I've found myself these last couple of days really spending quality time in the Lord's presence in the morning upon rising, rather than just a few fleeting and unfocused moments.
Yesterday was the memorial of St. Mary Magdalene, and the Office of Readings contained a wonderful reflection on her from St. Gregory the Great, pope. He pointed out Mary's great grief over Jesus, and how distraught she was that his body had been "taken away." In her longing for him, she alone remained behind where his body had been laid, and so became the first to encounter her risen Lord. She recognized him, but not until he called her by name.
So with us. When our hearts burn for everything except our Lord (or, when we allow other things to become lord over us), we do not encounter him so quickly, though he may be appearing to us in so many ways. And it is only when we he calls us by name that we recognize and respond to him.
Today is the memorial of St. Bridget of Sweden, and the Hours contained a wonderful prayer attributed to her based on Christ's passion, death, and resurrection. It mirrors how I've reflected on Jesus' wondrous sacrifice for us, and gives me something to reflect on as I prepare to work on revising Jubilee's Way of the Cross program for next Lent . . .
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Sometimes it really is who you know
I'd deciced that the line down the front fork of my bike might be a crack, which isn't the sort of thing to take chances with. When carbon fiber fails, things can get ugly fast. I can't help thinking about what could've happened had it given out three weeks ago, hurtling downhill at 30+ mph, doubting whether I was gonna make it around the curve, my rear tire starting to slip out from under me as I tried to bring my speed back under control, a farm tractor trundling up the hill in the lane I was certain I was heading for. (Somehow I'd made it; I swear it must've been my guardian angel, because I thought for sure I'd lost it.)
At any rate, last Thursday we were enjoying a couple brews with our friend who'd wiped out earlier the day of my close call, breaking his scapula and collapsing a lung (ouch!). So I figure I'll probe the group's collective expertise concerning my fork. The young lady (she's 25 or so, the daughter of one of my friends) pipes up right away: it seems the cycling shop where she works has the exact fork I've been looking at online, which someone had bought and returned the previous week because it was the wrong size for their bike. It couldn't be sold as new, having already been cut to length; she was certain it'd fit my bike.
Sure enough, I was able to get a clearance price on the exact component I'd decided on, and with installation it cost less than the fork itself would have run me otherwise.
(Thanks, God!)
At any rate, last Thursday we were enjoying a couple brews with our friend who'd wiped out earlier the day of my close call, breaking his scapula and collapsing a lung (ouch!). So I figure I'll probe the group's collective expertise concerning my fork. The young lady (she's 25 or so, the daughter of one of my friends) pipes up right away: it seems the cycling shop where she works has the exact fork I've been looking at online, which someone had bought and returned the previous week because it was the wrong size for their bike. It couldn't be sold as new, having already been cut to length; she was certain it'd fit my bike.
Sure enough, I was able to get a clearance price on the exact component I'd decided on, and with installation it cost less than the fork itself would have run me otherwise.
(Thanks, God!)
Monday, July 14, 2008
Never judge too quickly . . .
In this case, that maxim would apply to the weekend.
I took off Friday afternoon to rent a chain saw (28" bar!) to take care of the rest of the downed tree in my backyard. Well, I simply couldn't get the thing to start; it kept flooding, even after I returned to the rental place for additional instruction. This was basically the same saw I used to drop a tree in my front yard last year, but basically all I accomplished with my afternoon off was a nap, after which I was still ticked off. The whole situation just evoked a lot of emotional baggage from my youth. Finally I decided to pull on my cycling clothes for a vigorous evening ride, which was just what I needed, though with riding so hard I ended up staying up later than I'd planned . . .
Saturday morning brought a nice men's fellowship meeting, and a short rehearsal with a new guitarist who's joining our parish music ministry. Then we had plans to visit an area lake, where some friends were hosting a get-together for our marriage encounter group. We took along some freshly-picked corn to share with everyone; early in the season, so the ears weren't too full, but they certainly were sweet! Spent some fine time on the lake; took lots of pictures, which I haven't had a chance to download yet or I'd include one or two (maybe will add later). There were storms in the area, but only one while we were there, which came through when we were already indoors. The drive home was quite stormy - I don't think a minute of the hour-long drive passed without lightning illuminating the sky, and it absolutely poured for about half the drive - but uneventful.
