My Empty Heart

Compassionate Lord,

Thy mercies have brought me to the dawn of another day,

Vain will be its gift unless I grow in grace,

          increase in knowledge,

          ripen for spiritual harvest.

Let me this day know Thee as Thou art,

          love Thee supremely,

          serve Thee wholly,

          admire Thee fully.

Through grace let my will respond to Thee,

Knowing that power to obey is not in me, but

   that Thy free love alone enables me to serve Thee.

Here then is my empty heart,

   overflow it with Thy choicest gifts.

This prayer from the Valley of Vision reads like poetry. The first line calls to mind Lamentations 3 but does something interesting by flipping the wording. The Lamentations passage acknowledges that God’s mercies are never-ending. They are new every morning. This passage is always a breath of fresh air when we feel like we’re at a roadblock, when things aren’t going our way. We recall this to be reminded that it is God who sustains and blesses us. We’re reminded that things can be better.

However, in this prayer the author takes it a step further to remind us that it is a mercy all its own that gets us to the new day in the first place. This is both a sobering reminder that we are not guaranteed tomorrow and a catalyst to action because we have been gifted another day to serve and worship Him.

But how are we going to do that? Historically, people don’t have a great track record at extending kindness in the midst of a pandemic. We’re captured by fear and suspicion. Sure, there are stories of selfless people sacrificing everything for others. Nevertheless, I fear that these stories are the exception. Things can quickly move to an every person for themselves mentality. What a great reminder for the mercy of a new day, “vain will be its gifts unless I grow in grace.”

This is not a call to ignore the dangers of this thing and to put other people at risk. Part of what it may mean to love our neighbors at this time is to remain distant from them. We use wisdom during these moments, but whatever we do, we don’t stop loving, caring, and showing people that they are not forgotten. This is, however, a call to be aware of your attitude toward those around you. How are you continuing to relate and grow in empathy rather than close yourself off and grow in distrust?

So, let us know and love God for who he is, and let us serve him faithfully by our love, extended not just vertically to God but horizontally to our neighbors as well. 

Prayer and Reflection

Pray that God instills in us a desire for grace rather than suspicion. Open your hearts and offer the empty vessel to the Lord that it may be formed into His likeness and filled with the Spirit’s fruit. Which of those fruits do you need most right now? Ask for that.

but in Your Cross

This morning I’d like to shift gears and try something different. Instead of taking a look at a passage of Scripture, I’d like to share a prayer with you from the 20th century monk and author, Thomas Merton. I don’t typically use traditional devotionals in my own life. I don’t really know why, but I often gravitate towards other things like written prayers and poetry to supplement my Bible reading. They tend to be both short and reflective.

The reading this morning appears in a collection of Merton’s prayers titled, Dialogues with Silence. Hannah and I randomly came across it a few years ago in a small bookstore in Providence, Rhode Island. I’ve since used it off and on for daily reflection. It’s funny to me how something so random, so seemingly inconsequential can work its way into the daily rhythms of life. If you’re in my college group, you may have read this particular prayer before, but it’s one of my favorites. Sometimes these take a second, slow reading to really catch the intimacy and details. Reflect with me.

My Lord, I have no hope but in Your Cross. You, by Your humility, sufferings and death, have delivered me from all vain hope. You have killed the vanity of the present life in Yourself and have given me all that is eternal in rising from the dead.

My hope is in what the eye has never seen. Therefore let me not trust in visible rewards. My hope is in what the human heart cannot feel. Therefore let me not trust in the feelings of my heart. My hope is in what the hand has never touched. Do not let me trust in what I can grasp between my fingers, because Death will loosen my grasp and my vain hope will be gone.

Let my trust be in Your mercy, not in myself. Let my hope be in Your love, not in health or strength or ability or human resources.

If I trust You, everything else will become for me strength, health and support. Everything will bring me to heaven. If I do not trust You, everything will be my destruction.

Amen.