Maybe I say: Lord, what good have I apart from you, and what can I ask for that is not you? Everything else I’ll throw behind me and forget; but grant me a life that bursts with hope in you, give a heart drenched in your joy and trembling with the divine love.
Maybe I hear back: Today I have none of that for you, but what I have I give you: some fleeting glints of freedom, some earnest prayers for it; mostly a great dryness, mostly absence. Those are the gifts I extend: and will you take them? Will you believe that I have chosen them as being—for you, for now—the best of all?
If unusual grace is resting on me, maybe I answer: behold the servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.
In those who can make such a reply, and whose words are more than words—months later or years, after much has been endured, he is born in them.
This is the fourth in a series of Advent posts my friend Grace and I are writing. Read her latest over here.