This is why we meditate, that we might, breath by breath, learn to live the singular way of life by learning to die to the illusions born of identifying with anything less than God.

– James Finley 

In all my poverty, O God, I come to you. Even as I struggle to name it poverty—this sense of inadequate response to you. For, by all measures that the world generally applies, I am rich. I have no physical need. I live in luxury of possessions, of apparent security, of opportunity, of freedom, of health. And yet, when I follow this wistful longing to rest in the lap of Thy Presence, I have nothing to give save this often confused and anxious body of being-ness. 

There are wonderful invitations before me to which I want to say Yes. But I also feel the pull of all my inadequacies casting a shadow over that Yes. And the ego puffs up with its hollow arrogance, wanting the imagined prominence of recognition and applause. My Soul then shrinks a little. There is very little substance behind the façade of confidence about what I can do. So not only do I feel a poverty of substance, I am also conflicted by what is a mixed bag of motives. 

Here, in meditative pause, the Grace of this truth floats up on a forgotten melody with its Alleluias, Thou, O Lord, are a shield about me, You’re my glory, and the lifter of my head.

I must learn to abide in this: it is you, my God and my Breath, Word that becomes flesh, that is manifesting the invitation and the Yes to it. And you must be the Guardian and Chief Performer. I am content to be the stagehand in preparing the stage and lighting for you to be seen and known. The stage is my life and being; the lighting is my pointing to you and directing the audience’s attention to you. For now, let me rest in Thy Presence and, as lovers do, adore you in mutual regard and delight. 

Please, once again, show me the movements that make for great Loving.

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