust that though we change, and the turnings come to our lives, there is One who does not change. There is one whose love is constant, whose supply is constant, whose compassion is constant, whose care is constant, who neither slumbers nor sleeps as He watches over the work of His hand. One who never ceases speaking us into being, and because he is, we are.
James 1:17 Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom can be no variation, neither shadow that is cast by turning.
So, I listen to the praise of sparrows, who can not fall without notice from their Maker, and join with the Psalmist of Israel and turn my face to the heat of a new season, while I trust as I sing: “I will praise the name of God with a song, and magnify Him with Thanksgiving” Psalm 69:30
New seed is faithful. It roots deepest in the places that are most empty -C.P. Estes
Gen 8:22 “While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease.”
The Lord made a promise. He smelled the sweet aroma of Noah’s worship, and promised his earth seasons. She would not lay dormant, shapeless, or void again. The passing of Winter and the coming of Spring reminds us of the faithfulness of our God. As he gives the earth we step on change, so he gives us, his earth change. We are the red earth of his hands, his workmanship and we hold his breath. The ancient breath, and the new breath given us in Christ. We have a promise of seasons in places that have been the most void of life. Our response is to open the gate. To not bar our heart from the shame of the desolation, but to open the gate and allow the Master Gardener to enter with his seed bag in hand, and gaze across the desolate landscape and throw with all the creative power of His being. Ours is to receive. To not judge the seed thrown, or its placement. Ours is to yield to the rooting, and trust the Father for Heaven’s Rain.
Lord come into my garden. Take delight in me.
I am overwhelmed today by God’s kindness, gentleness, justice, and mercy. Whatever the need that I find myself experiencing, there is always an abundant and appropriate supply to satisfy it. The amount, the type, and the timing of His supply is always perfect. And it is always offered as a result of His graciousness, rather than my deservedness.
This morning I am in the midst of one of those moments when my heart, mind, and my will feel as if they have momentarily aligned perfectly in union with Him.
Reading a poem by George Herbert rightly titled the Agony. The last line has gripped my heart. Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and longsuffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance? But after thy hardness and impenitent heart treasurest up for thyself wrath in the day … when God shall judge the secrets of men, according to my gospel, by Jesus Christ…
Your Father knows what you need before you ask him...(Matthew 6:8)
I struggle with prayer.
Conceptually and practically.
Most of those struggles are probably because I put unwarranted credence on my feelings at any given prayer moment. If I don't feel a tangible groaning, or a burning in my chest, or goosebumps on my neck, then my prayers must have been rendered ineffective.