Lord, I pray

I would hear your small voice

In the cacophony of my desires and fears

That I might pray

From the raging sea of my passions

Waves of mountains, rising and falling,

that engulf me

And render me deaf to you

And, thus, mute to you

Because I cannot hear you

Neither can I pray what you will hear

(I John 5:14, 15, Ezekiel 14:3)

the raging sea possesses the sailor

orphaned from his vessel

as the oceanic storm of my passions

possesses me

and yet I form itÂ’s tumult

with grasping and greed

believing life is found

in finding my desires

and escaping my fears

and I cannot hear God

for he tells me to die

when he knows very well

it is my fear of not having life that controls me

water

we drink it

we bathe in it

with it we subdue fire

it is such a safe, ordinary thing, water

we cook in it

every single day we command it to serve us

and serve us it does

it is our slave

does water not have itÂ’s vengeance

when we find ourselves in itÂ’s hand

Marvel, Oh Human

How unconquerable water becomes

When it marshals itÂ’s forces

And makes weather

Weather makes storms

And we become at the mercy of

massed marching legions

Of tiny little droplets of water

Tornadic Frenzy laughs

And crashes manÂ’s castles

And dashes menÂ’s lives

And none can impede her

And none can chain her

And none can tame her

She is master

Until she pass

And I am controlled by smaller storms than these

I cling to a cruel illusion

That rest can be found

At the apex of possessions

And the immersion

Of favorable relationships

With little effort

I can hear god

Calling me, impelling me, commanding me

To ask for these things

What makes me warm

What makes me full

What gives me rest

This must

This must

I believe

Be godÂ’s best

And I fear that I am content

With these commands

When their source is the god of my own desire

How will I hear God

Calling me to die

Unless He show me His Glory

I cannot

I now know I cannot

Unless He show me His Glory

And this is an odd dance

The dance of my desire

And having my less than willing, clumsy feet

Spun by the tempest of His Glory

And He bears me into the jaws of death

Where others may not like me

And I may not be able to keep, and use, and control

My stuff

To hear Him

Means the threatening

Of the apex of my possessions

And the yielding of the

immersion of favorable relationships

and I discover

His thoughts are not my thoughts

For He calls me to sacrifice the pursuit of my desire

To have peace in the loss of my kingdom

And

Having opened my hand to Him

Yielding what so tightly I held

He is teaching me now

To ask Him

For what He wants to give

And I swear

I think I could face down a tornado

Or ride itÂ’s maelstrom

with peace

Happily trusting my life

To GodÂ’s big hand

Because He teaches me to hear

His desire for me

And it is

Glory

(John 14:12, Luke 17:3-6)

11/20/2003