Prisons are unkind places.

It matters not how the walls are built because those that rise from disappointment, dereliction, discomfort and discrimination stand as sure as those made from brick and mortar.  These walls, no matter how they were constructed, cause us to doubt who we are and all that we have ever known.

John the Baptist was a man on a mission.  He stood in the wilderness and in the water preparing the way for the One to come.  When this One came and Heaven spoke, John’s job was done.

Endings are rarely easy, no matter how they appear.

Not long after, the pages turn and John is found sitting in a prison – isolated, dark and foreboding, I am sure.  A place where time holds one hostage and thoughts fall incessant as tortured drops.

Drip

Maybe I should have done this or that instead?

Drip

Why am I here?  What did I do wrong?

Drip

He is not doing it like I thought it would happen.  Is He really the right one?

Drip

Prison walls hold tight their contents until they gnaw away even the most stalwart of heart.  We may wonder why John so quickly doubted within the walls what he knew to be true in the water.  But truth be told, we do the same.

Life encircles us in ways we never expected.  As the calendar pages turn, we hide our hurts and disappointments with the intention to move past.  But instead they burrow their way deep within the walls and there they find the perfect place to fester.

Infections like these weaken even the strong among us.

Yet John, in his wisdom, knew the question was worth the ask.   The answer was the antidote to the ailment seeking to poison.  Jesus didn’t avoid the question.

God never does.

We just far too often avoid ask

Further reading:  Matthew 11:1-6

I am sure I have prayed these words a million times and yet, they seemed so unfamiliar.  It happens when things become rote and ritual.  Their power lost in our inattentiveness.  We stop seeing.  We stop hearing. 

Today, however, I saw and it shook me to the core. 

You see, it’s easy in this world of social media sound bytes to rattle off opinions and proclaim judgements.  We may think our voice is drowned out in the sea of millions but to the One who hears all things it plunks like a pebble in a sea of glass.  The ripples go farther and longer than we ever anticipated.

We speak before we truly understand.  Our perspective is tainted and one-sided at best.  We hold tight to what we know but no matter what we think – we don’t know it all. 

Only He does.

And yet, we spew our words and toss our judgements as if what we are saying is etched in stone and more worthy than another.   Pictures, memes and comments fly on our pages faster than the mind can think, the heart can ponder and the soul can respond.

I wonder how different we are from those who rattled opinions and proclaimed judgements on Christ himself.  Those who lived by the law and failed to see the fulfillment who stood right in their midst.  Those who lost sight in their own myopic vision to see eternity living and breathing among them.  Do we consider ourselves of better stock and pray His words with conviction, “Your Kingdom come Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” 

I fear we beg Heaven to come but live as if it never will.  God help us!

The One who looked at his disciples and said, “Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye but do not notice the log in your own eye?”  Looks at us and says the same. 

Very little has changed.

We seek forgiveness to ensure our eternity and fail so quickly to give to others what we crave.  Our vision is blocked by our own arrogance and ignorance.  Thoughtlessly, we continue to pray, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

We prattle rote words that fall from our lips but never touch our heart.  If the ritual became real then we would be more mindful of what we pray to the One who answers.

“Forgive us … as we forgive.”

We speak as if we know what we are saying but if we truly did, would our world, our home and our heart not be different.  If those words carried their truth from our lips to our heart we would know that what we pray for is also the measure we ask for.

So the question is…do we really want to be forgiven in the manner in which we forgive?

I have said it often (and you probably have too), “I just don’t have enough time.”  Finding myself feeling tapped out and overwhelmed.  Drowning in a list of to-do’s that only seems to get longer.  

Still and yet, we have all the time there is. 

All of it.

Our lack is not found in its fullness but rather in our living off balance.  In a world of excess, it is easy to get lost and distracted.  Commercials lull us into thinking we need more or better than what we already have.  Even though our already is doing just fine.  We think we need to engage in a plethora of extracurricular activities (have you seen an average child’s schedule lately) and spend time racing from one activity to another.  We indulge our senses before we engage our hearts.  We accumulate and carry the baggage of unnecessary things until we are living for them.  The gods we make for ourselves demand more adoration than we have time to give and yet, we give it.

Then, slowly, life ebbs from the deeper places.  Work becomes drudgery.  Family becomes dull and inconvenient.  Friends fall away.  Our soul turns dry.  We look at others and deem their lives better.  We think co-workers do less while we are overwhelmed.  We think family members don’t get it or worse yet, they don’t care.  We look at others when we need to look at ourselves.  Life becomes all about what we do not have and nothing about what we do.

Yet, what we do not bring into our lives, our lives cannot possibly give us.   When we spend more time seeking things to fill our lack we become superficial in our quest.  Life is lived in the deep end. 

We will find a perspective far beyond ourselves, when we find the strength to deal with who we are, where we are and why we are.  If we spend our time looking for the golden ring we will miss the treasures we have already in our possession.  God is in the midst of it all and when we say we do not have enough, we doubt and discount the provision He gives.

If we bring ourselves fully into the current moment and become attentive to what the now in our midst is unfolding, we will come to see what we could not before. 

The more of life isn’t the needed part.

He is.

When we can see God in what we have and even in what we do not have, we can reflect more deeply and welcome what is rather than long for what is not.  When we can see Him in who we are at this very moment, we can find a balance between His perspective and the torrents of our emotions and desires. 

We are caretakers of this life and we have been given all we need for this very moment – all things and all time. 

May we learn not to wander in search of the more but rather, savor the beauty that already exists.

The furnace gently whirs in the background warming the room and lulling the senses.  Its soft white noise soothes this moment quiet.  The muted glow of a single lamp falls gently across my lap as I wait for my world to awaken.

It has been a long morning – one of those that started well before daylight and lingers an eternity.  This first real “cold” morning of the season blows frigid outside my windows and I am caught between.

This is the week of Thanksgiving.  We have named it so and dance around it with parades, football, turkeys and pies.  We have filled it to the brim with food, family and fun but leave little room for grace and gratitude. We hunger for more and miss the treasures we already hold.

So here I sit watching the last few leaves fall from limbs stripped bare and ponder this truth.  This season has barely begun and I have far too quickly forgotten what has just ended.  The multicolored beauty so quickly overlooked and woefully, lost for eternity.  I struggle with transient nature of this world – the revolving door where graces walk in and graces walk out.

I don’t want to forget a moment and yet, I feel like I forget them all.

They are lost in the worry and the rush.  They are tossed aside for the things more pressing.  They are drowned out by that which howls louder.  Their gentle presence comes and goes with barely a notice and yet, I am wanting for it.

So now, in this present moment the words of St. Jerome echo long into my soul, “Begin to be now what you will be hereafter.”

Begin now.

The grace of this present moment will not tarry and I cannot hold what I do not to see or hear.

Begin now.

And, so I do.  Begin now to welcome in the graces and give gratitude before all else – before the incessant chatter of empty words; before the impatient demands of this harried world and before they vanish unnoticed. It seems fitting this week of Thanksgiving to hunger for what I already have and give thanks for all that already is.

“Lord, give me an open heart to find You everywhere, to glimpse the heaven enfolded in a bud, and to experience eternity in the smallest act of love.

Mother Teresa