Mercy Street
Yesterday in my homily I spoke about the need for Christians to pay attention to the foundations of our life as a Church before turning to the things that are built upon them. A few of the things I mentioned yesterday were a desire to know God, prayer (most especially the prayer of silent listening to God), reading the Scriptures and putting what we understand about our faith into practice. If we pass over the basics of our life as Christians, we will never be able to achieve anything of significant value.
I have recently found myself reflecting upon how well I am doing with the core values and practices that make us Christians to begin with. When I am honest, I must admit that I still have quite a way to go in order to just fulfill the fundamental aspects of being a follower of Christ. One thing I did not mention yesterday in my reflections on our Scripture readings for the day was the need to continually seek God’s mercy when we fall short of our Christian vocation. The poetry of Jessica Powers has been for me a powerful reminder of what this looks like. Her poem,The Garments of God, describes it well.
God sits on a chair of darkness in my soul.
He is God alone, supreme in His majesty.
I sit at his feet, a child in the dark beside Him;
my joy is aware of His glance and my sorrow is tempted
to rest on the thought that His face is turned from me.
He is clothed in the robes of His mercy, voluminous garments–
not velvet or silk and affable to the touch,
but fabric strong for a frantic hand to clutch,
and I hold to it fast with the fingers of my will.
Here is my cry of faith, my deep avowal
to the Divinity that I am dust.
Here is the loud profession of my trust.
I need not go abroad
to the hills of speech or the hinterlands of music
for a crier to walk in my soul where all is still.
I have this potent prayer through good or ill:
here in the dark I clutch the garments of God.
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