Wednesday, January 12, 2011

first plant of day

Photo by Paul Casey

On a morning like this, the ritual serves up like a dry, stale piece of bread.

How can meeting with God Almighty be such a thing?

There is no excitement, no epiphany, no word, certainly not found written on the wall and maybe not found among the words of the Word already here, the Word that has always been.

I open the Book and let the pages fall. I don't know where to begin.

I confess every sin I can think of; perhaps my own unrighteousness is the veil I see dimly through.

Is this sluggishness born out of begrudging?

Sketched deep down, in my hidden heart, crouches this: that I would rather be doing something else.

"Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."

Paul wrote of money to the Corinthians, but today, the gift means not money but time. I give it reluctantly. The discipline of meeting the Lord first has become just another thing to do. In the silent vault of day-beginning, I'm too eager to blog-hop or wash yesterday's dishes.

And yet.

"Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously."

I remember that prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. Anna. Of her it was written, "She never left the temple, but worshipped night and day, fasting and praying."

She sowed generously. How she reaped.

84 years, and then, the Messiah, the face of God, right before her crinkled eyes.

Would it be so crazy to spill the whole seed bag in one spot of soil?

Would it be so crazy to come to You in the dimness of the day and spill my whole heart, my whole cage of competing desires, my small, small agenda?

Would it be so crazy to whisper,

curved over coffee mug and wooden table,

"Oh Great God,

come, please, I beg of you, even when I do not sow well, when my seed is scattered, my mind scattered, my heart divided.

Come, for I am nothing if you are not here, and I ache to reap what Anna did, God, crazy old Anna, who planted herself in one single spot, and





  1. love the photo and love the words even more! Definitely inspired.

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