The invitation to prayer this week is taken from Tess Ward’s book “The Celtic Wheel of the Year,” combined with images for silent contemplation and a song. Enter the quiet and may the Spirit of God speak to you in this season.
Praise to you O Divine Love, for though you never ordain suffering, you help us to make sense of love’s purpose when hardship befalls. Reveal the meaning of this time that you have gifted to us. Help us so to trust you in every season, we may say: Praise to you.
Be still in the silence and aware of the Love with and within …
<A candle is lit if you have one at hand>
Loving God, you have loved us through every season, from the time of our birth, until our time to die. Walk with us in our season this day, for you know there is a time for wounding and a time to heal, a time to mourn and a time to celebrate, a time to be creative and a time to survive, a time to surrender and a time to rebel, a time to embrace and a time to be self-contained, a time to speak and a time to keep silence, a time to be there and a time to stay away, a time to take charge and a time to let be, a time to reach beyond and a time to consolidate, a time to be moderate and a time to be outrageous, a time to be anxious and a time to be at peace, a time to stay and a time to move on, a time to care and a time to be cared for, a time to generate and a time to lose, a time to love and time to let go. Bear us through this time, you who bear our pain and longing. Let us hear your voice whispering, “All is sacred. It is your time.”
As I sat down to write this morning, I was quite convinced that I would offer in this space today something meaningful and important around the practice of silence in centering our lives around the wellspring of God’s Spirit.
Instead, Rory – my very adorable, very neurotic border collie-kelpie cross -rushed up the stairs to find me and ask what we were doing next. She was delighted to discover that I was about to settle down to work and promptly rushed off to find something of her own to occupy herself with ….
… a much loved half-chewed green squeaky toy that has lost its head but not, miraculously unfortunately, its ability to squeak.
As she threw it into the air and pounced upon it as it landed, I noted the irritation rising within me at each “squeak, squeak. SQUEAK SQUEAK!” I was trying to start my day off right. I was trying to have a quiet moment. I was trying to draw near to God.
As her toy flew in yet another wild arch across the bedroom, I heard deep within me the words “But I’m already here” and felt a sense of wonder and relief suffuse my spirit.
In trying to orchestrate a meaningful encounter with God, I was missing out on a special moment of companionship and unconditional love, of spontaneity and simple laughter.
As she lies quietly at my feet right now, I take a moment to appreciate how the light streams in through the bay windows. To listen to the birds singing just outside in the branches of a jacaranda tree. To smile at the mother walking past with two little ones on bicycles. And to see the presence of God in them all.
There is nothing that I need to do to make God draw near for God is here. This is what resurrection means.
So … the invitation today, the discipline for us to cultivate as we seek to live the resurrection life: be attentive. God is with you. Open your senses to what is happening in the world around you in this very moment and let that be the basis of your prayer – with or without words.