Forgiveness and the Life of God

"The God of Jesus Christ is the only god that man has ever heard of, who loves sinners."

- Brennan Manning

When we consider forgiveness and the Christian life, we begin and end with the broader story of who the Christian God is, and what he has done for us in and through Jesus Christ. Christianity is not simply a way of being religious, or a program of self-improvement. The content of the Christian Faith is the story that God tells about the world and his purposes for it, and the practices of the Faith are grounded in what God has done to heal and redeem the world through Jesus.

This Story offers an unflinchingly realistic view of human nature, and the way we live our lives. We are a much loved people, made in the image and likeness of God. Even as we bear the dignity of God in our own bodies, this likeness is broken and marred by rebellion. Not only do we choose flight from God and willfully engage in greed, envy, lust and hatred, but we are born with this proclivity, a bent-ness toward seeking our own way. The shorthand word for this is "sin," a theological suitcase that gathers up the evil we commit as well as our love for evil.

This is why the "good news" is so good: the God of Jesus Christ knows, loves, and forgives all manner of sinners. We who would murder our neighbors, steal from our loved ones, and who refuse to hear the name of God, are deeply, tenderly loved by that very God. Saint Paul explained in his letter to the Roman church,

"...while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person — though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die — but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5.6-8, ESV)

This is the invitation to a new kind of life: we wounded, broken rebels have been invited home to share a life with God as his own daughters and sons. Jesus Christ the God-Man bore the cost of our hatred, rebellion, and separation from God in his own body. When we ask what forgiveness looks like, and what it means, we look up to see our God crucified on a hill outside the city walls, bleeding and naked, forsaken by his friends and despised by his enemies. To forgive us, God bore the cost of humiliation, suffering and death.

Upon this account, we can make some observations about forgiveness.

Forgiveness is costly. Often and even daily, we are called upon to forgive and release small slights. Someone may overlook us, or insult us by poorly chosen and thoughtless words. Other times we are called upon to forgive deliberate insults, backbiting, and even physical violence. However, nursing a grudge can keep me safe. Nursing a grudge keeps me vigilant, ever watchful to be certain that the offending party can never take advantage of me again. Forgiveness is costly, because in offering it I would refuse to make "never being hurt like that again" the most important value of my life. If I were to make that refusal, I would trade in my defensiveness for trust in the saving and healing God. This is not a trust that believes, "God won't let this happen again," but rather, "I am obeying, because I believe God that there are worse things than letting this happen again." The Christian account of human life maintains that it is better to be wronged than to wrong another, and that it is better to suffer than to become hateful and defensive. This account insists that it is ultimately better for the individual human life to suffer like and with Christ rather than to fight against the enemy.

Next: Forgiveness precedes repentance.

Shorter Christian Prayer

Shorter Christian Prayer: The Four-Week Psalter of the Liturgy of the Hours Containing Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer with Selections for the Entire Year. New York: Catholic Book Pub. Co, 1988.

Shorter Christian Prayer is a condensation of Christian Prayer, which is itself a short version of the gigantic four volume set, Liturgy of the Hours. SCP is oriented around the Psalms, and provides readings and guided intercessory prayers according to the Christian year, along with additional material for major feasts.

What I Like. This book is small and affordable, retailing at $13.95 each.

What I Don't Like. Nothing, really. Using seasonal time can be just a little unwieldy at first, but once again, once you've learned how to use a particular breviary, it's second nature.

Bottom Line. This is an excellent book for individual and group use. Some believers may be uncomfortable by some basic Roman Catholic theological commitments (e.g. the Blessed Virgin Mary is often referred to as a model for discipleship, because she is, and the Pope is occasionally prayed for, because he ought to be).

Divine Hours

Primary Volumes

Tickle, Phyllis. The Divine Hours: Prayers for Summertime. New York: Doubleday, 2000.
_____. The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime. New York: Doubleday, 2000.
_____. The Divine Hours: Prayers for Springtime : a Manual for Prayer. New York: Doubleday, 2001.

Supplemental Material

Tickle, Phyllis. Christmastide: Prayers for Advent Through Epiphany from The Divine Hours. New York: Galilee, 2003.
_____. Eastertide: Prayers for Lent Through Easter from the Divine Hours. New York: Galilee, 2004.
_____. The Night Offices: Prayers for the Hours from Sunset to Sunrise. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006.
_____. The Divine Hours. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. [Pocket edition.]

