Take My Word For It

I use them for online orders, plane tickets, work expenses, and for a couple of recurring monthly bills: credit cards. Visa, MasterCard, Discover – all of them have high interest rates if you don’t pay off the balances at the end of each month, even higher for people with low credit scores or no credit history. American Express has a yearly fee for the privilege of not leaving home without it. To get one, you sign a piece of paper (virtual or physical) that says you are responsible for whatever debts you incur. Some say it’s modern day usury.

Then there are mortgages, car loans and leases, and student loans. A deposit and a signature, and you get keys or an education (and a monthly payment for ten to thirty years, give or take.). You sign several pieces of paper that say you will act in good faith to repay the debt.

When you think about it, it’s an act of trust for the lender, that the money given will be returned; it’s an act of faith for the borrower, that there will be work that allows the repayment of such debts. These are promises, written in ink or with a virtual pen. And there are consequences if those promises are broken, sometimes severe ones.

In the last few decades, predatory lending practices have ruined the family finances of those who didn’t read the fine print or didn’t understand it. I wonder if this would be changed if both borrower and lender saw these transactions as promises, and did their best to insure that the promises made weren’t just words on paper but the beginnings of mutually beneficial relationships…

Pots and Pans

Lord of all pots and pans and things, make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates! Brother Lawrence

Last night’s chicken and roasted vegetables dirtied two sharp knives, a cutting board, two bowls, two plates, ten pieces of silverware, a spatula and a roasting pan. Yesterday’s breakfast produced two coffee cups, a French press, a pour-over, two bowls, two plates, and a handful of silverware; lunch brought a sauce pan, two water glasses, and three bowls. Our daily bread brings with it our daily dirty dish duty.

This work has to be done, and this work will never be done. I can see it as pointless – rolling a boulder up a hill with Sisyphus only to see it roll back down – or I can see it as a built in opportunity to give thanks for the lives of all the people who grow the food I put on the table, the bounty of the land that offers it, and the blessing of the people who gather with me to eat it.

And I can be grateful to my husband, Dave, who does the dishes as often as I do…

Ready for the next meal…

This is one in an ongoing series. For more information, click the Three P’s above.

Where Was I?

Lord!

Where was I?

Oh yes, this flower, this sun,

thank You! Your world is beautiful!

This scent of roses…

Where was I?

A drop of dew

rolls to sparkle in a lily’s heart.

I have to go…

Where? I do not know!

The wind has painted fancies

on my wings.

Fancies…

Where was I?

oh yes! Lord,

I had something to tell you:

Amen.

[The Prayer of the Butterfly; Prayers from the Ark; Carmen Bernos De Gasztold (Rumor Godden, translator);New York: Penguin Books, 1969, p. 34]

How is it that my mind wanders far afield when I pray? There’s no end of things that poke through my stillness. I’ve imagined them as paper boats that I float down a sun-sparkled river, or as bubbles carried away on an updraft. Either image of letting go works well enough, I guess, but not well enough to prevent more things from intruding on my prayer time. They are part of me and the sooner I accept their presence, the better.

So I’ve changed my image. Now, I picture myself as a small pond full of all kinds of life below the surface, reflecting a star-filled sky on the surface. Thoughts are ripples on the surface that distort and disturb the sky reflection. I take a deep breath, exhale, and imagine the ripples smoothed. Life under the surface continues to go on, but it doesn’t hamper my ability to reflect.

I doubt I’ll ever get to the point of not needing some image to release thoughts or feelings when I’m praying. But I’m pretty sure God can work with me on that…Amen

Poems, Prayers, and Promises

Words and rhythm that remain in our hearts and minds long after most prose we’ve read has been forgotten. Poems indicate more than they explain.

Words we send to God, sometimes with rhythm, sometimes without. They embed themselves in our souls and connect us with the one who breathes life into us.

Words spoken today that anchor us to one another into a future we cannot even imagine. Kept or broken, they are the ground we walk on.

Come. Explore the three P’s. And, if you are feeling particularly brave, add your own…

Incomprehensible Love

St. Olaf Choir

Lord, I’ll never understand why, but I am grateful. I’ll sing on. Amen.

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul
What wondrous love is this, O my soul
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul

To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, I will sing
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing
To God and to the Lamb, who is the great I Am
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing
While millions join the theme, I will sing

And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be
And through eternity, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on
And through eternity, I’ll sing on

Holy, Holy, and Holy

We bless you, O God, most high and Lord of mercy. You are always doing great and inscrutable things with us, glorious and wonderful, and without number. You grant us sleep for rest from our infirmities, and repose from the burdens of our much toiling flesh. We thank you, for you have not destroyed us with our sins, but have continued to love us; and though we were sunk in despair, you have raised us up to glorify your power. Therefore, we implore you incomparable goodness. Enlighten the eyes of our understanding and raise up our minds from the heavy sleep of indolence. Open our mouth and fill it with your praise, that we may be able without distraction to sing and confess that you are God, glorified in all and by all, the eternal Father, with your only begotten Son, and your all holy, good, and life giving Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen. Prayer of Saint Basil

The words change, but the general gist doesn’t: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother, Son, and Life-giving Spirit; Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Triune. Trinity. God as community and communion, always one and always internally relational among three Persons. Who God is can’t be reduced to an abstract concept or a list of attributes: God is fluid, dancing rather than cast in stone or gold. Anyone who claims to understand the nature of God fully, even after encountering God on a Damascus road or in a dream, is practicing a particular kind of religious self-deception. God cannot be reduced to any one person’s understanding – or any one faith tradition’s creed.

My best attempt to catch a glimpse of the Mystery is an analogy. Having two sons has shaped the person I have grown into. I’m not defined by my role as mother, but I have been changed by it in ways I cannot articulate. They are both separate individuals, unique and not defined by their being sons. But there is delight in our connection, and life is richer for it.

If that is true of me, it’s true of so many others. If it’s true of so many of us, how much truer it must be of God.

Perhaps I’m better off to open myself up to the mystery rather than try to explain it…

In All and By All

Open our mouth and fill it with your praise, that we may be able without distraction to sing and confess that you are God, glorified in all and by all, the eternal Father…Prayer of St. Basil

[For full prayer, click St. Basil’s Prayer: Lent 2024 above.]

How different a world this would be if we could honestly sing and confess that God is; if God were truly glorified in all and by all, would we ever raise a hand against another – much less an army?

And yet. Isn’t the presence of God in every life form, in every breath that gives life and movement? Does the sad truth that I cannot see it and celebrate it with any constancy change the sanctity of all that is, or the holiness of the creator of all things?

Distracted

Open our mouth and fill it with your praise, that we may be able without distraction to sing and confess that you are God.. St. Basil’s Prayer

I’ve never been one for keeping a frantic life pace or a packed calendar. I value the spaces in between work hours, life work, social events and community engagements. I don’t want to live a life of repeatedly catching up and inevitably crashing in an exhausted heap. I don’t want my epitaph to be she checked off all the items on her to-do list.

Unclaimed and unstructured space is necessary to restore body, mind, spirit, and heart; it widens my perspective, helping me see myself and my neighbors. It clears away the distractions of my activities and commitments, and opens the door to the place I meet God.

I don’t want to miss out on the singing and confessing because I’m too distracted by worldly cares and commitments. I don’t want to live that life.

Does anyone?