Yesterday we had a couple new musicians join us at Mass, and welcomed back a young choir member who just finished a year in Latin America; as it happened, we were starting our communion hymn with a verse in Spanish, so she and I did a duet on it. In the afternoon we were going to a festival at one of the area churches, as a friend's band was playing. But it was such an incredibly gorgeous day that I decided to ride my bike, with the mrs. and another friend meeting me there. Nice group, very tight, did a great job covering a broad variety of tunes, from In the Mood to Spanish Eyes to Black Magic Woman. By the time they'd finished, we'd decided it was a fine day for a picnic, too, so I rode the bike to a nice park in the area (which, conveniently, I had to ride past to get home anyway) and staked out a picnic table while everyone else went and got the food and supplies. We hung out there for a couple hours as we cooked and ate and cleaned up. A brisk bike ride home completed the day.
With as wonderful as the weekend turned out, it's hard to believe I was in such a sour mood on Friday.
I took off Friday afternoon to rent a chain saw (28" bar!) to take care of the rest of the downed tree in my backyard. Well, I simply couldn't get the thing to start; it kept flooding, even after I returned to the rental place for additional instruction. This was basically the same saw I used to drop a tree in my front yard last year, but basically all I accomplished with my afternoon off was a nap, after which I was still ticked off. The whole situation just evoked a lot of emotional baggage from my youth. Finally I decided to pull on my cycling clothes for a vigorous evening ride, which was just what I needed, though with riding so hard I ended up staying up later than I'd planned . . .
Saturday morning brought a nice men's fellowship meeting, and a short rehearsal with a new guitarist who's joining our parish music ministry. Then we had plans to visit an area lake, where some friends were hosting a get-together for our marriage encounter group. We took along some freshly-picked corn to share with everyone; early in the season, so the ears weren't too full, but they certainly were sweet! Spent some fine time on the lake; took lots of pictures, which I haven't had a chance to download yet or I'd include one or two (maybe will add later). There were storms in the area, but only one while we were there, which came through when we were already indoors. The drive home was quite stormy - I don't think a minute of the hour-long drive passed without lightning illuminating the sky, and it absolutely poured for about half the drive - but uneventful.
Yesterday we had a couple new musicians join us at Mass, and welcomed back a young choir member who just finished a year in Latin America; as it happened, we were starting our communion hymn with a verse in Spanish, so she and I did a duet on it. In the afternoon we were going to a festival at one of the area churches, as a friend's band was playing. But it was such an incredibly gorgeous day that I decided to ride my bike, with the mrs. and another friend meeting me there. Nice group, very tight, did a great job covering a broad variety of tunes, from In the Mood to Spanish Eyes to Black Magic Woman. By the time they'd finished, we'd decided it was a fine day for a picnic, too, so I rode the bike to a nice park in the area (which, conveniently, I had to ride past to get home anyway) and staked out a picnic table while everyone else went and got the food and supplies. We hung out there for a couple hours as we cooked and ate and cleaned up. A brisk bike ride home completed the day.
With as wonderful as the weekend turned out, it's hard to believe I was in such a sour mood on Friday.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A call to service?
Some dreams are of no apparent significance, or may even seem utter nonsense. Others, upon further consideration, prove unconsciously revelatory, teaching me about my hidden attitudes and feelings. And then there are those that, initially, seem to ring out with an undeniable truth, but really end up preparing me for something entirely unexpected.
This morning, after hitting the snooze button (a once-per-morning ritual for me), I dreamt I was sitting on a sofa with my oldest sister-in-law, whom I also consider a dear friend, waiting for my wife to be ready for us to go somewhere. (For the life of me I don't know where we were; I didn't recognize the house.) With tears in my eyes, I lamented to her: "I know in my mind that the greatest joy we can ever know is to give fully of ourselves. But this knowledge doesn't seem to translate into action in my life." At this point, the second sounding of the radio broke through my slumber, so this was a fresh thought as I awoke.
The sense I had was of service to the poor, the sick, the homeless, etc., rather than of giving myself in love to my wife, which, while I think I'm doing fairly well at, is nonetheless an area in which most of us could still use some improvement.
This dream resonated with several things that I know to be true or have recently experienced. First, true giving of ourselves is, in fact, a gift to us. This has never failed to prove true in my life. Second, as I was mowing the back yard last night I kept thinking, almost as a mantra: of those to whom much is given, much is required. I was struck by how blessed I have been, in so many ways, and how little it seems I give in return. Third, I am still moved by the heart-stirring story I read yesterday of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Home, just outside Turner Field in Atlanta.
