I continue to think about Pastor Karen's sermon last Sunday (https://www.facebook.com/Merritt.Island.Presbyterian.Church/posts/1128890507121578) and the importance of presence. And why it is important. Looking through some Lenten reflections from Iona I came upon this free verse prayer/meditation. In part it's about how three different people see a very ill and elderly hospitalized patient: Mrs. Alice Williams, a retired school teacher.
Jesus, when you wanted to know
what people were saying about you,
your friends were quick to reply.
There was no shortage of ideas and theories, it seems:
Elijah, John the Baptist,
prophet, teacher, worker of wonders...
what people were saying about you,
your friends were quick to reply.
There was no shortage of ideas and theories, it seems:
Elijah, John the Baptist,
prophet, teacher, worker of wonders...
But there are different ways of knowing,
different levels and depths.
Peter was more accurate:
"You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God,
the one we are all waiting for," he said.
Spot on.
Well almost.
Even he hadn't worked out yet
that you had come to give your life
in costly and crucified love.
different levels and depths.
Peter was more accurate:
"You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God,
the one we are all waiting for," he said.
Spot on.
Well almost.
Even he hadn't worked out yet
that you had come to give your life
in costly and crucified love.
Different ways of knowing
the people we meet.
To the hospital visitor: one elderly face among many
in a ward of geriatric strangers.
To the nurse: Alice, slightly deaf and slipping down her bed,
to be jollied into recovery from a stroke.
To a fellow patient: Mrs. Williams, one time pillar of the community,
who had nurtured generations of children and teachers.
the people we meet.
To the hospital visitor: one elderly face among many
in a ward of geriatric strangers.
To the nurse: Alice, slightly deaf and slipping down her bed,
to be jollied into recovery from a stroke.
To a fellow patient: Mrs. Williams, one time pillar of the community,
who had nurtured generations of children and teachers.
Two stories. One about you. The other about Mrs. A. Williams.
They don't quite connect, do they Jesus?
You were, and are, unique.
To know you is to know God:
the deepest kind of knowing.
They don't quite connect, do they Jesus?
You were, and are, unique.
To know you is to know God:
the deepest kind of knowing.
Yet Mrs. A Williams - was she not special too?
Was anyone else quite like her,
with exactly her gifts and commitment,
and her volumes of mystery stories
published secretly under a fictional name?
Was Mrs. A Williams not unique -
daughter of God in her own right?
Was anyone else quite like her,
with exactly her gifts and commitment,
and her volumes of mystery stories
published secretly under a fictional name?
Was Mrs. A Williams not unique -
daughter of God in her own right?
I never knew her. She was not my teacher.
But you are.
But you are.
Teach me, O Christ.
Teach me to recognize the dignity, the uniqueness,
the divine possibility,
of every living person.
Teach me to recognize the dignity, the uniqueness,
the divine possibility,
of every living person.
Teach me to take no one for granted,
no friend or stranger,
no crowd or category,
no statistic or stereotype.
Let me never overlook the hidden ones
who yearn for recognition,
and secretly ask, "Who am I?"
no friend or stranger,
no crowd or category,
no statistic or stereotype.
Let me never overlook the hidden ones
who yearn for recognition,
and secretly ask, "Who am I?"
And in that recognition,
in that deepest knowing,
let me encounter you.
in that deepest knowing,
let me encounter you.
And in that encounter
let me, like Peter, be blessed.
For such recognition will hardly be of my own making;
it must be a gift of God.
let me, like Peter, be blessed.
For such recognition will hardly be of my own making;
it must be a gift of God.
And in that blessing
let your presence
which I sometimes remember to see in others
also be in me.
And let that which is most truly and uniquely me
be your unfolding within me.
And let me know myself to be
a son, a daughter,
of the living God.
let your presence
which I sometimes remember to see in others
also be in me.
And let that which is most truly and uniquely me
be your unfolding within me.
And let me know myself to be
a son, a daughter,
of the living God.
By Brian Woodcock
When our presence blesses and affirms Christ's presence in others, we receive a blessing of indescribable magnitude.
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