The Divine Hours is a multi-volume handbook for fixed hour prayer modeled set of prayer offices ordered according to the traditional monastic hours, condensed into four prayer times throughout the day. Ecumenical in scope, much of the material is taken from the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer, with the addition of poems, hymns, and short meditations taken from the broader Christian faith (i.e. Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox writers). The offices can be said in 5 to 10 minutes, and are ideal for slow reading and meditation, especially lectio divina.

Go here for Tickle's introduction to the practice of "fixed hour prayer."

What I Liked: This breviary is extremely user-friendly, and the type is readable and attractive. The offices observe major feast days and commemorations of the Christian year, and is even available for the Kindle.

What I Didn't Like: Only the paperbacks of the original three volume work are presently in print. I still have the older hardcovers, so I have no idea how sturdy and long lasting the paperbacks might be, as they are each nearly 700 pages.


The Bottom Line: This is an excellent book for beginners to the practice or for folks who want short offices with a very loose form, and is the most simple and user friendly breviary that I've used. If you want to follow the Christian year more carefully, consider Celebrating Daily Prayer or the full Liturgy of the Hours.

Celebrating Daily Prayer

Church of England. Celebrating Daily Prayer: The New Pocket Version of Celebrating Common Prayer. London: Morehouse, 2005. Amazon link.

In 2000, the Church of England published a new English liturgy meant to supplement and expand upon the theology and liturgy presented in the classical Book of Common Prayer (1662), in contemporary English. This volume is called Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church of England. I have great appreciation for this book of services, as do some of my pastor friends in other Christian traditions.

The Anglican Franciscans of Great Britain created a version of this liturgy in a little breviary meant for personal and corporate daily prayer, entitled Celebrating Common Prayer (CCP), now called Celebrating Daily Prayer (CDP). The former edition was small and black, and the new edition is larger and red. This is important because the text inside is similarly formatted, but different (the two cannot be used together in group prayers).

The volume at hand, Celebrating Daily Prayer, offers short offices that can prayed in fifteen minutes. It includes materials for ordinary time and all of the seasons of the Church year. Each office begins with an opening prayer themed according to the Christian year, continues with a selection from the Psalter, a canticle (a song from the New or Old Testament that is traditionally chanted), a short selection from the Bible, and another canticle (either the Benedictus or the Magnificat). The office concludes with both free and written intercession, a closing collect, and the Lord's Prayer.

Supplemental devotional material includes additional prayers and collects, the Angelus Domini, Graces for meals, a cycle of intercessions, and special prayer services for thanksgiving, observing a death, departures, Eucharistic devotions, prayers at the foot of the Cross, and several others.

What I Like. This breviary is one of my favorites for several reasons. It's wonderful for beginners, because of its simplicity and variation. It's rare to find one that's both simple to use and allows disciples to observe the breadth of the Christian year. Not just an Office book, this is suited as a full-on devotional manual, with its offerings of supplemental occasional material, traditional prayers, and descriptions of the Calendar.

What I Don't Like. It's a little pricey, retailing for $29.95. Amazon Marketplace can offer some deals, however. Also, it does not contain the entire Psalter.

The Bottom Line. This is perfect for beginners who want a quick prayer time with a lot of Scripture themed around the Christian year.

The St. Francis / St. Clare Prayer Book

Sweeney, Jon M. The St. Clare Prayer Book: Listening for God's Leading. Brewster, Mass: Paraclete Press, 2007. $14.95

_____. The St. Francis Prayer Book: A Guide to Deepen Your Spiritual Life. Brewster, Mass: Paraclete Press, 2004 15.95


These two prayer books are similarly formatted, along two different themes. They contain an introduction and biographical chapter that commend the life and witness of Francis and Clare of Assisi, followed by short offices (prayer services). The offices can each be prayed slowly and meditatively in ten to fifteen minutes. There is one separate morning prayer and one evening prayer office for each of seven days, and a quick compline (night prayer) that's the same for each night. Each day includes collects (set prayers) quotations, and Scripture readings that enlarge upon a particular theme in the spiritual life.

