Category Archives: Spiritual Life

An Open Wound of Love

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I visit parishioners in care facilities, like this one on Sand Creek Highway.  I saw a man and a woman there today.  The woman was asleep so I simply sat at her bedside for a time.  I call these Quaker Visits since they involve sitting in contemplative silence, praying for the person.  The only personal item in her room, or rather in her part of the room, was a framed photo of her and her husband; in it she wore a purple dress.  He lives nearby in a retirement community, where I have seen him.  He loves her dearly and visits her every day.  As I sat in the wheelchair at her bed, I thought of a quote from Richard Foster: “The heart of God is an open wound of love.”  I wondered if when our hearts become tender, open, wounded with longing, then we make fresh contact with the very life of God.

The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks

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The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks.  Translated by Benedicta Ward.  The Desert Fathers and Mothers flourished in the Middle East from the 3rd century onward.  Their words and way of life became the foundation of Christian monasticism.  There are two kinds of collections of their sayings: alphabetical (according to each abba or amma) and topical.  This book is a topical collection with hundreds of sayings grouped into 18 categories: Progress in Perfection, Quiet, Compunction, Self-Control, Lust, Possessing Nothing, Fortitude, Nothing Done for Show, Non-Judgment, Discretion, Sober Living, Unceasing Prayer, Hospitality, Obedience, Humility, Patience, Charity, and Visions.  The sayings are pithy, earthy, to the point.  Many sayings take the form of anecdotes and stories.  Often they are quirky and funny.

Two hermits lived together for many years without a quarrel.  One said to the other, ‘Let’s have a quarrel with each other, as other men do.’  The other answered, ‘I don’t know how a quarrel happens.’  The first said, ‘Look here, I put a brick between us, and I say, “That’s mine.”  Then you say, “No, it’s mine.”  That’s how you begin a quarrel.’  So they put a brick between them, and one of them said, ‘That’s mine.’  The other said, ‘No; it’s mine.’  He answered, ‘Yes, it’s yours.  Take it away.’  They were unable to argue with each other.

As a Protestant, I believe salvation comes by grace through faith alone.  Reading these early Christian monks, it seemed to me their way of life could amount to salvation by works.  But keeping that concern in mind, I still see the Desert Fathers and Mothers as exemplars of life lived according to gospel values of mercy, silence, humility, poverty, purity, simplicity and love.  Like the American Quaker John Woolman, these ancient ascetics model the way of Christ to me.  They show me where I fall short and help me resolve to try again at being a Christian.

Fresh Sap

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From Rufus Jones (1863-1948), Quaker writer and humanitarian:

When a man’s praying sinks into words, words, words, it means that he is trying to get along with a dead conception of God.  The circuit no longer closes.  He cannot heighten his prayer by raising his voice.  What he needs is a new revelation of the reality of God.  He needs to have the fresh sap of living faith in God to push off the dead leaves of an outgrown belief, so that once more prayer shall break forth as naturally as buds in spring.

[God] is a being who can pour His life and energy into human souls, even as the sun can flood the world with light and resident forces, or as the sea can send its refreshing tides into all the bays and inlets of the coast, or as the atmosphere can pour its life-giving supplies into the fountains of the blood in the meeting place of the lungs; or, better still, as the mother fuses her spirit into the spirit of her responsive child, and lays her mind on him until he believes in her belief.

May you find fresh sap in the new year.

Seasons of Silence

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When an old cottonwood tree next to her home loses its leaves, Maria Evans becomes sad with the ensuing silence.  The tree no longer makes its “heavenly applause” as the wind blows through its leaves.  Winter is a season of silence, waiting for spring and the return of leaves.

The tree’s silence, though, is a reminder to her of the planned times of silence in the liturgical calendar:

One of the things I appreciate about the wisdom of our liturgical calendar is that it contains two seasons of planned silence–Advent and Lent.  Both seasons remind me of a very important piece of the Biblical cycle of Creation–> Sin–> Repentance–> Restoration/Resurrection — that for things to be reborn, they must often die to themselves.  That we don’t get to choose the nature of the restoration.  That we will be given enough to make it through this time of silence.  That what springs forth in the new season will most likely be better than we could have imagined or chosen for ourselves.  That it is precisely when things seem the deadest is when the most diligent work of restoration is taking place.  My cottonwood tree is not uncomfortable with its silence.  I am.

