Lectio
“And when we fall, hastily He raiseth us by His lovely calling and gracious touching. And when we be thus strengthened by His sweet working, then we with all our will choose Him, by His sweet grace, to be His servants and His lovers lastingly without end.”
— Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love
Meditatio
Some days I go searching for a reading that inspires me, that moves my heart in such a way that my mind is stilled, and God’s mystery is contemplated within me. Other days, perhaps even more mysteriously, the readings present themselves. They call to me or come to me, as if a note from my loving God written just for me in the exact moment I need it most.
Yesterday, as I sat down to pray and to write, I had no particular theme or topic with which to sit in meditation. So I asked myself which mystic or saint I had not spent much time with recently. Immediately, Julian of Norwich came to mind. But as I reached for my copy of Revelations of Divine Love, I found myself drawn to St. Francis de Sales’ Invitation to the Devout Life which I picked up and thumbed through for something that spoke to me.
As I sat with St. Francis de Sales and allowed his wisdom to do its work in my heart, teaching me and changing me, I forgot about Julian altogether. For though I was originally called to Julian, my time with St. Francis de Sales felt both providential and necessary, a beautiful detour through the forest of grace where my mind could rest on God’s love and joy amidst a world of shadows and suffering. Two simple, profound sentences from this venerated Saint led to an hour’s worth of meditation, prayer, and contemplation, and the resultant Lectio Divina titled The Wellspring of Joy: God, Love, and the Light That Darkness Cannot Overcome.
But this morning, during my devotions, I could hear Julian of Norwich still calling to me. As I read and listened to today’s readings on the Laudete app, I decided to also watch the daily reflection video, and there she was, hidden in plain sight. While reflecting on what it means to live with the peace of Christ, the priest said, “It’s a feeling, I believe, that all will be well in the midst of everything. All will be well. God will be with us.” That simple phrase, “All will be well,” is pure Julian, the distillation of all of her revelations into four words that both challenge and comfort.
And there she was, where I did not expect to find her, saying just that to me through a priest whom I’ve never met and who had no idea that I was discerning the use of Julian’s writings as the inspiration for my daily lectio divina, or perhaps even that he was quoting Julian at all. There she was, her words to me today, as Christ himself stopping me in my tracks as a stranger on the road, speaking to my heart, and leaving me forever changed once again by his sweetness, his grace, and his love. There she was, God’s whisper of “I love you. I am with you. No matter how far you fall, I will catch you and raise you up.” And in that raising, I chose him again. By grace, I chose him again, even knowing that I will fall before long, I chose him again.
All will be well, my friend. Even in the falling, all will be well.
Oratio
you approach me
when I’m not looking
to tap me on my shoulder
to kiss me on my cheek
when I am wandering
and distracted
you remind me
I’m not a stranger on the road
I am your child
your friend
your beloved
I am the reason you came
Contemplatio
When have you experienced God’s presence arriving through an unexpected voice or an unlikely messenger?
Related Scripture
“I have called you by name, you are mine.” — Isaiah 43:1 (NRSVCE)
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like We Know Not Where But With And To Whom, which explores what it means to follow Christ on a road whose destination only he knows — and how trusting the Companion matters more than knowing the way.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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