I give you my future.

Originally posted here.

You-Hold-Our-Words-In-Your-Hands-Prayer-Garden

The Divine Hours

I give You my future
the fear that lives inside
take my tomorrow
the unknown in my life

I need a Sabbath Soul
a heart of fertile soil
translate my time
make a liturgy of my life

I give You my past
The world that lives inside
Take my yesterday
The memory of my life

I give You my present
the only world I live
transfigure this moment
it’s all I know to give

+ By Michael Wright [MAT ’12], the associate editor of FULLER magazine and studio. Listen here.

To one in trouble

Friday from the archives.

Witnesses to Hope

Life is busy; it’s still too hot for me; I’m not sleeping well; my internet connection is spotty; I’m “leaving town” for a week and a half and have a lot to do before and afterwards; and I have no inspiration. I don’t mean to complain, just to explain. This meditation from Amy Carmichael is for me–but you can read it as well.

I want to give you a word that helped me all yesterday and will help me today.  It is the ‘through’ of Psalm 84.6 [“Passing through the valley of Weeping they make it a place of springs”] and of Isaiah 43.2 [“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overcome you”] taken with Song of Songs 8.5 [“Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?”].

We are never staying in the valley or…

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“The Mending”

Witnesses to Hope

A Sunday-poem by Mother Mary Francis:

The Mending

There is no shattering love cannot mend,
No shards its gentle hands shall not make whole.
Healing, its glances brush like wings across
The deepest rawness of the heart, and leave
At last, at last no trace of briney woe.

What though we walked in ruins of a dream,
What though our tears had faded out the rose
And gold of what was once a splendid bond?
There is no shattering love cannot mend,
No shards its gentle hands shall not make whole.

Sweet is the love that never knew a wound,
But deeper that which died and rose again.

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