Lectio
“Genuine and earnest prayer proceeds first from a sense of our need, and next, from faith in the promises of God.”
— John Calvin, Commentary On The Psalms
Meditatio
Why have you chosen me, Lord? Why have you pulled me out of my deathly slumber, awakening me to your loving presence? Why would you come to me — who has denied you, rejected you, and doubted you for so long?
Nothing I have done could deserve your presence, your love, your mercy. And yet you have given yourself to me so freely — in my very life, my breath, every beat of my heart. My very existence the outpouring of your very self.
Everything I am, see, hear, taste, and touch is your self-emptying love poured out as the life within and before me. But it’s all a blur. It’s just out of reach. You are just out of reach. You are here — everywhere — yet between us remains this veil, this cloud of unknowing, as though I am looking through darkened glass, seeing only a dim reflection of your glory. (1 Corinthians 13:12)
You have given me a taste, a touch, a whisper. You have shown your face in a glimpse, revealed your light in a flicker, spoken to me from a distance.
You are nearer to me than I am to myself — brighter than the sun, louder than my own voice. Yet out of reach and out of focus.
Why, Lord, have you done this to me? Why have you done this for me? Why have you come and then gone, leaving me longing for only you? This cursed gift I would never give back — and yet I waver. I stumble and turn back. I look away and refuse to listen. But you never do.
Thank you, God — but why? Why this pain, this agony, this longing? Why this distance, this suffering? Why these brief moments of perfect union, swallowed up like a drop of water in a raging river — wisped away like a speck of dust on a windy day? Why can I see you but cannot see you, feel you but cannot feel you, hear you but cannot hear you? Why are you so distant and so near, so ethereal and so real — more real than what seems real? Why have you chosen me to torment in this way, to grace in this way, to love in this way? (Psalm 22:1–2)
Whatever the reason, I say yes. Yes, I love you too. Yes, I want to be with you too. Yes, I accept whatever you have in store for me. Yes — your will, not mine, be done. Amen.
Oratio
you awakened me
just to leave me here
half asleep —
stumbling,
confused,
conscious of you
yet powerless
to do anything about it.
you left me longing
for your presence —
you who are always here
yet are so far away,
beyond my touch,
beyond my understanding,
somehow real
yet not real,
more real than what is real,
yet so often unseen,
unfelt,
unheard.
you awakened me to you
just to leave me
longing for you.
Contemplatio
What would it mean to stop straining toward God — and simply rest in the longing itself?
Related Scripture:
“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.”
— Psalm 63:1
For Further Reading:
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like When Grace Comes Calling: The Gift We Cannot Earn or Control, which explores the same paradox of powerlessness and surrender — the grace that awakens us is the same grace we cannot summon, only receive.
— Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
grapplingwithdivinity.com
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