Once in the past, such a dream portended an opportunity for service that I might not have recognized without it. Fifteen years ago, a vivid dream of my late grandfather left me with a strong sense of our society's abandonment of the aged. It was the second thing within the week that had called my attention to this issue; I don't really remember what the first was. But that Sunday, there was a notice in our parish bulletin soliciting volunteers to provide geriatric respite care. (Respite caregivers assist family members who are caring for someone who requires constant supervision, by giving them a break of a few hours to run errands or just go relax for a while.) I volunteered, was trained, and ended up serving in place of another caregiver while she recovered from an accident. It "just happened" that my availability coincided with her injury; the change in my work schedule that necessitated the end of my service also "happened" to coincide with her getting clearance to resume her caregiving activity. Still, it was a real joy to care for and get to know my charge, a quite lucid but physically declining 94-year-old man who was being cared for by his rather spry 74-year-old son.
Now I've read this article, and had these thoughts and this dream. It could be that the latter were simply unconscious reactions to the former. Still, I think I'd better be attentive over the next few days for a fresh opportunity to serve.
This morning, after hitting the snooze button (a once-per-morning ritual for me), I dreamt I was sitting on a sofa with my oldest sister-in-law, whom I also consider a dear friend, waiting for my wife to be ready for us to go somewhere. (For the life of me I don't know where we were; I didn't recognize the house.) With tears in my eyes, I lamented to her: "I know in my mind that the greatest joy we can ever know is to give fully of ourselves. But this knowledge doesn't seem to translate into action in my life." At this point, the second sounding of the radio broke through my slumber, so this was a fresh thought as I awoke.
The sense I had was of service to the poor, the sick, the homeless, etc., rather than of giving myself in love to my wife, which, while I think I'm doing fairly well at, is nonetheless an area in which most of us could still use some improvement.
This dream resonated with several things that I know to be true or have recently experienced. First, true giving of ourselves is, in fact, a gift to us. This has never failed to prove true in my life. Second, as I was mowing the back yard last night I kept thinking, almost as a mantra: of those to whom much is given, much is required. I was struck by how blessed I have been, in so many ways, and how little it seems I give in return. Third, I am still moved by the heart-stirring story I read yesterday of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Home, just outside Turner Field in Atlanta.
Once in the past, such a dream portended an opportunity for service that I might not have recognized without it. Fifteen years ago, a vivid dream of my late grandfather left me with a strong sense of our society's abandonment of the aged. It was the second thing within the week that had called my attention to this issue; I don't really remember what the first was. But that Sunday, there was a notice in our parish bulletin soliciting volunteers to provide geriatric respite care. (Respite caregivers assist family members who are caring for someone who requires constant supervision, by giving them a break of a few hours to run errands or just go relax for a while.) I volunteered, was trained, and ended up serving in place of another caregiver while she recovered from an accident. It "just happened" that my availability coincided with her injury; the change in my work schedule that necessitated the end of my service also "happened" to coincide with her getting clearance to resume her caregiving activity. Still, it was a real joy to care for and get to know my charge, a quite lucid but physically declining 94-year-old man who was being cared for by his rather spry 74-year-old son.
Now I've read this article, and had these thoughts and this dream. It could be that the latter were simply unconscious reactions to the former. Still, I think I'd better be attentive over the next few days for a fresh opportunity to serve.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Fortuitous flat?
Background:
Some members of the group I cycle with are planning to do the Ride Across INdiana (RAIN) the weekend after next. We did this ride two years ago: it was the hottest day I've ever cycled, and though I actually felt pretty good at the conclusion of the 160 miles, I really didn't want to do it again, ever! It wasn't so much the heat - after all, that was just the luck of the draw that comes with a July event; last year was much nicer - but I don't think the ride is as well supported as it should be, with only three official rest stops along the way.
But when we did it two years ago, one member of our group suffered a fluke accident just a few miles in and wasn't able to complete the ride. She was really disappointed, and I was willing to do this ride again if she needed a team to ride with (it really isn't a good ride to do by yourself, and it's a good idea to have vehicular support, too). So this is her year, but there are enough others from the group riding that I'm really not needed. I did tell the group I'd train with them for it, though.
So, yesterday we had a 100-120 mile training ride planned, starting at 7 am. Last Sunday we'd ridden about 90, and the path was pretty debris-strewn as a result of a storm the previous evening. As a result, three of us had gotten flat tires last week during the ride, including me. I'd used what I thought were my last spare tube and last CO2 cartridge getting back on the road, and completely forgot to replenish my supplies during the week.
As I go downstairs yesterday morning, I'm beginning to feel as if it's a bad idea to ride without being properly provisioned, especially as we'd had storms again on Saturday evening. I thought the decision was taken out of my hands, because when I got to my bike, my front tire was again flat. But the tube wasn't completely out of air; it was more of a slow leak. And it turned out I had an extra tube and three spare cartridges in my supply box.
Now things get odd. I can't call the group to let them know I'm running late, as everyone's phone numbers are in my cell phone. The display has been gradually going out, and it has finally reached the point where I simply can't get it to come up. (Why I haven't had it replaced is its own long story!) But I'm pretty sure they'll call to check on me when I don't show up, as they're expecting me to be there. I pull my phone out and set it on the sofa next to me where I'm working on my tire, so I can grab it quickly if it rings - not noticing that I haven't turned it back on after our marriage encounter meeting last night. By the time I get my tire fixed and pumped back up, I'm leaving the house ten minutes after the group was scheduled to start riding, and it takes me a minimum of six minutes to ride to our starting point. But I know where they're headed, and so I start on my way, pushing my pace pretty well. I know that, by myself, I'm not likely to match the group's pace, though there are a couple riders who are probably slower than I am, so I might catch the rearguard. But they'll probably stop for a few minutes at the first break area, about a dozen miles from my house. I figure maybe I can catch up with them there.
Except they either didn't stop there or were gone already, so rather than stopping I press onward. Now I figure it will be the 25 mile point before I have a shot at joining up with them. But crossing an intersection about three miles further along, I'm surprised to see familiar jerseys and faces stopped on the other side of the bridge ahead. One of my friends is calling out to me to "Be careful! That the bridge is like ice!" which confuses the hell out of me as the temperature is in the 60's. Then I see that a couple of them are bleeding, and one is laying down in the grass beside the path.
It seems that wet algae growth on the wooden bridge had made it extremely slick. One rider went down crossing the bridge, followed by at least two behind him. The guy laying on the ground when I arrived was the most seriously hurt; we found out later that he incurred a broken shoulder blade and collapsed lung. Other than that it was mostly a matter of a few scrapes. If I'd been with the group, I'd have probably been right in the midst of the pile-up.
(BTW, I ended up putting in over 115 miles on the day. And it was a good thing I was equipped for a flat, as I ended up getting another one.)
Some members of the group I cycle with are planning to do the Ride Across INdiana (RAIN) the weekend after next. We did this ride two years ago: it was the hottest day I've ever cycled, and though I actually felt pretty good at the conclusion of the 160 miles, I really didn't want to do it again, ever! It wasn't so much the heat - after all, that was just the luck of the draw that comes with a July event; last year was much nicer - but I don't think the ride is as well supported as it should be, with only three official rest stops along the way.
But when we did it two years ago, one member of our group suffered a fluke accident just a few miles in and wasn't able to complete the ride. She was really disappointed, and I was willing to do this ride again if she needed a team to ride with (it really isn't a good ride to do by yourself, and it's a good idea to have vehicular support, too). So this is her year, but there are enough others from the group riding that I'm really not needed. I did tell the group I'd train with them for it, though.
So, yesterday we had a 100-120 mile training ride planned, starting at 7 am. Last Sunday we'd ridden about 90, and the path was pretty debris-strewn as a result of a storm the previous evening. As a result, three of us had gotten flat tires last week during the ride, including me. I'd used what I thought were my last spare tube and last CO2 cartridge getting back on the road, and completely forgot to replenish my supplies during the week.
As I go downstairs yesterday morning, I'm beginning to feel as if it's a bad idea to ride without being properly provisioned, especially as we'd had storms again on Saturday evening. I thought the decision was taken out of my hands, because when I got to my bike, my front tire was again flat. But the tube wasn't completely out of air; it was more of a slow leak. And it turned out I had an extra tube and three spare cartridges in my supply box.
Now things get odd. I can't call the group to let them know I'm running late, as everyone's phone numbers are in my cell phone. The display has been gradually going out, and it has finally reached the point where I simply can't get it to come up. (Why I haven't had it replaced is its own long story!) But I'm pretty sure they'll call to check on me when I don't show up, as they're expecting me to be there. I pull my phone out and set it on the sofa next to me where I'm working on my tire, so I can grab it quickly if it rings - not noticing that I haven't turned it back on after our marriage encounter meeting last night. By the time I get my tire fixed and pumped back up, I'm leaving the house ten minutes after the group was scheduled to start riding, and it takes me a minimum of six minutes to ride to our starting point. But I know where they're headed, and so I start on my way, pushing my pace pretty well. I know that, by myself, I'm not likely to match the group's pace, though there are a couple riders who are probably slower than I am, so I might catch the rearguard. But they'll probably stop for a few minutes at the first break area, about a dozen miles from my house. I figure maybe I can catch up with them there.