My season of silence now is no longer hearing our Ascend praise band sing each week.  That music was essential my spiritual life.  A few of the band members tell me their silence now is in not hearing my preaching.  In many ways we will need to live with the silence, waiting for what will come next.

This post on cottonwoods reminded me of a row of old cottonwoods west of our home in Carson City, when I lived there as a teen and young adult.  In the autumn their leaves turned a golden yellow, which looked striking against the brilliant blue mountain sky.  I used to revel in that sight each year.

Fallen Leaves

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A Native American elder I know says that he begins teaching people reverence by steering them over to the nearest tree.

Barbara Brown Taylor

Sunday afternoon I led an interment service in our memorial garden.  Putting ashes in the ground is a holy moment for those who come.  But the reverence disappears if you are the one who digs the hole, unlocks doors, sets out chairs, practices scripture readings, and rushes to get a music stand at the last minute.  In general I think it is hard for religious leaders to sense much reverence during religious rituals because they are too preoccupied managing them.  But we have our little glimpses of grace too.  My holy moment came when I noticed the carpet of locust tree leaves collected on the ground, and the two leaves in the violinist’s hair as she played.  The fallen leaves made me look up at the tree towering over my head, its branches pointing my eyes to the sky.  I felt small and sheltered.

‘doubt is as old as faith’

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Allan R. Bevere called my attention to this post from James K. A. Smith, professor of philosophy at Calvin College, where he notes that doubt has always had an honored place in orthodox forms of Christianity.

It seems that those who think permission to doubt is some radically new possibility for Christians are the same people who think that a concern for justice is some “secret message” of Jesus heretofore hidden from Christianity–when, in fact, it just means that it was hidden from them in the pietistic enclaves of their early formation. In a similar way, doubt is as old as faith…But there is also an important difference between emergent skeptics and catholic doubters: The new kind of skeptics want the faith to be cut down to the size of their doubt, to conform to their suspicions. Doubt is taken to be sufficient warrant for jettisoning what occasions our disbelief and discomfort, cutting a scandalizing God down to the size of our believing. For the new doubters, if I can’t believe it, it can’t be true. If orthodoxy is unbelievable, then let’s come up with a rendition we can believe in. But for catholic doubters, God is not subject to my doubts. Rather, like the movements of a lament psalm, all of the scandalizing, unbelievable aspects of an inscrutable God are the target of my doubts–but the catholic doubter would never dream that this is occasion for revising the faith, cutting it down to the measure of what I can live with.

Spiritual Royalty

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On Friday my wife turned on the TV in our room at 6 a.m. to see the royal wedding while we were staying with a relative in Newport News, Virginia.  I asked her to hand me my glasses and settled back into bed to watch the ceremony.  What struck me mostly was not the dress, lovely as it was, but the maple trees brought into the church. I drifted back to sleep but woke again at the last to see the two kisses from the balcony.

Afterward I wondered how it felt for Kate Middleton to move from commoner to royalty.  She certainly looked regal in her dress and demeanor.  And I wondered if royalty is at its root a state of mind.  Kate could be transported now to an alien land where her royalty is unknown, but she would still carry it within her.

Scripture describes another kind of royalty:

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

1 Peter 2:9

God confers royalty on all who believe — a royalty of spirit as we recognize our kinship with Christ the king, whose voice we listen for in daily life.  Perhaps this explains why C.S. Lewis made the Pevensie children Kings and Queens of Narnia.  He envisioned an alternate realm of the spirit where believers are royalty.

It is natural to assume this spiritual royalty is a copy of the earthly royalty of William and Kate.  But actually, it is the opposite.  The royalty conferred by Christ is real, and earthly royalties, as splendid as they appear, are merely shadows.

‘God does indeed communicate’

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The one corner-stone of belief upon which the Society of Friends is built is the conviction that God does indeed communicate with each one of the spirits he has made, in a direct and living inbreathing of some measure of the breath of his own life; that he never leaves himself without a witness in the heart as well as in the surroundings of man; and that in order clearly to hear the divine voice thus speaking to us we need to be still; to be alone with him in the secret place of his presence; that all flesh should keep silence before him.

