Kneeling

Kneeling before the monstrance tonight, and the sky fell apart in an incredible storm. The chapel held together though, as it always does, and I wonder how we ourselves don’t simply come apart before the Real Presence - how we don’t simply unravel. But of course I know that it is act of love - one of devotion, utter intention, by which He holds us together - by which every living thing pulses, grows, breathes, stretches itself out towards Him in ways we barely comprehend.

Every self deception, every delusion, every fiction does dissolve of course, in adoration. The silence. The sense of awe. The astounding humility by which the Trinity comes to dwell in such a host. It is the incarnation, presented to us once more. It is the humility and sacrifice of the cross, once more. We kneel at Calvary, barely able to decide if we are to watch, wait and adore lovingly, or avert our gaze in crippling self awareness of every fall, every failure that might render us unworthy, had we not encountered our Lord in the gospels - Justice and Mercy have met, indeed.

And you remember, of course, the tender love, the devotion, the utter intention by which he breathes life into our being, and we rest. We gaze lovingly. We adore without fear.

We hear Him whisper: Be still, and know that I am God. I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.