In the St. Francis volume, these are themes in Franciscan spirituality:

• Following Christ
• Disregard for possessions
• Peace and care in human relationships
• Love for all creatures
• Preaching the Good News
• Passion more important than learning
• Joyful simplicity

The St. Clare volume is oriented toward discernment, or "listening prayer":

• Embracing Christ
• Purity
• Walking the path of conversion
• Listening with the heart
• Adoring Christ
• True discipleship
• Redefining family

What I Like. It's important that a breviary (book of short prayers) be accessible and easy to use. While they are paperbacks, they are well bound and attractively designed. The type is reasonably large and the different sections are easy to read. Finding one's place requires only to know what day of the week it is, and the prayer offices require no flipping back and forth. They are also very attractively priced.

What I Don't Like. It is a common poetic device of Franciscans to thank God in all circumstances by offering prayer of praise to Lady Poverty, et al. You know, like Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and all of that. I don't imagine that Francis, Clare, or any of the Order's members suppose there to be an actual heavenly persona named Poverty, whom we would care to address in real terms. I understand the poetic device and find it pleasant. Christian prayer, however, is addressed to the Father, with the Son, through the Holy Spirit (leaving aside the question of intercessions to departed Saints). The Psalms seem to entreat Creation to praise God along with the worshippers, but when I'm teaching beginning disciples to prayer, I don't want to have to go through the trouble of explaining/defending that particular literary device.

Bottom line: The introductory material provides an excellent popular account of these Christian saints and their contributions to the spiritual life of the wider Church. The book itself is easy to use for prayers, aesthetically attractive, and well-priced. If you don't mind the aforementioned literary device, these volumes are an excellent gateway to the practice of regular structured prayer as well as Franciscan Christian spirituality.

How to Live in an Intentional Christian Community

I’ve spent the last five years living in and among what are often called “intentional Christian communities.” The use of this phrase typically implies that a group of people share their lives together in a number of structured ways with the common goal of greater personal and corporate faithfulness to Jesus Christ. These communities have been:

• The Vine and Branches Christian Community, Lexington, Kentucky
• The hOME Community, Oxford, UK
• Saint Patrick’s Anglican Church, Lexington, KY
• The Priory of St Columba, Saint Patrick’s Church
• My own household

This involvement hasn’t often been exclusive; some of the communities overlap (St Patrick and St Columba) and my time in some of them has overlapped as well (VBCC, hOME, St Patrick). While there was some diversity in the particular practices of these communities, this is what they all had in common:

Learning to Pray. We came together to pray to the Lord for ourselves, one another, and the world he’s teaching us to love. We prayed our hopes. We prayed our doubts. We prayed our joys, our pains, our fear, and our despair. We learned to do this by praying the Psalms, and reading the Scripture together.

We learned to do this by sitting down together, and not running away. We didn’t learn to do this from the latest awesome book on the religion bestseller list. We learned to say to God, “I’m sorry.” “Thank you.” “Yes.”

Learning to Love. We ate meals together. We learned to fight, and not run away. We learned to say to one another, “Thank you.” “I’m sorry.” “I forgive you.” “Let’s do this together.” In learning to say these things, I became the kind of person who can say these things, and mean it.

Living in this way didn’t necessarily make the Christian life easier – in fact, it showed me quite a bit about how difficult it is. What this way of life did was show me what it looked like to really love God, and to know what it is to be loved by God. It broadened my imagination to see and know and feel what it’s like to be a forgiving person. This life teaches me that I can suffer with and for people around me without running away. Belonging with a people like this, and living life in this way has taught me that people really can become like Jesus, and that it’s possible to live our lives without trying to protect ourselves from the people we’d like to love us.

By all means, embrace “community.” But I’m always going to ask you these questions:

• Do you eat?
• Do you pray?
• Do you hold your own feet to the ground?

If you can – if you will – it will make all the difference.

How to Use the Christian Bible

Use only as directed.

1. Pray, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
2. Pray a psalm.
3. Read a long passage of Scripture.
4. Say "Thank you."
5. Say "I'm sorry."
6. Pray, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

7. Be less of a jerk to people. Refer to what you learned in steps 1, 3, and 6 for guidance in this.
8. Perform steps 4 and 5 again, in the company of others.

