Food for thought.

"I was hungry and you formed a humanities club and you discussed my hunger. Thank you.

I was imprisoned and you crept off quietly to your chapel in the cellar to pray for my release.

I was naked and in your mind you debated the morality of my appearance.

I was sick and you knelt and thanked God for your health.

I was homeless and you preached to me of the spiritual shelter of the love of God.

I was lonely and you left me alone to pray for me.

You seem so holy; so close to God.

But I’m still very hungry and lonely and cold.

So where have your prayers gone? What have they done? What does it profit a man to page

through his book of prayers when the rest of the world is crying for help?"

-M. Lunn



Father,

May actions accompany my prayers. May my prayers not be hollow petitions, but may they be active. May they have feet. May I stop talking and start doing. May I serve the least of these, the prodigals, the ones you wish to know in an intimate way. May I be your hands and may my hands get dirty, filthy in the process. May my life, my actions -- not just my prayers, reflect You.

<3 Kel