A Prayer of a Simple Man
I am not worthy, Master and Lord, that thou shouldst come under the roof of my soul: yet, since thou in thy love toward all men, dost wish to dwell with me, in boldness I come. Thou commandest, Open the gates– which thou alone has forged; and thou will come in with love toward all men, as is thy nature; thou will come in and enlighten my dark reasoning.
I believe that thou will doest: for thou didst not send away the harlot who came to thee with tears; nor cast out the repenting publican; nor reject the thief who acknowledged thy kingdom; nor forsake the repentant persecutor, a yet greater act; but all of those who came to thee in repentance, didst count in the band of thy friends, who alone abidest blessed forever, now, and unto the everlasting ages.
St. John of Chrysostom, c. 347-407
Unquestionably, the use of archaic English is a bit of a linguistic speed bump for us. But the essential content develops for us to see a hungry heart; a heart that understands the Gospel. And mercy. And grace. John has a fascinating understanding of the purposes of Jesus, and seeks to honor Him before all who hear the Spirit’s voice.
His time, allotted to him by God was about 60 years. He would remain faithful and pass a blazing torch to the next generation. He was a link from the Apostles to a more modern generation. As a bipolar believer, I sometimes will struggle with clarity; of both words and thought. I value anyone who can concisely touch on the things that concern me. I think St. John does that, if we are patient and work it through, we will be blessed and enriched.
Our very unsteadiness is often detrimental. As our moods shift around we still carry the hope that we might just wake up tomorrow solid and strong. Bipolar disorder, schizophrenia and clinical depression has completely messed with us, we are ravaged as broken believers. Often, we make very bad decisions that only inflame our mental illness.
Becoming simple can often cool things down. We become aware that as we embrace the simplicity we find the “eye of the storm.” In the chaotic and confused (often self-inflicted) we just might find peace.
“Every man dies. Not every man really lives.” — William Wallace
kyrie elesion. (Lord, have mercy)