~ Caroline Stephen, 1834-1909

(photo by Oliver Herold)

‘An Instrument of His Will’

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The President speaks of his faith at the National Prayer Breakfast:

On Thursday, Obama spoke of the value of prayer, saying, “Let me tell you, these past two years, they have deepened my faith.” He talked of the daily meditations he receives from Joshua DuBois, head of his faith-based initiatives office, the occasional visits from pastors to pray with him in the Oval Office, and the “respite and fellowship” of the chapel at Camp David.

“When I wake in the morning, I wait on the Lord, and I ask him to give me the strength to do right by our country and its people,” he said. “And when I go to bed at night, I wait on the Lord, and I ask him to forgive me my sins and look after my family and the American people and make me an instrument of his will.”

Prayer Spaces

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On the trapped miners in Chile:

Jimmy Sanchez, one of the 33 Chilean miners who have been trapped for over two months in the San Jose copper-gold mine in the Atacama Desert, would like to make one small correction to all the stories about life in the mine: “There are actually 34 of us,” the nineteen-year-old miner wrote in a letter sent up from the mine on Tuesday, “because God has never left us down here.”

Amid reports of squabbling on the surface among families of the trapped miners, some say things are much calmer underground as everyone prepares for this week’s attempt to bring them back up. The men have worked hard to keep their spirits buoyant during the ordeal, organizing themselves into a community and dividing up their living-room-sized space. Early on, they set aside a space to pray daily, and religious groups have converged on the mine to serve the miner’s spiritual needs.

They also asked for statues of Mary and the Saints to be sent down.  They wanted symbols of their faith for their prayer space.

We all need a place to pray.  “On the Sabbath we went outside the city gate to the river, where we expected to find a place of prayer.” (Acts 16:11)  My prayer spaces include at church our memorial garden and youth room, at home the basement and my bed, any local park, and my car.

The news says the rescuers will begin pulling them up today.  I pray they all make it up safely, and when they do they will have much larger spaces to pray in.

Christian Simplicity

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“It is, indeed, not easy to define the precise kind or amount of luxury which is incompatible with Christian simplicity; or rather it must of necessity vary.  But the principle is, I think, clear.  In life, as in art, whatever does not help, hinders.  All that is superfluous to the main object of life must be cleared away, if that object is to be fully attained.  In all kinds of effort, whether moral, or intellectual, or physical, the essential condition of vigour is a severe pruning away of redundance.”

Caroline Stephen (1834-1909)

Isaac Pennington on Grace

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“Grace is a spiritual inward thing, an holy Seed, sown by God, springing up in the heart.  People have got a notion of grace, but know not the thing.  Do not thou matter the notion, but feel the thing; and know thy heart more and more ploughed up by the Lord, that his Seed’s grace may grow up in thee more and more, and thou mayest daily feel thy heart as a garden, more and more enclosed, watered, dressed, and delighted in by him.”

Isaac Pennington (1616-1679)

What To Do With Doubt

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Gordon Atkinson offers guidance to believers on what to do with doubt.  His best advice is to continue on with your religious practices even in times of doubting.  It’s like when a man asked the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins how to have more faith, and Hopkins told him, “Give alms.”  Actions nurture beliefs, or undermine them.  Gordon also warns against being too proud of your doubts, bragging about them and trying to create doubts in others.

I have seen two opposite errors with doubt.  One group elevates doubt to the level of a sacrament.  Skepticism is a bright silver badge on their lapel.  The other side tries to stamp out any doubt in the life of the believer, but this is simply unrealistic.  If we are human, we are going to go through times of doubt and struggle in life.  It is inevitable.

There is a well-worn passage in the Bible that says,

“You must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed about by the wind.  Those who doubt should not think they will receive anything from the Lord; they are double-minded and unstable in all they do.” (James 1:6-8 TNIV)

Taken alone, this text condemns doubt in any form and makes it an obstacle to faith.  But when you put this admonition from James in the context of the rest of scripture, a more complex picture emerges.  Look at the book of Psalms, for example.  On one page of the Psalms there might be joyous expressions of trust and praise, and on the next page admissions of doubt, despair and desolation.  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (22:1)  These are words Jesus Himself uttered from the cross as He was dying.  So for us in our times of pain and confusion, we doubt that God is still present with us.

