Lectio
“The Liturgy is a thing of exalted purposelessness, but it is filled with the sense of sacred serving, and over it reigns the sublimity of God. Here composure means everything. Hence it must be willed and practiced. Otherwise our ‘service’ grows dull, indolent, careless, an insult to divine Majesty.”
— Fr. Romano Guardini, Meditations Before Mass
Meditatio
Worship has no practical purpose. It offers no promise of worldly gain. Worship will not make us smarter, stronger, wealthier, or better looking. Nor will it increase our property, power, or prestige in the world any more than it will feed, clothe, or shelter us, or find us a spouse. In fact, done properly, worship offers us nothing because proper worship means giving everything — our time, our will, our love, and our lives — to God, for God’s sake.
God gives Godself to us, and worship is nothing more than our consent to that gift already poured out in grace and glory. Worship does not earn us God, for we cannot earn that which is freely given. Worship is merely the acknowledgement that without God we are nothing, that without God we have nothing and can do nothing. And the paradox of this acknowledgement is that it is exactly from this poverty of spirit that we realize that He is everything, that He gives us everything and makes everything possible.
But the distance between our lives and the altar is so great that we cannot dare to walk it without His aid. This is the building of the ark. It is the walking up the mountain with wood and child. It is the wilderness that both Israel and Jesus knew all too well. It is the journey across a parted sea that may collapse in on us at any moment. This is the walk of faith, and it requires, with His help, that we keep our eyes on Him, that we do not look down lest we fall into the deep waters of fear and despair along the way, but even if we do, when we cry out for help, when we call out His name, His hand will always be there to pull us back up to the surface with Him.
This walk asks nothing of us but stillness — not the absence of fear, but the refusal to let fear move our feet faster than His hand draws us to Him. Composure in worship is not composure of our own making; it is the willed and practiced surrender that lets us stay where He puts us, eyes fixed, hands open. It is slow. It is often silent. But it is the only way anyone has ever crossed to the other side, not for the sake of getting there, but because it is what He wills.
Oratio
Too Much To Ask
the chasm I face
between my feet
and Your altar
is impossible
it is too much to ask
it is more than I can give
I can go no farther
alone
Contemplatio
You do not have to close this distance yourself. Stand where you are, feet unmoving, and let the impossibility of the walk be the very thing you hand over. Sit with this in silence, consenting to His presence, and let Him move in you however He wills.
Related Scripture
“Do not fear, for I am with you, do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.”
— Isaiah 41:10 (NRSVCE)
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like The Altar of Silence: On Contemplative Prayer as Love’s Own Offering (Lectio Divina), which explores that same self-emptying offering from another angle — prayer dissolving distance rather than a walk we cannot make alone.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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