conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

friday...really?

When mystery hides Thee from the sight of faith and hope; when pain turns even love to dust; when life is bitter to the taste and our song of joy dies down in silence; then, Father, do for us that which is past our power to do for ouselves.
Break through the darkness with Thy light.
Show us Thyself in Jesus suffering on a Tree, rising from the grave, reigning from a throne with all power and love for us unchanging.
So shall our fear be gone and our feet set upon a radiant path.

I have to admit that this does not feel like the end of the week to me. Usually, I can get some sense of things coming to a close somehow. Whether it is a sermon that is coming together or something else, my week usually slows down. Not so with the past couple of weeks. I remember this feeling. Life was once like this...and I had to build sabbath into every day. I was kind of hoping that I would not have to return to this lifestyle when I became a pastor. And perhaps I still do not. There are ways that I can take action to prevent the steady errosion of free time.

Please understand that my time is being consumed by things I enjoy. Leading three-day retreat is wondrous. A conference on creating vital and intentional Christian communities is a great thing. So too are the moments when I have to stop over by the church to attend a meeting or catch up with the church secretary. These are all good things. Shows and visits and the list goes on and on..."Sleep is for the weak."

But somewhere in there I must find the stillpoint, the brief restorative flash of attentivenes to God's mystery. But it is ellusive lately. I am either too busy or too tired. I know that I am not alone in this. I know that many of my congregation(s) suffer with this. Family and work and play all demand something of us. But for myself at least, unless I can ground myself in that stillpoint, in the mystery that is God, then the events of my life have no context. They appear to careen about, directionless.

And I am too tired to find God where God would be most evident. "Like as the hart..."

Wayne Muller's, Sabbath book sits on my bedside table. I have yet to open it. I have commentaries strewn about the dining room table. They are open. When I was ordained, the prayer offered over me during the laying on of hands warned of moments like this. "Let him never substitute preaching and teaching for his own life of prayer." And it is so easy to do.

May we find God in the stillpoint. Teach us to pray without ceasing, O Lord...that we may find you in the midst of storm and hear your voice in the whirlwind. Grant traveling mercies to our loved ones. And bring peace unto this world that it may reveal the next.

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.

Posted by tripp at October 27, 2006 06:20 AM