“With God, a little sincerity goes a long, long way.”
~Thomas Merton
Reflection:
Where in my life is God inviting me to practice simple, sincere honesty with Him?
Scripture:
“The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.” — Psalm 145:18
“This, then, is our desert: to live facing despair, but not to consent. To trample it down under hope in the Cross. To wage war against despair unceasingly.”
~Thomas Merton
How does actively resisting despair with hope in the Cross transform our spiritual journey and deepen our faith in God’s redemptive power?
It’s the first day of my master’s program at Loyola of Chicago, and I didn’t sleep well last night. Truthfully, I’ve been amped up all weekend with nerves and excitement. I have no idea what to expect or where this will take me, but I do know that I will be changed by the experience.
And isn’t that one of our biggest fears? That we will be changed, that we will be stripped of our comfort, and that we will become someone we do not recognize? But here I am, asking to be transformed from the inside out, praying that I am on the right path, taking steps in the direction of the call that I hear in the distance of my soul, beckoning me to go deeper.
It is also my daughter’s first day of 5th grade. I’m sure she has some to the same feelings and questions I do. Will it be difficult or easy? Will I make connect with my teachers? Will I connect with other students? Will I survive? As a side note, my daughter, who is wise beyond her years, once told me that the only things people are really scared of are things that will either kill them or embarrass them. Not to be overly dramatic, but I suppose this is a bit of both.
My first class is Advanced Human Relation Skills, something I can certainly use, whether in my personal life, at the jiu-jitsu academy I help run and where I teach, and in whatever vocation God is forming me for. Having looked over the syllabus, I’m enthusiastic about what the class has to offer, albeit I am reluctant to participate in the small-group sessions that are required. I’m also hyper-aware of the fact that the class runs from 8-9:30pm and, having always been an early riser, I’m usually in bed by about 9 or 9:30.
It’s finally time for class to start and I’m a bit early. I try the Zoom link provided by the teacher and it doesn’t work. It says it’s an invalid link. I start to panic. I try again. Nothing. I check my emails. Nothing. I go back to the class homepage and refresh the screen. There’s a new Zoom link. I click it and it lets me into the waiting room.
After a few minutes of waiting, I’m finally let into the class. The professors apologize for the mixup and we get started. They introduce themselves and then ask us to close our eyes and bow our heads for an opening prayer. I immediately start to feel more at home.
The first class is a lot of introductions, syllabus overview, and getting to know one another. It starts to feel like I can do this. God didn’t bring me here to fail. I’m tired, but happy. We get to the end of the class and one of the professors closes with another prayer. She calls it The Merton Prayer, after its author, the late Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, one of my favorite Christian thinkers.
My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. (Thoughts in Solitude, 1956)
Her use of Merton, who holds a special place in my heart and my spiritual formation, to close out the class feels like a little wink from God, assuring me that I am in the right place. As I close out the Zoom window, I search for the prayer online to find its source. A quick search shows that the prayer is from Merton’s book Thoughts In Solitude. I am instantly struck with the thought, “I have that book. In fact, it just arrived in the mail today!”
I scramble to find my new, used 1976 copy of Thoughts In Solitude, which I purchased, not as a book required for this course, but based off of a quote used by James Finley in his podcast Turning to the Mystics, and I start flipping through its slightly worn pages. There it is. There, right on page 83, is the prayer. All I can do is smile, as I know that this is God smiling at me.
~Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity 