In the Catholic Mass, one of my favorite prayers is encompassed in these few words, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the Word, and I shall be healed.”
Writing in this blog is not easy for me. It is not easy because Luke 18:9-14 lies heavy on my mind. I am that Pharisee, unworthy of your attention. Yet, I am also a shard of a broken mirror that is called to reflect the Light whose illumination brings peace and comfort (Psalm 97:11). Broken, I cannot fix myself. Scattered to pieces, I pray that He will make me whole, restore me to what I should be.
Like a worker in the fields longing for the day’s end, working in spite of the insects, the unbearable sun, the weariness that permeates my being, I wait for Him to say the Word so that I might be healed. Though I am surrounded by people who encourage me, who wish me well, and for whom I labor, I still long for your peace. I am a foreigner in a land I never intended to know or become familiar with. I do not find myself anywhere I look. I pray I may never forget I am a foreigner, a parched piece of earth waiting for your healing rain (Deuteronomy 28:12).
Let us pray to the Lord.