The key for us in those times is to take those doubts to God and lay them at His feet, as Jesus Himself models for us.  He doesn’t simply cry out that God has forsaken Him, He phrases the plea in the form of a question that He addresses to God.  In other words, even in His most extreme moment, He refuses to give up His lifelong habit of praying.  Which is exactly what Gordon Atkinson suggests.  When in doubt, keep up your practice of prayer.

Doubt is like fire.  It is useful to us in small, controlled doses, like when it helps us cook a meal.  Walking through times of doubt can actually strengthen faith.  But be careful the fire doesn’t grow out of control because it may threaten to burn the house down.  How to keep it under control?  Perhaps one method is to channel doubt into our prayers rather than let it drive us away from God.

Gordon McDonald on an Inner Conversation

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Gordon McDonald believes clergy need to take regular time each week for an inner conversation with God and with themselves.  He envisions a time to ask questions of ourselves and look for insight on what God is teaching us.  He draws examples from Moses and William Wilberforce to reinforce the idea.  He also provides a list of questions to ask during our inner conversation.  His list reminds me of ones the early Wesleyans used.

Here are the questions:

  • What have been the beautiful moments in which God may have been revealing himself to me? And what have been the evil moments when the worst in me or in the larger world showed itself?
  • What happened this week that needs to be remembered, perhaps recorded in a journal so I can return to it in the future and recall the blessing (or the rebuke) of God? Making such a record is like those monuments and altars God had the Israelites raise up when great things worth remembering had happened.
  • What have my prevailing feelings been (and what are they at the present)? Has there been a preponderance of sadness, of fear, of anger, of emptiness? Or has it been a time where joy and enthusiasm has been the dominant mood?
  • What have been the “blessings,” those acts of grace that have come through others or—as I perceive it—directly from God himself? Can I express praise and appreciation (sometimes even written in a thank-you note or journal)?
  • Have things happened for which I need to accept responsibility, perhaps leading to repentance? Why did they happen? Were they avoidable and how can they be prevented in the future?
  • What have been the thoughts that have been dominating my leader think-time? Noble thoughts? Escapist thoughts that woo me away from more important or challenging issues? Superficial thoughts that lead to nowhere?
  • Is there a possibility that I am living in denial of certain realities? Painful criticism, sloppy work, habitual patterns that are hurting me and others?
  • Are there any resentments or ill feelings toward others that remain unaddressed, unforgiven?
  • As a leader visualizing myself in the company of spouse, children, friends, colleagues: am I a pleasant person to be around? Are people challenged, elevated, enthused when I enter the room? As someone has observed, “Some people bring joy wherever they go; others bring joy when they go.” Which am I?
  • What is God trying to say into my life today? Through Scripture? Through other readings? What has he been saying through those in my inner circle of relationships? Through critics? What insights swirl up and out of the deepest parts of my soul? Which of them needs to be repudiated, and which needs to be cultivated?
  • What are the possibilities in the hours ahead? Where might there be ambushes that would challenge character, reputation, well-being?
  • What are the things I might do and say that would make the people in my inner circle feel more loved and appreciated?
  • Am I mindful of the socially awkward, the poor, the suffering, the oppressed in my local world and in the larger world? Am I in tune with appropriate current events in the world and perceiving them through the lens of biblical perspective?
  • What specific steps will I take today to enhance growth as a follower of Jesus?

    • This is an excellent practice, one that would benefit parishioners as much as pastors.  But especially for pastors, I wonder if one reason clergy lose their faith is neglect of such an inner conversation, or other habits like this.

    Friday is my sabbath.  Sometimes it gets squished by funerals or hospital calls, but that’s understandable.  I don’t practice this inner conversation, so I printed out his list of questions to try.  It’s a lot to go through, but one or two could suffice on a particular week.

    (photo by Chris Upson)

    Prayer for Kids

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    I helped with children’s Sunday school last Sunday.  Since worship and education run concurrently, that meant skipping out of the worship service itself.  Being an associate with only minimal responsibilities in morning worship, I can easily do this.  I understand parents who want to worship while their children are in church school — there are advantages to this way of doing things, but one of the drawbacks of the arrangement is that the children see the pastor less often.  I think they need to, so I show up from time to time to assist the teachers.