Practices to avoid

- Applying the lessons of Step 3 to other peoples lives, without their permission or cooperation
- Reading teeny, tiny excerpts of Scripture that sound nice
- Performing Step 3 without the other steps
- Using the Christian Bible without the support of a loving, caring community

Results may vary, but probably not by very much.

Lent: A Short Introduction

I published this short introduction to the Christian season of Lent in the campus newspaper last week.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.”

Christians around the world heard these words last week as they began the season we call “Lent.” Keeping the “Christian year” – marking time according to God’s saving work – arises from the conviction that twenty centuries ago, God raised up the executed insurrectionist, Jesus of Nazareth, and enthroned him as the world’s Lord. All of life is oriented to this affirmation: that God loves the world, grieves its brokenness and sin, and has graciously acted to redeem it in and through Jesus the Christ. Marking time in this way is one aspect of that orientation.

The Christian year follows the life of Jesus, and tells the story of the world through that lens. Before Jesus began his public ministry of healing the sick, casting out demons, and proclaiming the arrival of God’s Reign, he spent 40 days fasting in the wilderness. This echoes a theme that runs throughout the Scriptures: the number 40 represents a special time of refining the soul for the service of God.

Now, in the 40 days before Easter, we enter the last days of Jesus’ ministry, when he begin to orient himself and his disciples to his vocation of suffering and death for the sake of Israel and the entire world. The story has taken a dark turn, and we join the Master as he sets his face resolutely toward Jerusalem. This is why a cross, draped in penitential purple, stands above Giddings Lawn. The rhythm of our lives has taken on a cadence of mourning and hope as we walk in “bright sadness,” journeying with Jesus through his suffering and into Easter’s light.

As we consider Lenten disciplines, we ask, “what can I do to set my own face toward Jerusalem?” What are the sinful patterns in my life that need to die, and what does God wish to heal? Lent is not meant for Herculean efforts of spiritual zeal - like boot camp for Jesus - but for a time of greater intentionality. We rededicate ourselves in practical ways to learning more deeply the Way of Life found in Christ. Our goal is not a particular spiritual experience, but to be with the Lord and offer to him our readiness to turn in unexpected directions, to listen to words we would not have anticipated, and answer yes to God in ways we would not have imagined.

The time of Great Lent is upon us. May it be a holy one as we walk into the dark places of ourselves and discover that the Lord Himself leads us into the stillness of our solitary fears, to sit with us, to heal us, and to absorb all of our darkness into his Cross.

Christian Education Projects

I'm back, I think. Anybody still out there? I've started my new job at library technician at the Georgetown College LRC, and I've been appointed as missioner for the college and town. You'll see my promotion soon at LOLAnglicans (a-puh-STOL-ik Xianity: let me show you it).

More on that to follow. In the meantime, here are some of the sessions I've been working on for our occasional Christian education work:

• Fear and Loathing in the Spiritual Life: How to Practice an Incredibly Rigorous Fast
  
  
• Listening: The Practice of Centering Prayer
  
  
• Respect Your Mother: Praying the Angelus
  
  
• Respect Your Mother, Session 2: Building a Grotto
  
  
• Lectio Divina // Holy Reading
  
  
• "Intinction Cup? What Intinction Cup?" An Introduction to Eucharistic Piety
  
  
• Ora Pro Nobis: Sucking up to the Saints (bring $15 for holy cards and Chinese-made ceramic statues)
  
  
• Praying the Office

There is a wideness in God's mercy

Ordinary Time

The New Testament passage for last night's mass was 1 Corinthians 13, the "love chapter." Alan noted that very often, preachers have taken the opportunity for a certain kind of moralizing - a nice ecclesial guilt trip along the lines of "I must always be" these things, or I am something less than a good and faithful disciple. Rather, it is a description of ...love! As such, it is also an indication of the character of God.

It reminded me of something else the Abbot told me once: when the NT entreats us to be loving and forgiving and patient and kind, it is not indicating that we can or that we should snap our fingers and somehow just "be" those things in some kind of abstract way. These things, after all, mean very little in the abstract. We must hear the call to engage in the concrete practices that will form us as loving, patient, kind and forgiving people. "Be forgiving" does not mean "will yourself to think nice thoughts," but rather, "take this opportunity to do forgiveness now."

