All,
Thank you for journeying with us during this Lenten season! Over the next several weeks, I will share devotionals written by TCU faculty, staff, and students of which I hope you are able to reflect upon during your own Lenten path.
Today’s devotional comes to us from Dr. Jan Quesada! Dr. Quesada serves TCU as a Senior Instructor in the Religion Department and has taught Religion courses to undergraduates at TCU for the past 25 years. Her research focuses on women in biblical narratives and in historical Christian contexts. If you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting her, Dr. Quesada is incredibly kind, warm, and hospitable, and I thankful to have her contemplative and wise voice as a part of our devotional series!
Psalm 130: 5-6:
“I wait for the Lord; my soul waits,
and in his word I trust;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.”
Reflection:
In this Lenten season of preparation for the great mystery of Easter, I am focusing on a daily commitment to practice being open and available to the transforming work of the Spirt.
I grew up in a Baptist household in central Texas. My parents, my younger brother and I took our faith seriously and were very involved in our church community. In this context, I also absorbed the lesson that to be a Christian meant that I needed to be really good, which clashed with my daily experience of falling short of this goal. Lately, instead of seeking to be “good” by trying really hard, I have learned that a more effective spiritual path for me involves the daily practice of sitting in “silence, openness, and quiet attentiveness.” In this practice of silent Centering Prayer, I am surrendering to a loving and transforming divine presence, allowing transformation to happen in ways I don’t pretend to control or even really to perceive. I light a candle or two, sit cross-legged on my sofa, have my boxer snuggled up next to me, and use contemplative app with a timer and a lovely “singing bowl” chime. When it chimes, I close my eyes, sit still, and repeatedly reset my wandering attention with a single prayer word until the chime signals an end of this time of silent openness. And afterward, I take the dog for a walk and entrust my day to God.
The idea of non-discursive prayer was foreign to me, given my Baptist background. However, for the last dozen years, this mode of prayer has been a true gift. I don’t have to be eloquent or long-winded. I just have to show up in the early morning darkness, rest in quiet attentiveness, and trust in the grace of God.
Let us pray.
“O God, unto whom all hearts lie open, unto whom desire is eloquent, and from whom no secret thing is hidden, purify the thoughts of my heart by the outpouring of your Spirit, that I may love you with a perfect love, and praise you as you deserve.” (Prayer in the preface of The Cloud of Unknowing, a 14th-century guide to Christian contemplation)