Sunday, August 10, 2025

PREPARATIO (Preparation – Basic Silence)

As the new day begins, I bring myself before the presence of the Holy. Aware of my body, a little weary from rising early, yet my spirit is awakened by the stirrings of grace.

“Almighty and everlasting God, you have safely brought us to the beginning of this day…”
— From The Book of Common Prayer

In stillness, I offer this day:
That I may be defended from sin,
Guarded from harm,
And guided in righteousness,
Through Jesus Christ, my Lord.
Amen.

With this prayer, I begin to center my heart—then softly sing:

“Forward through the ages, in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.”

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LECTIO (Sacred Reading)

Psalm 99:1–9

“The Lord reigns… let the peoples tremble.
He sits enthroned upon the cherubim… let the earth quake.”

“Moses and Aaron were among his priests, Samuel also was among those who called on his name.
They cried to the Lord, and he answered them.”

“Exalt the Lord our God; worship at his holy mountain,
for the Lord our God is holy!”

Slowly, I receive these words as gifts.

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MEDITATIO (Reflection)

Yesterday, I rose much earlier than usual to serve in the choir at church, joining others who had offered their time and hands for the thrift sale on Saturday. Women and men alike—serving humbly, working quietly, lives webbed together in unseen threads of love.

Though my body resisted the early hour, my soul was lifted. The pastor spoke of humility and hospitality, not as duty but as the fruit of a transformed heart.

Later, I spent hours outside—pulling ivy, cutting overgrowth, kneeling in the dirt. My body grew weary, my thoughts scattered. But in Monday’s silence, clarity came: I do this not only to serve, but to preserve—my mind, my memories, my soul’s vitality. Hidden beneath my diligence lies my hope: to remain whole as days pass, and to pass on what I’ve been given.

In returning to the Psalm, I see it anew:
God speaks from the cloud—to Moses, to Aaron, to Samuel—and now, in grace, to me.

Holiness surrounds me not in thunder, but in the quiet acts of being still. Like a lake undisturbed, the deeper truths emerge only in stillness.

“Humility is like water in a still lake: transparent, inclusive, harmonizing.”

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ORATIO (Prayer)

Lord,
I see the cloud that once led your people through the desert,
hovering now over my heart.

You do not wait to be found—you surround.
You are behind and before me, over and under me.
You are the presence I do not carry but am carried by.

Let me not seek to possess You,
but rather become a vessel of Your light.
As the cloud fades and the sun shines through,
may I become transparent—so that only Your light is seen.
This is grace: unearned, unbought, unmeasured.

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CONTEMPLATIO (Contemplation)

Without divine order, even a single day collapses into chaos.

Yet the Holy Presence—grace and mercy—dwells still in the tent, in the hearts of the humble. Like those chosen before me, I am not made holy by my effort, but by your choosing and indwelling.

“Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up.”
— I Peter 5:6

To be lifted is not to rise in pride,
But to be caught up in love.

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INCARNATIO (Embodiment)

I now sing with those who’ve gone before:

“Come, we that love the Lord,
and let our joys be known…”

Today, I step forward through the ages—
Not alone, not in strength, but bound in Spirit,
drawn by a purpose beyond myself.

And as I close, my prayer is a song:

“Savior, like a shepherd lead us,
Much we need Thy tender care.
In Thy pleasant pastures feed us,
For our use Thy folds prepare.”

Blessed Jesus, hear me when I pray.
Let me walk humbly, serve quietly, and reflect Your holiness
in the quiet rhythm of my days.