nathaniel ogden kidd (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bland_hyssop) wrote,@ 2006-03-17 09:43:00 |
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prayers
Today’s prayers held a certain unusual power for me. The longer confession is a powerful tool for examining one’s heart, and Canticle 14, the song of penitence expresses repentance in a truly unique way. I must say, the Book of Common Prayer is a wonderful treasury of English worship.
But I realize upon reflection that where these flowery liturgical documents unearthed hard places in my heart, simple reflection should have sufficed. Even if I throw away all of God’s Word besides Jesus’ broadest injunctions, I still fall flat on my face. For he said, “Treat others as you would be treated,” and “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”
Yet I scarcely and inadequately love God, and I do not love my neighbor. I spend most of my time being self-indulgent seven ways from Tuesday, and if I think of my neighbor at all, it is most likely a moment of minor annoyance that he does not love me as I need him to love me when I need him to love me.
Occasionally, the Word of God within me prompts me to do some act of love. These days, by some monumental and miraculous growth, I am able to respond faithfully maybe one time out of ten. And how many other compassionate actions do I miss simply because my heart is hard and my eyes are closed?
This is the utterly dirty, painful truth of my sin. It is not so pedestrian as “God said don’t (blank), and I went on and did it anyway,” though that happens from time to time as well. It is that my lifestyle, perhaps even my very nature, is set contrary to God’s work in the world, such that when these hands reach forth in love, it is a miraculous exception, not the rule. This is the state of humanity. God called me to be a blessing to the earth and a light to the nations, but even on a good day, I can barely see beyond the boundaries of my own little pathetic self.
But the Gospel does not stop here. God is not sitting in heaven scorning my stupidity and planning the incineration of my soul. Rather, He weeps because I have rejected the full and beautiful life He has prepared for me, and He comes down to walk beside me and show me the way I should live. And though I misunderstand Him again and again, still He keeps speaking. I kill Him, and He not only does not resist, but He offers me His life, and commands me to eat His flesh and drink His blood. And His Spirit is still with me, tinkering with my soul day in and day out, trying to salvage this pitiful wreck.
Sometimes when I think about all God had done, I think that He is insane. But then I look closer—He is not insane; He is love. He was sitting in nothingness, and His love overflowed into creation. His treasured Creation rebelled against Him, and He died for it, promising its redemption with His blood. His love is still active in the world, hidden, like a seed in the earth, transforming me and many others into His Body, the people bound together by His love and blessing the world by His love.
And this story is to define our lives, not because God will kill us otherwise, but because it is life, fully and fundamentally. Jesus, though I am dead, I want to live.
You, O Lord, are the God of those who repent,
and in me you will show forth your goodness.
Unworthy as I am, you will save me,
in accordance with your great mercy,
and I will praise you without ceasing all the days of my life
In no other place are earth's sorrows
felt more than they're felt in heav'n;
in no other place where earth's failings
have such kindly judgment giv'n.
There is plentiful redemption
in the Life that rises from death;
there is joy for every seeker
in the holy touch of God's breath.
Today’s prayers held a certain unusual power for me. The longer confession is a powerful tool for examining one’s heart, and Canticle 14, the song of penitence expresses repentance in a truly unique way. I must say, the Book of Common Prayer is a wonderful treasury of English worship.
But I realize upon reflection that where these flowery liturgical documents unearthed hard places in my heart, simple reflection should have sufficed. Even if I throw away all of God’s Word besides Jesus’ broadest injunctions, I still fall flat on my face. For he said, “Treat others as you would be treated,” and “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”
Yet I scarcely and inadequately love God, and I do not love my neighbor. I spend most of my time being self-indulgent seven ways from Tuesday, and if I think of my neighbor at all, it is most likely a moment of minor annoyance that he does not love me as I need him to love me when I need him to love me.
Occasionally, the Word of God within me prompts me to do some act of love. These days, by some monumental and miraculous growth, I am able to respond faithfully maybe one time out of ten. And how many other compassionate actions do I miss simply because my heart is hard and my eyes are closed?
This is the utterly dirty, painful truth of my sin. It is not so pedestrian as “God said don’t (blank), and I went on and did it anyway,” though that happens from time to time as well. It is that my lifestyle, perhaps even my very nature, is set contrary to God’s work in the world, such that when these hands reach forth in love, it is a miraculous exception, not the rule. This is the state of humanity. God called me to be a blessing to the earth and a light to the nations, but even on a good day, I can barely see beyond the boundaries of my own little pathetic self.
But the Gospel does not stop here. God is not sitting in heaven scorning my stupidity and planning the incineration of my soul. Rather, He weeps because I have rejected the full and beautiful life He has prepared for me, and He comes down to walk beside me and show me the way I should live. And though I misunderstand Him again and again, still He keeps speaking. I kill Him, and He not only does not resist, but He offers me His life, and commands me to eat His flesh and drink His blood. And His Spirit is still with me, tinkering with my soul day in and day out, trying to salvage this pitiful wreck.
Sometimes when I think about all God had done, I think that He is insane. But then I look closer—He is not insane; He is love. He was sitting in nothingness, and His love overflowed into creation. His treasured Creation rebelled against Him, and He died for it, promising its redemption with His blood. His love is still active in the world, hidden, like a seed in the earth, transforming me and many others into His Body, the people bound together by His love and blessing the world by His love.
And this story is to define our lives, not because God will kill us otherwise, but because it is life, fully and fundamentally. Jesus, though I am dead, I want to live.
You, O Lord, are the God of those who repent,
and in me you will show forth your goodness.
Unworthy as I am, you will save me,
in accordance with your great mercy,
and I will praise you without ceasing all the days of my life
In no other place are earth's sorrows
felt more than they're felt in heav'n;
in no other place where earth's failings
have such kindly judgment giv'n.
There is plentiful redemption
in the Life that rises from death;
there is joy for every seeker
in the holy touch of God's breath.
