A daily call to worship from:
Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals.
Oh Lord let my soul rise up to meet you
As the day rises to meet the sun
Some days-most days-I can’t rise to meet you, or even lift my hands. My soul feels too heavy to find its way up to you–for your thoughts and ways are higher than mine. Not that I’m looking for an escape route; but just as the sun is fully present with the landscape it ignites–so to, I long for your presence in my darkness.
I know it is not by my own strength, but sometimes I feel so low it is as if nothing is powerful enough to lift me up. And, I don’t even know where up is–in what direction, what it feels like, what it looks like–or what it means.
But wherever or whenever ‘up’ is–it sounds wonderful.
It sounds like your favorite song or your favorite poem. Perfect rhythm, perfect rhymes, fitting together as tiny puzzle pieces to make a masterpiece. It smells like a meadow just after a rain–after a summer thunderstorm rolls through the grass. It marinades the leaves and seeds with fresh, new–life.
And this life washes away the dust, the flakes, the specs–all the leftovers and unnecessary burdens of the air. The thunder shakes free the trees from their roots and opens up an unwilling and unknowing ground. Lightning pierces through the sky to dispel the looming darkness. Although at first it might not look like much–once the dark sky sees such a light it is never again content to be completely dark.
Life pours out life. Light brings forth light.
After the earth is split and shaken and the darkness displaced the summer air allows its thoughts to peak through. Tiny stars appear reflecting the magnificent glow of lightning. The trees rustle at the flirting touch of the breeze, carrying the thoughts of the field to and fro.
Yes. Up must be like a summer night. Darkness cannot be eternal.
Darkness cannot be eternal.
But the light is sharp and wild. And eventually the stars come together and creep up to the edge of the sky–as the sun inches higher and higher–up. Always up. And the dew left on the leaves of the lilies is drawn to the light. Not by its own decision or ingenuity or strength.
But because it is in the nature of the sun to rise higher and higher–and to draw all things to itself.
Let my soul rise up to meet you
as the day rises to meet the sun.
I cannot lift myself to your place. But just as your kingdom shines through the darkness as tiny stars in a midnight sky, as your mercy breaks forth like rain drops from storm clouds, and just as your kingdom comes on this earth as in this heaven and the heaven to come, as you are lifted high, draw all things, even–and including us–up. For it is in your nature to draw all things to yourself.