    Lately the children have been learning about the Lord’s Prayer.  Twenty of them sat in rows of blue chairs, singing a song about the Fruit of the Spirit.  They walked over to the sanctuary and performed the song and returned to class.  Then it was my turn.  I brought a newspaper with me and asked the children if they knew the 5 Ws — reporter questions journalists use when they write stories.  Who, what, where, when and why.  Two children on the left knew the answer.  So we used those five question words to talk about the who, what, where, when and why of praying.

    Who can pray?  (Anyone, not just ministers or parents.)  What do we pray?  (Thanks, help, the Lord’s prayer.)  Where do we pray?  (Anywhere, in a secret place.)  When do we pray?  (Anytime, morning and evening, when someone we know is sick.)  Why do we pray?  (God loves us and wants us to bring our needs to him.)

    With their teacher’s direction, the children showed me hand motions they’ve been learning as they memorize the Lord’s prayer:  Our Father (hands together in prayer), who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name (finger pointing to the sky), thy kingdom come, thy will be done (hands over head making a castle), on earth (point down) as it is in heaven (point up).  Give us this day our daily bread (pretend you are feeding yourself).  Forgive us our trespasses (fighting motions) as we forgive those who trespass against us (shake hands or hug).  Lead us not into temptation (finger on forehead, thinking) but deliver us from evil (make protective circle with other children).  For thine is the kingdom (castle again) and the power (hold up bodybuilder arms) and the glory forever (thumbs and index fingers together in heart shape).  Amen.

    I shared with them my own version of the Lord’s prayer, the way I pray it when I’m just myself… not the minister.  I say, “Loving Father, may your name be praised, and may your kingdom come.  Take care of my needs today.  Forgive my failings, as I forgive those who fail me.  Save me from trials and temptations.  Free me from evil.  And fill me with your Spirit.  Amen.” I end with a request for the Spirit because Jesus ends his teaching on prayer in Luke by saying God will give the Spirit to those who ask (11.13).  So I ask.

    At the end of the class, the teacher led the children in a game.  They had to ask for forgiveness and then hop, step or twirl forward.  It reminded them about “forgive us our trespasses” and gave them a chance to move.  Children need to wiggle a lot.  I played the game with them and left the class with a smile on my face.  I’m one of God’s kids.

    Mid-Life Conversions

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    Paula Huston on the radical spiritual changes than can happen in mid-life, which she calls the third conversion:

    Despite my upbringing as a level-headed Lutheran and my later allegiance to a church that locates the source of spiritual growth primarily in the sacraments and liturgical worship, I’ve become convinced that we experience the most surprising spiritual wake-up calls at the most inconvenient times. When we do, we are faced with a choice: we can avoid or ignore them, or we can close our eyes, hold our noses and take the plunge into disruption.

    Her “plunge into disruption” took the form of leaving her teaching job and her marriage for a time and going on a pilgrimage to shrines around the world.  Hers is a powerful story, offering insight to those of us passing through gentler forms of mid-life conversion.

    Order and Disorder

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    The interlacing of order and disorder is precisely what seems to be needed for the creative emergence of novelty.  New things happen in regimes that we have learned to identify as being “at the edge of chaos.”  Too far on the orderly side of that frontier and things are too rigid for there to be more than a shuffling rearrangement of already existing entities.  Too far on the disorderly side, and things are too haphazard for any novelties to persist.  ~ John Polkinghorne, Exploring Reality, p. 27

    Shuffling rearrangement of already existing entities… that describes the life of an institution.  Institutions fear disorder and exert control to keep it at bay.  But disorder, according to Polkinghorne, is needed for new life to emerge in the system.  On the other side, order is necessary for new life too.  Apart from the stability order brings, new life will not thrive for long.  Neither a rage for order or a rage for disorder will do.

    I find lately that a life of prayer benefits from order and disorder, repetition and spontaneity.  Prayer blends the regular and the random to sustain itself.

    When Clergy Are Like Smokers

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    These words from Quaker Thomas Kelly are on my mind today:

    Some of the most active church leaders, well-known for their executive efficiency, people we have always admired, are shown, in the X-ray light of Eternity, to be agitated, half-committed, wistful, self-placating seekers, to whom the poise and serenity of the Everlasting have never come.

    I often have an uneasy relationship with other clergy.  I’ve met many good pastors and priests — kind, gracious, spiritual men and women.  But I also come across the ones who aren’t, who lack the “poise and serenity of the everlasting.”

