Sabbatical Begins

Deep weakness. Long gathered fatigue. Soul flu--both body and spirit releasing toxins. No meal can be held. Sighs. Groans.

And tears? They are somewhere, but like the sneeze which a ticklish nose promises, they disappear before the venting.

I walk into the chapel for the first time of my stay at the monastery. My host hands me a book with each page carefully marked--so I won't lose my way in the service. The act of kindness--of guidance--carries a message of comfort I sense at some distance. Holding the hymn book, I remember I will be singing and chanting scripture throughout my time here.

So, while waiting for the service to begin, I turn to the first marked pages in the book. Two hymns: one on the left page, one on the right. I read from the left. And God begins speaking to me:

1.
I have tried you in fires of affliction; I have taught your soul to grieve.
In the barren soil of your loneliness, there I will plant my seed.

2.
I have taught you the price of compassion; you have stood before the grave.
Though my love can seem like a raging storm, this is the love that saves.

3.
Were you there when I raised up the mountains? Can you guide the morning star?
Does the hawk take flight when you give command? Why do you doubt my pow'r?

4.
In your deepest hour of darkness, I will give you wealth untold.
When the silence stills your spirit, will my riches fill your soul.

5.
As the watchman waits for morning, and the bride awaits her groom,
so we wait to hear your footsteps, as we rest beneath your moon. *

I sit dumbstruck, God knows what I feel, and God is making promises! Day one of my rest, and Holy spirit is nurturing. I wait in prayer, my soul a boil, wondering to what tune these words might be sung?

The guitars strum, the comforting, mellow sounds of a recorder waft into the room. The tune is gentle. And the words begin. They come from the right side of the open book.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy burdened, and I shall give you rest.
Take up my yoke and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart, and you'll find rest for your souls. Yes my yoke is easy and my burden is light...

*Text: Inspired by St. John of the Cross, 1542-1591. Text and music copyrite 1988, 1989, Daniel L. Schutte. Published by OCP. All rights reserved.