The Lord, the God of gods, has spoken;
he has called the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting. Psalm 50:1
In the shadows that play against the wall at dawn. In the epiphany that comes as I listen to a colleague who sees something I missed. In my thoughts that meander from water to life to baptism as I attend to the thirsty plant on the kitchen sill. The gift of today is that God keeps showing up and showing me.
In this day, this place, this breath. From the beginning to the end of the earth, both in time and in space. All of the earth, and all of its time, and all that these encompass belong to God. And God keeps showing. Through. Above. Around. Within. Always.
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Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
Remember your word to your servant,
because you have given me hope. Psalm 119:49-50
I drive through the late afternoon grayness, the lights of traffic and scattered houses painting the streets with bright splashes of color turned liquid by the rain. The translucent mauve sky flattens the treed horizon, and I feel like I am driving inside the wet rather than through it.
The sky darkens from taupe to brown to blue-black as the bare branched trees trace intricate patterns against the fading light, and I am enveloped by the woods, and water, and wonder. What beauty, God’s creation. What endless possibility of color and light and liquid.
As I wend my way through the twists and turns in gathering darkness and damp, I think of the hope that carries me through the flat places, where God’s beauty and possibility do not breakthrough to my heart.
But the gift is more. Not only can I hold on to this hope when my way seems bereft. I have been handed the possibility, no the certainty, that I might discover God in the leaden times that dull my senses.
I pray to see God in the awkward moments and in the dull moments and in the flat times ahead as I drive on into the night and the expectation of illumination.
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Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
We have waited in silence on your loving kindness, O God,
in the midst of your temple. Psalm 48:8
I awake early, before the alarm, and move into my morning routine with a certain amount of confidence. Lately, I have been hitting the snooze button. But this morning, I am up and alert and can get a jump on the day. There is plenty of time for prayer, and journaling, and preparing for the tasks ahead. Perhaps I can even get into the office early.
Because that would be a good use of my time, to squeeze more work into a day. But somehow my prayer is not that efficient, and my writing is a chore, and I feel the minutes slipping by. Rather than using the time to sink into the now, to relax, to seek God, I think of how much I can do or accomplish. And I miss the gift. Of silence. Of being still. Of emptying, instead of filling. Of trusting that my time, this time, all time, is in God’s hands.
I have not waited in silence. I have not opened my heart to the loving kindness of God. I have not remembered that I am in the presence of the holy, in the midst of the temple.
Someday, but apparently not today, I will give up on getting ahead. But for now…I wait.
Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
If we have forgotten the Name of our God,
or stretched out our hands to some strange god,
Will not God find out?
for he knows the secrets of the heart. Psalm 44:20-21
The cacophony is overwhelming. A garish Christmas tree dominates the lobby, guarded by the silhouettes of huge toy soldiers outlined in bright lights. Video screens booming, barely recognizable carols blaring, people on cell phones complaining or cajoling. Noise of privilege. Noise of false promises. Noise of empty symbols. I have barely entered the fray of the mall and already I feel battered.
And I am also pummeled by my own desire. I am hardly immune to the voices that want me to buy just the right gift. That dictate what my husband or teenagers want from me. That guarantee my happiness is available for purchase…and on sale.
It occurs to me that I would not find the mall a gauntlet if I had not given in to these voices before.
But I do not have to give in to them today. God, who knows my secret desires, and how often I worship at the feet of what’s false, also calls me by name, and invites me into deep joy.
In the midst of the tumult I stretch out my heart to toward true love, and I hear clearly the sweet tones of Emmanuel, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Morning Star, Prince of Peace.
Image Credit: Rast / 123RF Stock Photo
Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
The Lord grants his loving kindness in the daytime;
in the night season his song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life. Psalm 42:10
It hits me suddenly. One moment I am sitting in the high school auditorium, and the next I am propelled with a gasp into the glory of God. Certainly an unexpected time and place.
It is difficult for me to unravel and understand the elements that contribute to this translation. The local community, with all its variety, gathered in this large urban high school. A school that still cares to support a music program. The young voices 150 strong, who create transcendence simply by their willingness to sing together. The student orchestra performing, accompanying, supporting with confidence and expertise. The leadership these young adults take on with such poise.
Or perhaps it is simply the beauty of one young woman standing in the aisle next to my seat, voice raised in exquisite tone, who cannot know that I am now praying, thanking God for the gift of Christ breaking in on me and the world once again.
Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
Blessed be the Lord!
For he has shown me the wonders of his love in a besieged city. Psalm 31:21
I bounce down the steps from my office looking for someone to share the good news with. In a day of flying details, I have finally managed to solve a problem that has vexed me for weeks. In the scheme of things, it is a small victory that perhaps only I will appreciate.
Only much later do I remember to thank God.
It can be easy to miss small moments of grace in the midst of busyness. Especially when the world today can seem to be a place for the besieged and beleaguered. Too many responsibilities, not enough time or energy or resources. Creativity and kindness can falter in the face of demands for constant availability, immediate response, and measurable results. No time to think, no time to rest, no time to be gracious.
In such a time, my victory may be a small one, but thanking God is never small. Practicing gratitude, praising God who loved us into being, not only draws me closer to the one who is the source of life, but also radiates that love out into the world where it combats the mayhem and lifts up the careworn and harassed.
As I recall my tiny moment of triumph, I allow my vision of it to expand until I can see the hand of God. And opening my eyes and heart further, I become aware of God’s presence interwoven into the entire expanse of my day, my life, the universe.
I pray again that I might see the wonders of God’s love.
Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
Be still before the Lord
and wait patiently for him. Psalm 37:7
I mess with the candlewick. I pick up my phone to check the weather. I contemplate adding a coat of polish to my nails. I almost check my email, but pull myself back at the last moment. I return to prayer.
Even after all these years of early morning discipline, even though I crave the pre-dawn quiet, even as I yearn to drop deeply into meditation of the holy, I am challenged by restlessness. I know the blessing of being still before God, but getting still is its own task.
Stillness does not come quickly. It requires surrender, and attention. Sometimes it needs to be carved out of a day. Perhaps I need to mine for stillness, or skillfully scrape my way into its cavern. Or cultivate it like a gardener.
Or maybe it only requires a moment, a breath.
It is an act of love, I realize. Being still before God is loving God, and taking the chance to be loved by God. Which is hardly a chance at all, but a sure thing. I simply need to be still long enough to know this. Which only takes a moment and a breath and all my life.
Copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014
