Every day I recite Psalm 95 as the invitatory to Morning Prayer. I have said it so often that it has worn a track in my brain and I no longer really hear it any more. This is a danger of things of which we have too great an acquaintance. We begin to no longer hear them speak. We begin to take them for granted.
But the Lord of Life, who rose from the dead, can make even dead ears hear and the numb heart feel. This morning I was reciting it, and for the first time in a long while, I heard what it said. I quoted the portion of it that struck me as a kind of antiphon for the intentions of St. Blogs. I can't tell you exactly how it resonated, but it loomed large in my mind.
There are many prayers that we may say every day. The art of praying well, it would seem, is to pray each as though it were brand new, dwelling not only upon the words, but more upon the meaning, lingering and relishing each phrase. To pray often is not necessarily to pray well; but to pray with loving attention, even if more infrequently can make a marked difference in one's prayer life. Listen to all the words of God as though they were new. AFter all, their meaning is inexhaustible, and Jesus Himself said, "Behold, I make all things new." Not just one time, not just an instant two thousand years ago. No, for all of time Jesus renews all things to those with attentive hearts and open minds. The wealth of scripture shall be doubled and redoubled. Each word streams forth from the Living Water which flows from the temple--Jesus.
i agree. and i also think that, even when we aren't paying strict attention, subconciously our spirit's are still getting the message.
I go through Psalm 95 phases - one week "forty years I endured that generation" sparks all sorts of topical analogies, a reminder that our post-boomer generation runs down the same endless track the children of God trod through the desert; another week another phrase steps forward.
I'm still getting to know the Psalms; I'm looking forward to anticipating certain psalms on certain days in the four-week round.
I was impatient for years with the endless Sunday morning "So and so, bless the Lord, yadda yadda", now I see a bit of the common vocation of humanity in it and pray it for the birds & squirrels, trees, grass and little pond outside our dining room window.