    Interacting with other ministers, particularly online, can be like walking through the smoking section at a restaurant.  They exhale things, out of long standing habit and necessity, and then the smell lingers on me the rest of the day.  They don’t notice the odor, of course, because they live with it constantly.  But I do… and I have to leave the room in search of clean air.

    I avoid restaurants that aren’t non smoking — I’m too sensitive to cigarette smoke.  In a similar way, I’m learning to avoid certain gatherings of clergy because the contagion in the air makes it difficult to breathe.

    I’m also more attentive to what I exale myself — whether or not my own words benefit those who listen.

    Agendas In the Church

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    I have set the Lord always before me.
    Because he is at my right hand
    I will not be shaken. (Ps 16.8)

    God, I felt shaken yesterday.  Frustrated, angry… dealing with decisions, regrets and agendas.  Always agendas.  Agendas in the church wear me out.  Pascal was right — the world’s problems would be solved if we’d all sit quietly in our rooms.

    All my anger bubbled over finally in the evening when I was with my wife.  She is kind and understanding.  I’m lucky to have her.  That is, if luck has a place in your providence!  Then I walked down to the basement, read a psalm and talked with you about my anger.  I felt better then.

    What does your servant David mean when he says he sets you always before him?  How does anyone set you anywhere?  He must mean he consciously remembers you… he tells himself you are present with him, and then he reminds himself not to be shaken.  He surely faced more dangers than I do.

    I’d rather not be shaken, God.  But when I am, it’s good to know you are near, as close as my own hands.

    An Honest Prayer

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    Why pray?  Evidently, God likes to be asked.  God certainly does not need our wisdom or our knowledge, nor even the information contained in our prayers (“your Father knows what you need before you ask him”).  But by inviting us into the partnership of creation, God also invites us into relationship.  God is love, said the apostle John.  God does not merely have love or feel love.  God is love and cannot not love.  As such, God yearns for relationship with the creatures made in his image.  (Philip Yancey, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference?, p. 143)

    Do you yearn for a relationship with me, God?  I don’t understand… I don’t get it at all.  Why?  Why?  I’m a nothing, God.  I’m a bit of cork floating in Lake Michigan, and for some unfathomable reason you are interested in my life.  It makes no sense.  Is this what it means for you to be love itself?  You cannot not love… well, that must present you with challenges.  I can choose not to love, but apparently you cannot.

    I want to pray to you, but I’m scared.  How do I know you’re not going to ask me to do some ridiculous thing?  Like Abraham having to offer up Isaac… what was THAT all about???  Did you not know ahead of time that he had faith?  That story scares the piss out of me, God.  How do I know that if I pray to you you’re not going to ask me to do something like that too?  Give up what is most precious to me… If I’d been him, I’d have walked away right then.  I don’t have a son or a daughter, but I have a little dog Jazz, and I could never do anything to hurt her.  I’d walk away from you first.

    There are days, God, when religion has worn me out.  I don’t like religion.  Nor religious people… no, that’s not true… I love my congregation, and it has religious people in it.  It’s professional religious people I don’t know what to do with.  What a strange lot clergy are.  I have questions about religion, God, questions I’m afraid even to admit or ask.

    My congregation looks to me as a spiritual leader… Ha!!  How ridiculous is that!?  I know nothing more than they know… actually, I know less than they know.  They are the ones who teach ME about faith.  I preach to them for 15 minutes a week, and for the other 167 hours and 45 minutes, they preach to me with their lives.

    But most important, what do I do with you, God?  You, who yearn for a relationship with me… for reasons I do not grasp.  How can I trust you?  How can I learn to pray to you again?  I’m always having to learn how to pray over and over.  I pray to you all the time in my job… but how can I learn to pray to you as just me… little me, floating along with all my fears and hopes.

    I like what your servant Augustine said:  “My soul’s house is too small, God.  Enlarge it.  It’s falling apart.  Repair it.  It has things in it that offend your sight, that I know.  But who can clean it up except you?”  That’s an honest prayer.  Augustine had his problems, but he could write beautiful stuff.

    So every day I have to start again.  You are God, and I am me.  And you yearn for relationship with me.  So I should start to pray again.  But I’m scared… and hopeful.