A Lenten Silence

20 Feb A Lenten Silence

Five years ago, my church was in desperate need of a website redesign.  After what felt to me, a technology neophyte, like a long, involved process, the long-awaited update was ready to launch.  As part of this process, I was strongly encouraged to begin blogging. That seemed absolutely ridiculous, but I did it all the same.  Never ever would I have dreamt that 250 blogs later, give or take a few, I’d still be at it.  

One of the many surprises over the years has been discovering which topics seem to resonate most broadly.  I am still and invariably amazed by what speaks to people. The most recent example came a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about silence.  The feedback I’ve received has not only astonished me but provided ample evidence of how desperately we feel the need to turn down the volume in our lives.  

Lent is just a week away.  What better time to incorporate some form of silence into our lives, as a spiritual Lenten discipline?  Whether it is meditation, yoga, prayer, a walk in the woods sans cellphone, journaling, painting, or something else entirely, I invite you to consider what type of practice might feed your soul and spirit.  To “prime the pump,” so to speak, I hope this piece, written by Rev. Dr. Theodore Loder, will call you towards the Lenten silence in which we can be who we are while simultaneously contemplating who we might become.

O Eternal One, it would be easier for me to pray if I were clear and of a single mind and a pure heart;

if I could be done hiding from myself and from you, even in my prayers.

But, I am who I am, mixture of motives and excuses, blur of memories, quiver of hopes, knot of fear, tangle of confusion, and restless with love, for love.

I wander somewhere between gratitude and grievance, wonder and routine, high resolve and undone dreams, generous impulses and unpaid bills.

Come, find me, Lord.

Be with me exactly as I am.

Help me find me, Lord.

Help me accept what I am, so I can begin to be yours.

Make of me something small enough to snuggle, young enough to question, simple enough to giggle, old enough to forget, foolish enough to act for peace;

skeptical enough to doubt the sufficiency of anything but you, and attentive enough to listen as you call me out of the tomb of my timidity into the chancy glory of my possibilities and the power of your presence.

Listening with you into the Silence,


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