Except they either didn't stop there or were gone already, so rather than stopping I press onward. Now I figure it will be the 25 mile point before I have a shot at joining up with them. But crossing an intersection about three miles further along, I'm surprised to see familiar jerseys and faces stopped on the other side of the bridge ahead. One of my friends is calling out to me to "Be careful! That the bridge is like ice!" which confuses the hell out of me as the temperature is in the 60's. Then I see that a couple of them are bleeding, and one is laying down in the grass beside the path.
It seems that wet algae growth on the wooden bridge had made it extremely slick. One rider went down crossing the bridge, followed by at least two behind him. The guy laying on the ground when I arrived was the most seriously hurt; we found out later that he incurred a broken shoulder blade and collapsed lung. Other than that it was mostly a matter of a few scrapes. If I'd been with the group, I'd have probably been right in the midst of the pile-up.
(BTW, I ended up putting in over 115 miles on the day. And it was a good thing I was equipped for a flat, as I ended up getting another one.)
Friday, June 13, 2008
Some cheese with my whine?
Had a birthday this week. The day itself was pretty nice. Rest of the week has been mildly sucky, going back to the day before.
Sunday morning, early, had a group bike ride. One fairly newbie had never been on this route before, started having heart rate issues and fell behind the group. I hung back to make sure he’d be able to find his way back home. When we met up with the group for coffee (since I knew they’d been waiting already, I ordered an iced mocha, which went down fast and really hit the spot), I’d ensured the new guy knew how to get home, and was really looking forward to pushing it with the rest of the group. Just after we started, I thought I heard something hit the street. I quickly looked down, but didn’t notice anything amiss with the bike. About a block later the guy behind me pipes up: “Hey, did somebody drop a speedometer or something?” Sure enough, I’d dropped my cyclocomputer (just a couple square inches), which I’d pulled back slightly from its bracket when I’d stopped and forgotten to reseat. “Oh, [expletive deleted],” I said, turning around hoping it had survived the fall and bounces, as the group pressed on, either not realizing or not caring that I’d run into a problem. After two loops back to look for it, and with the group long out of sight, I gave up and started on my way. I hoped to catch sight of them to finish the ride together, figuring they might’ve realized something was up and waited on me, but never did spot them.
The further I rode, the angrier I got. By the time I got home I was totally pissed off. To tell you the truth, it affected me all week. The computer was probably broken as soon as it hit the pavement, but since a replacement is going to cost at least $30 (if I don’t upgrade to a heart rate monitor, which I really am not ready to do), it would have been nice to have recovered it if possible, and four extra pair of eyes couldn’t have hurt. Lacking that, I was really looking forward to the group ride, which I’d missed out on the first part of by hanging back for the other guy’s benefit.
This is still not resolved. Nobody has sent me an e-mail asking me what happened. I can’t really send out an e-mail about it without being a whiner. For that matter, nobody dropped a line letting me know when they were riding midweek; I didn’t get one in, either, as I did yard work on Wed and worked late to make up for taking time off for an eye appt on Thurs. It looks like we're riding again on Sunday, though.
The eye appointment was another issue. I finally got contacts again last week, for the first time in 20 years. They’re bifocal, which are supposed to take some adjusting to. My distance vision is great with them, but I can’t focus on anything closer than three feet yet. Well, I only worked one day after getting them last week, spending last Thursday and Friday volunteering at this year's Habitat house, so I haven’t gotten into the habit of putting the things in each morning. So Monday, I just habitually slapped on my glasses and headed off to work. I put the contacts in when I got home, but most of my close-in reading happens during the work day. As a result, after one day at work with them in followed by five days without them, Tuesday sucked. I could barely see my computer screen. Of course, I can’t put on a pair of reading glasses, as that will screw up the adjustment process. Wednesday was a little better, until I apparently scratched my eye with the corner of a fingernail taking them out in the evening. Now on Saturday I'll be back to square one on the adjustment process, as I’m not supposed to put them back in until then.
Sorry. I know I’m abundantly blessed, and this has been nothing but a big gripe session. I mean, my home isn’t under several feet of water like my midwest neighbors to the west. I still have a good job and a wonderful family. Just blowing off some steam.