In a personal level, the question becomes, what can I do today that contributes to a life of compassion? Of forgiveness? Of chastity?

On the broader, "big picture" communal level, we ask what it means to live this way as the Church in the context of the culture. I will continue to insist that the only legitimate orientation for the Church in the world is a Eucharistic one: we are the Body of Christ, broken, and the Blood of Christ, poured out so that others might have life. When Christians insist to the broader world that their "rights" (and even social privileges) be respected, we reveal our desire to be the masters of other people, rather than to be broken for their sake, after the calling of Jesus the Christ. Jesus refused to treat enemies like enemies, and did not refuse to be broken at their hands, for their own salvation and healing. We who were enemies of God have been healed and reconciled by the suffering love of God. When we refuse the suffering of love - and the suffering of rejection that is part and parcel with it - we set ourselves up against the divine economy of healing and salvation.

The culture wars are bad, mmkay?

Back to the first question; it's time to go say Morning Prayer.

Thinking about Prayer

Ordinary Time

Saturday's Herald-Leader carried an article by Terry Lee Goodrich on Baylor's recent survey on how people pray. I was surprised to find that a very small percentage (5%) of their respondents prayed to Jesus as opposed to "sometimes" to Jesus, but primarily to "God."

Given the wording, I wonder just what the survey asked?

Of course, 9% said "no one special."

Poor Jesus, I guess he's not as popular as he used to be?

A friend once told me about a seminary class in which the professor took a survey of who prayed to God the Father, and who prayed to God the Son.

"Most of you are closet Arians," the professor concluded. The prof was probably kidding around (otherwise that would be more than a little harsh!), but it's an interesting observation.

I know it's normal piety to pray to "God in Jesus' name," but that always sounded kind of weird to me. When I pray, it's primarily to Jesus by name. It's not a way of being spiritually fastidious - I'm not worried particularly about praying like an Arian - it's just what I do. My other usual invocation would be to the Trinity, especially; that is a question of being picky about theology. Occasionally I will invoke the other persons of the Trinity alone, but usually it's "Jesus" or the "Trinitarian God."

But I never pray to "God."

I guess I'm kind of henotheist, and I want to be really clear about which god.

Heh.

To whom do you pray?

Oh, and Paul Prather had this really neat column, too: "Being a liberal isn't so bad - but I'm not one."

Which reminds me, if you've not read this, you should. I consider it a public service: "Why 'Liberal' Really Is a 'Dirty' Word."

(Yeah, I do think highly of myself.)

Technorati Tags: prayer, jesus

A Theology of Vestments?

Ordinary Time

Let's talk about vestments: specifically, the pretty frocks that priests and acolytes wear during the divine liturgy as it is performed by traditional congregations. Just to say, I realize that from the way I talk and write, folks often assume that I'm censing the high altar at a cathedral every weekend. While I certainly think that would be fun and poignant, I don't. I am, when it's all said and done, part of a house church. And alas, we have no liturgical dress, and won't be getting any anytime soon.

Why is special dress for the celebrant and assistants (essentially the "lead worshippers," if I might use the language of evangelicals) a good idea? I think the answer is both theological and anthropological. People engage in ritual for important observances. Particular modes of dress are part of that: it expresses reverence (or irreverence!) and makes the statement: "this is something extraordinary we're doing, and it deserves to be attended to in an extraordinary way." To simply refuse special rituals and dress for special observances is to make a particular political statement - one that I disagree with rather vehemently. When some people complain about liturgical dress, it sounds to me like, "Why should we act like the Eucharist is some kind of special observance?"

That being said, when I visited St. Aldates (Oxford) and a young woman ascended the platform in a sweater and jeans and started chatting, and by the end of the little speech she had moved into the prayer of consecration, I was shocked. It's not merely because she was wearing "civvies," or that the words she spoke were to some degree improvised and extemporaneous (I don't think there's anything wrong with those things as such), but because the way I "read" the entire action was, "I don't think this is a big deal, and you guys shouldn't think this is a big deal either." For a reason I can't quite put my finger on, it seems to me that in a larger, more "public" setting, reverence must be far more intentional than that to be really reverant.

