CowPi Journal

A prayer to begin Advent:

O God,
Grant me your grace as I take up my Advent shovel
to fill in the valleys of neglect
in my prayer and daily life.
May I be zealous in my labors
of straightening out the crooked ways
and leveling the mountains and hills of sin
and false contentment
that block the coming of Christ.
Amen.

— Fr. Edward Hays, Make Straight the Crooked Ways

No one’s home here.
See you over at You, a prayerful conversation by an iHermit.

From today’s entry in God Calling:

Not our wills but Thine, O Lord.

Man has so misunderstood Me in this. I want no will laid grudgingly upon My Altar. I want you to desire and love My Will, because therein lies your happiness and the Spirit-rest.

When you feel that you cannot leave the choice to Me then pray, not to be able to accept My Will, but to know and love Me more. With that knowledge, and the Love, will come the certainty that I know best, and that I want only the best for you and yours.

How little those know Me who think I wish to thwart them. How often I am answering their own prayers in the best and quickest way.

According to Peter Kreeft in Three Philosophies of Life, there are only three ways to influence other people: pushing, carrying, and drawing. By force or by fear, you can push another person to do something against their will. You can carry a person along, but this means they are passive and you end up doing the task for them. And finally, “you can draw them, attract them, motivate them to move toward you by the magnetism of desire.”

Only in drawing is there freedom. The drawer is free for he has the initiative. The drawn is equally free with equal value to respond. “To be drawn is as free a choice as to draw. To come is as free as to say, ‘Come’.”

And so, God draws us to His altar, to lay down our will to be joined with His. But if we feel forced—pushed or carried—then it is not a free choice yet. Pray to know His love more so that you will be drawn to Him.

You have the choice, but so does God. God has chosen to draw us to Him.

Let me rephrase that: I have the choice, but so do You, Father. You have chosen to draw me to You. I am in awe! Help me to move toward You, to be one with You, to love and know You more.

I feel like I am always out of sync with the liturgical calendar. Next week starts Advent which leads into Christmas, but I keep thinking about Easter Week. The stories and images of Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday all seem to overlap and juxtapose for me.

As I searched for an image to put in the sidebar to represent Advent, the coming of Emmanuel, God with us, my favorite song at Easter came to mind. It is the old spiritual song, “Were You There”. It makes everything deeply personal.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?

Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?

Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?

Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?

When I hear this song, I can close my eyes and suddenly be transported back to that Friday—to the sights, the sounds, the smells. I see Mary and John and the others. I see the shadow of the Cross across the dirt and gravel, the blood beginning to dry along the grain of the wood, the lifeless body above. The air is heavy with sorrow.

Fade into another scene, years before with Mary and Joseph in the stable, the shepherds, the animals, the night sky and the star above. The air is crisp and fresh.

Fade into another scene, an early Sunday morning, the dew is fresh upon the grass, everything is aglow in the golden rays of the rising sun. Mary Magdalene, the apostle to the Apostles, is running with determination back to the others, tears streaming down her face, crying and laughing with renewed joy to tell the good news.