Inexpressible Groanings

Inexpressible Groanings

Words fail; what can I say? No word combination will help me to pray.
And if I could number my blessings each day, my tongue would be twisted, my confidence sway;
If honey-dew lyrics were lifted in song with voices of angels, they still would be wrong.
And, knowing that all verbal offerings fail, not able to vocalize more than a wail;
And yet, I pray.

Thoughts fail; how can I grasp the mercies and graces that enter my clasp?
My feeble cognitions would come out a rasp if I tried but to voice them–a humbling gasp.
If my human condition allowed me to plumb the depth of my blessings, I still would be numb
To the vast benediction of each counted breath,  each inhale and exhale an unearned bequest.
And still, I think.

Acts fail; what can I do? No vigorous action will help me pursue
The source of my blessings that seem to accrue without any effort on my part; but You
Provide me with everything I could require, the sum of my needs, if not every desire.
I cannot do anything to gain Your love, to merit the manna You send from above.
But still I act.

And though no thoughts, words or deeds will suffice to make me deserving of Your Sacrifice;
And while, seeking virtue, I stumble in vice; my scant tithe is weak, but You make up the price.
My inadequate words You gladly accept, transforming to beauty what I make inept.
My lowliest efforts You take in Your hand, and gently you add it to Your master plan.
So that everything I do in seeking Your will You transform to beauty with unbridled skill.
And You redeem.

A Psalm of Dawning Hope

lessed am I, though not fully aware
Of all that I’m given, of all that I share
With all of God’s children adrift in the sea
We bump and collide with in each daily dare.

 try to push past them in trying to see
The goal of my efforts, my reason to be.
But all that I witness amidst all the din
Are the crush of His people behaving like me.

ware of my failures, alert to my sin
I look in the faces of strangers and kin.
The mob that surrounds me with hopeful desire
Reminds me of all that I am deep within.

998. New Religion

The Hand of God

“I do not busy myself with great matters, with things too sublime for me.”  Psalm 131:1 

Faith or reason?  Reason or faith?

This prompt (No. 998) asks me to invent a new religion that combines all of my philosophies and beliefs.  “What is it called, how does it work, and who follows you into it?”

Would it be lazy for me to call it the Catholic Church and leave it at that?  Or the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church?  I don’t think so.  And as I delve deeper and deeper into my Faith, I am drawn inexorably to the following two conclusions (among others):

1. Christ has blessed me, individually, and humanity, collectively, with a beautiful, mysterious and profoundly simple Church; and
2. While it is a uniquely rewarding endeavor to plumb the depths of Faith, the endeavor to create a religion that is truer to my philosophies and beliefs truly is “above my paygrade.“