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Posts from the ‘God’s Call’ Category

Where Is Your Quest Taking You?

Where is your quest taking you?

 

Each minute of life
should be a divine quest.

– Paramahansa Yogananda

 

What Is Your Heart’s Desire . . . Your Heart’s Delight?

Today’s Responsorial Psalm is from Psalm 37. I’m pretty sure I’ve shared this before, but verses 4 and 5 have always spoken to me about something that is key in discerning what God is calling us to. We need to listen to our hearts. Of course, this works better if we align our hearts with God.

Take delight in God, and God will give you the desires of your heart.

What does your heart desire?

God Will Give Us the Desires of our Hearts

Psalm 37 is tomorrow’s Responsorial Psalm. Whenever I have the privilege to speak with young women about discerning their call, verse 4 of this Psalm comes to mind . . . and to my lips:

Delight yourself in the Lord, and God will give you the desires of your heart. 

In other words, we can trust the desires of our own hearts when we our hearts and minds are centered in God.

 

God Calls the Most Unlikely Among Us

Yesterday we read about the call of the Prophet Isaiah. In Sunday’s first reading from Amos 7:12-15, we see that, no matter how unlikely we might think we are as God’s choice for some special work, God just doesn’t see it that way. All throughout Scripture, and all through our lives we discover that God overlooks education, status, gender, training, and economics and calls us to as poet, prophet, and preacher . . . to be holy, to help, and to heal.

Amos answered Amaziah, “I was no prophet,
nor have I belonged to a company of prophets;
I was a shepherd and a dresser of sycamores.
The LORD took me from following the flock, and said to me,
Go, prophesy to my people Israel.”

We find signs in the most unlikely of places, and God calls the most unlikely of people

Here I Am, Send Me

The first reading on Saturday is Isaiah 6:1-8 – a dramatic story of God calling the prophet. Though we may not see visions, doesn’t it always feel a bit dramatic to experience a sense of call . . . to get a glimpse of the Holy . . . to be grasped by Something bigger than ourselves?

It may even give us the courage to say, “Here I am, send me.”

In the year King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a high and lofty throne, with the train of his garment filling the temple.
Seraphim were stationed above; each of them had six wings: with two they veiled their faces, with two they veiled their feet, and with two they hovered aloft.

They cried one to the other, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts!
All the earth is filled with his glory!”
At the sound of that cry, the frame of the door shook and the house was filled with smoke.

Then I said, “Woe is me, I am doomed!
For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!”
Then one of the seraphim flew to me, holding an ember that he had taken with tongs from the altar.

He touched my mouth with it and said, 
“See, now that this has touched your lips, your wickedness is removed, your sin purged.”

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?”
“Here I am,” I said; “send me!”

Can we find the courage to say, “yes’, even when we discover that the way involves a cross?

God Leads Us in Love into the Desert

Today’s first reading is from Hosea – a favorite reading of mine from chapter 2.

Thus says the LORD: I will allure her;
I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart.
She shall respond there as in the days of her youth,
when she came up from the land of Egypt.

On that day, says the LORD,
She shall call me “My husband,”
and never again “My baal.”

I will espouse you to me forever:
I will espouse you in right and in justice,
in love and in mercy;
I will espouse you in fidelity,
and you shall know the LORD.

What beauty awaits if we allow ourselves to be drawn into the desert?

Love without Borders

On this day when we celebrate our independence – the birth of our nation – I recall to mind the words of the Spanish cellist Pablo Casals:

Jorge . . . on the other side of the border. How do fences obstruct our love of neighbor?