Sunday, May 9, 2010
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?"
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.