Prayer Exercise: Week 8
...so that I can bring honour to His Name
Today I wonder about all the hidden, seemingly small ways God's children bring honour to His name. I think this way because it can sound so grandiose...bringing honour to His Name. And the church has been notorious for making it seem like we have to go big or go home. So I just wonder about beautiful moments in life when we end up following Jesus' footsteps and find ourselves right in the middle of bringing honour to His name.
I suppose that this week's prayer exercise is more like a story but I hope the story will lead you to places in your life where you realize you are part of bringing honour to God.
Honour: high respect, great esteem
I went down to the river yesterday. The air was very cool so I bundled up. I brought a chair, a hymn book, my journal, a rock painting pen, an apple, a card from a small group in which each member wrote a verse for me...and of course kleenex. :)
I was just about to set up my chair at the water's edge when I saw a young woman walking towards me. I asked her if she had been able to walk very far at the river's edge. She said she went down a ways so that she could sit on a board by the river but that it had definitely been a bush walk. She told me she had brought a book of poetry to read by the river. Then she noted that I had come as well. I told her that I needed healing in my life and thought that coming to the river was a good idea. She was the quietest person, she never asked why but somehow she heard the words deeply. Off she went to ride her bike back to the university.
I had just finished singing "Praise my Soul the King of Heaven" and was already getting out the Kleenex when there she was standing beside me with her poetry book open. She said so simply, "I found the perfect poem." She waited, not willing to presume I would want to hear it. But I did of course. "Please read it to me," I asked. So this deep soul of a young woman stood humbly beside me with my heart all a mess and read the words slowly. I told her that it was indeed perfect. She smiled and said she had a sense that she should come back and read it to me. "It really is perfect, isn't it?" I said, "Totally. Totally from God." I smiled at her through the tears and she quietly walked away, not even needing to say goodbye. She had followed in Christ's footsteps to me, delivered the perfect poem. In my receiving of it, the very air was charged in esteeming God with grateful praise. I offer the poem to you...perhaps it will find a place of belonging in your heart too and God will be honoured.
A Poem for Autumn
GRACE by Wendell Berry
The woods is shining this morning.
Red, gold and green, the leaves
lie on the ground, or fall,
or hang full of light in the air still.
Perfect in its rise and in its fall, it takes
the place it has been coming to forever.
It has not hastened here, or lagged.
See how surely it has sought itself,
its roots passing lordly through the earth.
See how without confusion it is
all that it is, and how flawless
its grace is. Running or walking, the way
is the same. Be still. Be still.
“He moves your bones, and the way is clear.”
This week, take the story and the poem and let God lead you however He delights to.