Sunday morning, early, had a group bike ride. One fairly newbie had never been on this route before, started having heart rate issues and fell behind the group. I hung back to make sure he’d be able to find his way back home. When we met up with the group for coffee (since I knew they’d been waiting already, I ordered an iced mocha, which went down fast and really hit the spot), I’d ensured the new guy knew how to get home, and was really looking forward to pushing it with the rest of the group. Just after we started, I thought I heard something hit the street. I quickly looked down, but didn’t notice anything amiss with the bike. About a block later the guy behind me pipes up: “Hey, did somebody drop a speedometer or something?” Sure enough, I’d dropped my cyclocomputer (just a couple square inches), which I’d pulled back slightly from its bracket when I’d stopped and forgotten to reseat. “Oh, [expletive deleted],” I said, turning around hoping it had survived the fall and bounces, as the group pressed on, either not realizing or not caring that I’d run into a problem. After two loops back to look for it, and with the group long out of sight, I gave up and started on my way. I hoped to catch sight of them to finish the ride together, figuring they might’ve realized something was up and waited on me, but never did spot them.
The further I rode, the angrier I got. By the time I got home I was totally pissed off. To tell you the truth, it affected me all week. The computer was probably broken as soon as it hit the pavement, but since a replacement is going to cost at least $30 (if I don’t upgrade to a heart rate monitor, which I really am not ready to do), it would have been nice to have recovered it if possible, and four extra pair of eyes couldn’t have hurt. Lacking that, I was really looking forward to the group ride, which I’d missed out on the first part of by hanging back for the other guy’s benefit.
This is still not resolved. Nobody has sent me an e-mail asking me what happened. I can’t really send out an e-mail about it without being a whiner. For that matter, nobody dropped a line letting me know when they were riding midweek; I didn’t get one in, either, as I did yard work on Wed and worked late to make up for taking time off for an eye appt on Thurs. It looks like we're riding again on Sunday, though.
The eye appointment was another issue. I finally got contacts again last week, for the first time in 20 years. They’re bifocal, which are supposed to take some adjusting to. My distance vision is great with them, but I can’t focus on anything closer than three feet yet. Well, I only worked one day after getting them last week, spending last Thursday and Friday volunteering at this year's Habitat house, so I haven’t gotten into the habit of putting the things in each morning. So Monday, I just habitually slapped on my glasses and headed off to work. I put the contacts in when I got home, but most of my close-in reading happens during the work day. As a result, after one day at work with them in followed by five days without them, Tuesday sucked. I could barely see my computer screen. Of course, I can’t put on a pair of reading glasses, as that will screw up the adjustment process. Wednesday was a little better, until I apparently scratched my eye with the corner of a fingernail taking them out in the evening. Now on Saturday I'll be back to square one on the adjustment process, as I’m not supposed to put them back in until then.
Sorry. I know I’m abundantly blessed, and this has been nothing but a big gripe session. I mean, my home isn’t under several feet of water like my midwest neighbors to the west. I still have a good job and a wonderful family. Just blowing off some steam.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Deliverance
"I will call on the Lord, and I will be saved." Ps 17
Usually in my morning prayer time I find myself focused on the readings, but some mornings there is something in one of the Psalms that just really catches my attention. This was one of those mornings.
When we pray the Lord's prayer, we offer this petition (among others) for ourselves: "And lead us not into temptation."
Why do we so often find ourselves struggling against the same temptations? Looking at my life, I'm certain that every area of long-term struggle has been one in which I haven't really called on the Lord, or haven't trusted in the way God has wanted to deliver me.
I think this ties into previous posts. The simple (to say) prayer "Thy will be done" holds too little meaning for us. We don't want really want God's will be done. We want what we want, rather than trusting that what God wants for us is far greater.
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. Help me to call on you, especially at those times when I least want what I think you want for me. I know if I do, I will be saved.
Usually in my morning prayer time I find myself focused on the readings, but some mornings there is something in one of the Psalms that just really catches my attention. This was one of those mornings.
When we pray the Lord's prayer, we offer this petition (among others) for ourselves: "And lead us not into temptation."
Why do we so often find ourselves struggling against the same temptations? Looking at my life, I'm certain that every area of long-term struggle has been one in which I haven't really called on the Lord, or haven't trusted in the way God has wanted to deliver me.
I think this ties into previous posts. The simple (to say) prayer "Thy will be done" holds too little meaning for us. We don't want really want God's will be done. We want what we want, rather than trusting that what God wants for us is far greater.
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. Help me to call on you, especially at those times when I least want what I think you want for me. I know if I do, I will be saved.
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