Our Hearts are Wooed

Again and again we find ourselves deeply distressed because there is so much that is dependent upon us as individuals carrying specific responsibilities within a world which is small and compact and demanding. So overwhelming is this kind of pressure upon us that we are tempted to rely, despite all of our inadequacies, upon our own strength. Again and again we say to ourselves, if I do not depend upon myself, if I do not depend upon that which I am able to do for myself and those for whom I am responsible, then there is no other source upon which I may be dependent. And even as we say it and as we feel it, our minds are flooded with multitudinous instances in which strength did come to us that was not part of our making, a lift to our burden did come, even though it could not be measured by anything that we ourselves were doing. All around us there are those surprises of kindly interference manifesting the grace of life and the tenderness and the mercy of God.

Thus our hearts are wooed into thanksgiving and praise for so much that has come to us, transcending our merit and our demerit, so much thoughtfulness, so much reassurance, so many little ways by which our spirits have been renewed and revived. Even against our disposition, we offer our thanksgiving to Thee. Accept it, our Father, as our sacrament and as our offering to Thee, totally, wholeheartedly, that after this hour has passed each may know for himself that he is Thy child and Thou art his Father.

Our times are in Thy hand.

(For the Inward Journey: the writings of Howard Thurman.
Selected by Anne Spencer Thurman. page 290
originally published in The Centering Moment)

I remember, during my first experience of the Christian Fellowship in college, that there were people who loved to sing hymns that were, to me, quaint, old, unfamiliar. But when we sang “sing them over again to me, wonderful words of life,” I always knew there was truth in that plea. I want to hear “beautiful words, wonderful words, wonderful words of life.”

Thurman’s call for a centering moment that leads to praise sings to me this morning. Sunday is a work day for me, a day when I rise early and wrestle with what I will say, and then I show up to “sweat through a suit” (that’s what my Lead Minister tells me) and hope that I reach the congregation assembled with words of life for their days. And then I often take a nap, if I can, although I am finding that difficult to do with the peculiarities of the schedule at Shelter Rock. (Yesterday I did paperwork all afternoon and had to be run out of the place by the facilities staff.)

The notion that something beautiful comes to me transcending my merit and demerit warms my heart. My sense of my demerit motivates some of my overwork; I am trying to prove something to myself. It is challenging to imagine what merit I may bear. Still, I can be wooed, I hear from Thurman, into thanksgiving and praise. And thus I am.