Friday, July 18, 2003
A Prayer for the Strength to Submit to God's Will
O Blessed Mother,
I long to answer the call of your son
like you answered the announcement of the angel,
"Be it done to me according to thy word,"
no matter the cost,
But I am weak, and wavering,
And fall so often.
O sweet Mary,
Thank you for being there
when I lay in the dust,
unable to stand up,
to take me by the hand,
and lead me back to your Son.
Pray for me, O holy mother of God,
that my good intentions
grow into realities,
and that I can live up to my longing
to tell God
"Not my will, but thine!"
Susan E. Stone © 2003
O Blessed Mother,
I long to answer the call of your son
like you answered the announcement of the angel,
"Be it done to me according to thy word,"
no matter the cost,
But I am weak, and wavering,
And fall so often.
O sweet Mary,
Thank you for being there
when I lay in the dust,
unable to stand up,
to take me by the hand,
and lead me back to your Son.
Pray for me, O holy mother of God,
that my good intentions
grow into realities,
and that I can live up to my longing
to tell God
"Not my will, but thine!"
Susan E. Stone © 2003
Labels: Discipleship
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Meditation on Jesus in the Eucharist
Oh my Lord,
I see you there, o Jesus,
in the form of bread,
so fragile,
so vunerable,
You, at whose name every knee will bow,
You, who sit at the right hand of the Father,
and yet are willing to come here,
feed us,
share with us,
wait with us.
You let yourself be broken
every day
for love of us.
Lord God,
Lamb of God
You take away the sins of the world,
yet to save our souls,
you feed us
with yourself.
O my hidden Jesus,
such a limitless love!
I weep with joy and sorrow,
I cringe with shame
but arise with wonder
that someone
would care so much,
would do so much
for someone
nowhere near worthy!
Susan E. Stone © 2003
Oh my Lord,
I see you there, o Jesus,
in the form of bread,
so fragile,
so vunerable,
You, at whose name every knee will bow,
You, who sit at the right hand of the Father,
and yet are willing to come here,
feed us,
share with us,
wait with us.
You let yourself be broken
every day
for love of us.
Lord God,
Lamb of God
You take away the sins of the world,
yet to save our souls,
you feed us
with yourself.
O my hidden Jesus,
such a limitless love!
I weep with joy and sorrow,
I cringe with shame
but arise with wonder
that someone
would care so much,
would do so much
for someone
nowhere near worthy!
Susan E. Stone © 2003
Labels: Eucharist
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Ecce Homo
You stand there Lord,
before the haughty Roman judge,
bloody,
beaten,
abandoned.
Behold, says Pilate.
So frail you seem,
as you lift your bloodied head
and look upon this gathered crowd,
hungry as jackals.
Bruised and battered, the face
that looks out over the assembly
gazes not with hot hatred
or numb resignation of the broken,
nor self-pity,
but with love
and grief
and an unfathomable caring
that yearns to heal each of us.
Lord, I am not worthy to meet your gaze.
Have I not, like Peter,
denied you?
Or like Judas, betrayed you;
Time after time, have I not
added to your stripes,
pierced your head
with the hard thorns of an unloving heart?
And yet here you stand,
pouring yourself out like a drink offering,
letting the cup be drained
until nothing is left.
Lord, you said the word to heal me -
let me never forget the price you paid.
Susan E. Stone © 2003
before the haughty Roman judge,
bloody,
beaten,
abandoned.
Behold, says Pilate.
So frail you seem,
as you lift your bloodied head
and look upon this gathered crowd,
hungry as jackals.
Bruised and battered, the face
that looks out over the assembly
gazes not with hot hatred
or numb resignation of the broken,
nor self-pity,
but with love
and grief
and an unfathomable caring
that yearns to heal each of us.
Lord, I am not worthy to meet your gaze.
Have I not, like Peter,
denied you?
Or like Judas, betrayed you;
Time after time, have I not
added to your stripes,
pierced your head
with the hard thorns of an unloving heart?
And yet here you stand,
pouring yourself out like a drink offering,
letting the cup be drained
until nothing is left.
Lord, you said the word to heal me -
let me never forget the price you paid.
Susan E. Stone © 2003
Labels: Passion of Christ, Penitence
