Tuesday, June 07, 2005


O Lord,
so much I do not understand
while you refine me in the furnace
bringing to the surface
each and every one of the imperfections
I long to pretend are not there,
that I hate,
that I would deny,
and yet, until I learn to deal with them
as you would have me deal with them,
they are such stumbling blocks,
set between me and thee.

O Lord,
how you pull the veils away from my eyes,
show me my willingness to anger,
and how I love to take umbrage,
and how I devise ways to refuse the needs of others,
to refuse the duties at hand,
to be hard when I should be soft,
to be soft where I should be firm,
to find excuses not to pray,
to do all those things that human flesh
gives into without your grace.
How I long to cling to my veils,
deny the reality,
refuse to grow,
refuse the refining of your love,
and yet, Lord,
how I long with each and every breath
to be what you want me to be,
in the way you want me to be,
in your time.

O Lord,
forgive my whining,
and cleanse me in your refining fire,
strip away the illusions of holiness
that keep me from you,
until at last,
realizing that I stand naked before your sight,
unworthy in my imperfectness,
and acknowledge
that it is only with your grace
that I am healed,
only with your love
that I am made whole,
and all the good I long to do,
and all the holiness I long to wrap around myself
is but a poor shadow of you
and the white garments you intend to dress me in.


Susan E. Stone, 2005


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