A prayer for loved ones who have not found the Lord

Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash

Lord, it is good to be here with you, in this moment, in this place. When you are before me like this, the many moments when I could not sense your presence fade away. They melt like clouds before the light of your consolation and the contentment you alone can give. Would that you came before me more often or, should I not say, would that you allowed me to come into your presence more frequently.

Gentle, quiet Lord, when we are together like this, I can no more doubt your presence that I can question my own existence. In these moments, I know that if you do not exist then my own mind has no rest in the real. If you are not here with me, then the world and I, which I think I know, are no more than sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Advertisement

I do not conjure you up in my imagination or through some emotional manipulation. If that were the case, if it were in my power to do this, I would do it every day, so intoxicating is your face, the visage I cannot see. Still, at this moment, I know that you are looking at me. Oh Lord, it is good to be here!

Lord, why do you grant me the grace to see you so clearly, yet deny this same gift to the one whom I so desperately love?

Lord, may I speak about my “share of hardship for the Gospel,” which you have asked me to bear “with the strength that comes from God”? (1 Tm 1:8). Of all that you ask of me, this is my greatest burden, my deepest sorrow. Why do you grant me the grace to see you so clearly, yet deny this same gift to the one whom I so desperately love? By what mysterious wisdom of election do you reveal your glory to me and not to my beloved?

Yes, Lord, you give yourself to all, you are a sun that never ceases to shine. But then why do you sometimes scatter my clouds and not do the same for my loved one? I know that I am not more worthy, for being in your presence reveals my poverty before you.

It is good to be here, Lord. Yet I know that I cannot remain in this moment. I must return to my work, to our journey. Here, Lord, is the consolation and the charge you give to me this day:

He saved us and called us to a holy life,
not according to our works
but according to his own design
and the grace bestowed on us in Christ Jesus before time began,
but now made manifest
through the appearance of our savior Christ Jesus,
who destroyed death and brought life and immortality
to light through the Gospel (2 Tm 1:9-10).

You have revealed yourself to me. Lord, you called me to your side. You have shared with me your own mission, the one the Father has given to you: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him” (Mt 17:5).

Living Lord, I will be patient with those whom I love. Patient as well with your plan for their lives. I will bring them with me when I come into your presence. I will be, if only in the silence of my prayer, even in my own sinfulness, your channel of grace. I will trust that when the Father looks upon me, he sees my loved one, just as when he looks upon you, he sees your entire mystical body, your people, your loved ones.

Having seen your face Lord, having been seen by you, I am changed. My world is different. Only one who has known the resurrection deep within can understand this glory, this transformation.

I will rise and not be afraid. I will descend the mountain, for one whom I love is lost. Like you, I must search. Like you, I must be the sacrifice.

Readings: Genesis 12: 1-4a 3 Timothy 1: 8b-10 Matthew 17:1-9

Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.

[Sign up to receive the Word, a weekly newsletter featuring current scripture reflections and material from our archives.]

Advertisement

The latest from america

It’s been 220 years since the religion card was played so bigly in an American presidential campaign.
Every conversation my mother and I had about religion drifted into an argument about Pope Francis. Being unable to talk about God with the person who gave me my faith as she lay dying was agonizing.
Mike LewisAugust 13, 2020
“It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs,” Jesus told her. Yet she is not repelled by his parable. She engages it.
Terrance KleinAugust 12, 2020
Catholic composer David Haas is shown in a concert at the Ateneo de Manila University in Quezon City, Philippines, in this 2016 photo. (CNS photo/Titopao, CC BY-SA 4.0)
Mr. Haas has denied any wrongdoing, calling the accusations “false, reckless and offensive.”