And yet sometimes…..
I might presume to understand,
to know what your purposes are,
to pass judgement on another
when in fact I don’t know
the full picture.

I see in a glass darkly.
Misty outlines
of half recognised shapes.
And I presume that this is all there is to see.
That in naming what I see
I recognise it
and understand it.
I have described,
and prescribed,
and drawn conclusions
which of course must be correct,
because I know the truth!

Father protect me from myself.
From the arrogance that presumes that I see all there is to see
and know all that can be known.
Save me from believing that your complete revelation, in Jesus
is the same as my complete understanding.

Father, your deeds are wonderful,
and beyond my understanding.
Your thoughts are not my thoughts,
and neither are your ways my ways.

Give me the humility to doubt myself.
Give me the grace to accept others.
Give me the faith to trust you;
that you speak sometimes in words I cannot understand,
sometimes to people of whom I don’t approve,
sometimes in ways that are alien to all I have believed,
thought,
understood.
Give me faith to believe that your perfect revelation
is still being revealed to me
moment by moment,
hour by hour,
day by day,

and that you will keep surprising me until the very end.

Those words are the beginning of life.
Those words come with the dawn.

The sun rises, and as its morning fingers
creep over the edge of the earth,
pushing back the blanket of night,
they send light,
trickling into the dark valleys,
spilling into the misty woods.

Light falls, lavishly
pours, prodigally
floods, extravagantly,
splashes, joyously.

Light dissolves the darkness;
brings hope, and renewal.

Light brings life, forgiveness brings life.

Forgiveness dissolves sin,
brings hope and renewal.

Forgiveness
falls, lavishly
pours, prodigally
floods, extravagantly,
into the dark places that we try to hide from you, oh, Lord.

It trickles into the dark valleys
and spills into the misty woods.
Brings life to what was dead
and healing to what was broken.

It brings us once more beyond the veil, into the sanctuary

To hear those words, “Son, Daughter, your sins are forgiven”!
Those life-giving,
pain-healing,
faith-renewing words.
Jesus, forgive.
Forgive my sin.
Forgive me.

Jesus speaks and sin is forgiven.

They arrived again in Jerusalem, and while Jesus was walking in the temple courts, the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you authority to do this?”

Jesus replied, “I will ask you one question. Answer me, and I will tell you by what authority I am doing these things. John’s baptism—was it from heaven, or from men? Tell me!”

They discussed it among themselves and said, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will ask, ‘Then why didn’t you believe him?’ But if we say, ‘From men’….” (They feared the people, for everyone held that John really was a prophet.)

So they answered Jesus, “We don’t know.”
Jesus said, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.”

Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

Immediately Jesus knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he said to them, “Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins . . . .” He said to the paralytic, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.”

I would sink into it as onto a feather bed.

I would feel you surround me, uphold me,

warming and supporting me

I am here,

seeking your fragrant welcome,

invading my senses with consolation.

I come,

seeking the enfolding arms of your compassion,

in search of hope for my helplessness,

peace for my fear,

love for my loneliness.

I think of all those around me,

friend and rival,

family and stranger.

Those who would help

and those who might hinder my journey to you.

I thank you for those along the way

who have eased my path,

who have borne my burdens,

who have cared and carried and consoled

when I was unable to stir myself.

I praise you for giving me those who sustain me.

I thank you for love and care wherever it may be found.

When I am tempted to self pity

help me to see the love which surrounds me.

When I am tempted to despair

help me to know that my future is in your hands.

And for those who have been obstacles,

who have blocked and barricaded,

hurt and harmed,

whether unintentionally or consciously,

I pray that I might find it in my heart to forgive.

Help me to see beyond the greed,

to the hunger.

Beyond the selfishness,

to the pain,

And forgive those whom you would also forgive.

For I know, that in forgiving others

I too can be forgiven.

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked.
When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.”

But Jesus said, “Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.”

Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

I can see you, Lord,
just out of reach.
I can hear you Lord!
Can you hear me,
over the babble of voices that surround you?

How can I believe that you see me,
crushed low as I am,
over the heads of others, more fit than I.

How can I believe that you hear me,
reluctant as I am,
in the noise of this crowd.

How can I believe that you will heal me,
reach me,
touch me,
forgive me

How can I believe when all around me
are those who would tell me there is no room for me.
And so I cannot be heard,
cannot be accepted,
cannot be healed.

How can I reach you, Lord
hampered by the burdens I carry?

Lord, can you hear me?

Lord, I never think now when I change gear,but oh how I crunched them at first. Lord, nobody asks me if I need the toilet now, and I never really think about that. Lord, how come my heart beats even when I’m asleep? And when I stub my toe, I shout out before I even feel the pain. Today, Lord, I thank you that in so many tiny ways I’m getting better. Better at smiling, forgiving, singing, laughing, loving. Better at trusting you, better at looking for you in the troubles and the strangers. Better at reading the barcode of your personality on every leaf and every baby’s fingerprint. And, you know Lord, sometimes I don’t even realise I’m trusting you. Thank you that you are teaching me how to handle the gear changes of every day, every conversation, with quiet and acquired assurance.