Thanksgiving Day 2012

(Yes, 2012. I wrote this last year on Thanksgiving morning.)

The least of Your kindnesses would have proved to me that You are good,
for the least of Your kindnesses is more than my merits should have earned.
But You have given me multitudes of kindnesses, kindness upon kindness,
to me, the enemy of You.

And not only this, but once upon a time You clothed Yourself with flesh,
came down to see me, Your enemy, and took pity upon this poor man.
Suffered the shame that had been decreed for me, took my works as Your own,
and gave Your works to me.

This is the greatest kindness that could ever be; it was enough and more.
Yet still You shower me with multitudes of kindnesses, kindness upon kindness,
to me, once the enemy of You.
How shall I not be thankful?

At 54

This morning I had a significant thought.

It escapes me now.

Morning Glory

Glory to God in the highest!

Bless the Lord, O my soul;
let all that is within me bless His holy name!

My mind gropes for words to express something bigger than it can grasp:
the glory, the majesty, the wonder of the Most High.
Something I can't see, something I can only faintly imagine.
Something that I fear I do not love, because the only things I love
are earthly, sensual, things I can touch and see.

Yet I find hidden in the folds of my heart something curious, something wonderful:
I do love God.
I am frankly amazed to find it there, but there it is:
I do love God.

Me, stupid, foul and filthy me—
and He, great and glorious Creator, Redeemer, Justifier,
Saver of the foul and filthy.

My heart overflows,
for at least as long as I can keep it from wandering away among the dandelions.
But while I have it here, captive for a moment,
let me pray.

Happily I find that God Himself has provided words I may use,
provided them in the text of His holy Book.

My Father in Heaven:
Holy is Your name.  Holy!
May Your kingdom come, Your will be done
in the frail dust of my life just as before Your throne.
Give me what You know I need to survive this day.
Forgive me, O Lord, forgive me my sins!
For Jesus' sake I forgive others too.
And lead me not into temptation—
(yes, Lord, I'm praying that again)—
but deliver me from evil:
the evil of the world, the evil of my own flesh,
the evil of Satan himself.
You can do this, and to You all praise and obedience is due;
for the kingdom is Yours,
the power is Yours,
the glory, all glory, is Yours—
both now and forevermore.

Amen.

A Kiss from Rachel

O Lord, satisfy me with Your goodness!
Turn my heart away from pursuing worthless things!

I love trinkets, I love doodads, I love gewgaws.
Wood, hay, and stubble?
I have an entire kingdom made of cardboard.

"When I became a man, I put away childish things."
—so spoke Saint Paul.  Was he younger then than I am now,
looking backward at the time when he became a man?
And here I sit, surrounded by—engulfed, overwhelmed by—
my childish things.
Old fool that I am!
Will the day ever come, the day when I will be a man?
Or am I fated to be forever ensnared
by the twisted bands of my iniquity?
Must it take some colossal effort of the will,
some titanic throwing off of the old man?
—something I don't have the energy to muster.
Or shall I sit here, feigning patience,
while the imps prick and poke me?

While I writhe and moan in the
uncomfortably plain view of all my sins,
still my heart finds its rest in these words:

"My grace is sufficient for thee."