At the same time, I never see the way hOME or VBCC attends to the Mysteries to be anything less than reverent - even though there are no vestments in sight. In the smaller setting - kind of public but actually quite intimate - full on eucharistic vestments would seem out of place. For some reason, I think that "simplicity" is reverant in a small setting, but irreverant in a larger one. Does that make sense?

As for the pastoral issue, let me explain that it's not "pretty frocks" that I'm really talking about. Priests generally wear stoles when performing priestly functions. Visualize a simple stole here, rather than a medieval carnival. I think it is at the very least pastorally useful because it makes the statement that the chief consecrator is functioning as a priest. In those moments, the celebrant isn't just my friend (let's call him) Bill, but Bill the priest. Bill's personality isn't erased (now, who would want that?), but ritual action and vestments are visual indicators of the theological reality that this man through his functioning as a priest empowers and even enables the people to present themselves to God in the Sacrifice. As chief consecrator Bill the priest has a divine authority to ask God to do what he does in that moment for the Church that has nothing to do with whether he's a nice man or if people like him. Vestments, then, are a kind of pedagogical tool to remind us that we're Catholics and not Donatists.

I guess I don't get all that hot and bothered about it (really!) because I know that someone can be both my friend and my priest, and that sometimes the most spiritually efficacious thing is that he is my priest. Some people complain that this creates a harmful division between clergy and laity. And for all of that, I'd think I'd answer that there's a difference between a clergy/laity "distinction" and a "division." It's not an Indian caste system, and if we let ourselves talk about it like it is, we only hurt ourselves. When we ordain people, we create a distinction. What we do with it, how we talk about it, how we understand it - that's the question. The distinction is there as soon as we say that one person can consecrate the bread and wine, and another can't. As soon as somebody is to any extent "in charge" or a facilitator of religious activities, that happens. Happily, it's the way of the Church to ordain people so that we can be upfront about it and learn to be healthy about it. I'm reminded of all the Baptists I've known who refuse to say they have a theology of ordination or even of ministry, but will affirm that the Holy Spirit comes upon the preacher when he enters the pulpit. Saying the distinction isn't there doesn't make it true, it just keeps us dishonest and schizophrenic in our theologies.

I have yet to meet anyone bothered by vestments whose church uses them. The people I hear protest (ahem) the loudest are in traditions and churches that do not, and would not use them. Why are those people so certain about what the practice means and what it does to people?

Update: See also Dr. Pursiful's post.

Technorati Tags: vestments, ministry

Prayer

Ordinary Time

Time to be interactive again. I've been thinking like a pastoral theologian.

Okay, I talk often about about the practice known as "praying the hours," or alternatively, "the liturgy of the hours," "fixed hour prayer," and "the Daily Office," or simply, "the Office." For a short definition, go here.

I have questions. I'd like to know whether or not you engage this discipline.

If so:

How did you discover the practice? Who introduced you?
How long have you done it? What version do you pray?
What's your assessment of it as a helpful practice, in terms of your own experience?

If not:

Have you heard of this practice before? What were/are your first impressions?
Have you tried it? Did you at one time practice it and stop?
Would you consider beginning the practice? Why or why not?

I want to hear. Go nuts.

Technorati Tags: prayer, liturgy of the hours, divine office, liturgical prayer

On Prayer

A Word from ++A.M. Ramsey

The Godward movement has many aspects. It includes the use of mind and imagination which we call meditation, it includes the counting of God's mercies which we call praise and thanksgiving, and self-abasement which we call confession. But try to think of it more simply: it means putting yourself near God, with God, in a time of quietness every day. You put yourself with him just as you are, in the feebleness of your concentration, in your lack of warmth and desire, not trying to manufacture pious thoughts or phrases. You put yourself with God, empty perhaps, but hungry and thirsty for him; and if in sincerity you cannot say that you want God you can perhaps tell him that you want to want him; and if you cannot say even that perhaps you can say that you want to want to want him! Thus you can be very near him in your naked sincerity; and he will do the rest, drawing out from you longings deeper than you knew were there and pouring into you a trust and a love like that of the psalmist-- whose words may soon come to your lips. Forgive me for putting this so clumsily. I am trying to say that you find you are "with God" not by achieving certain devotional exercises in his presence but by daring to be your own self as you reach towards him.