Susan LaffertyBenedict of Nursia (480-547) first formed his Rule for the abbey he served in Monte Cassino, Italy.
Last year I grew curious about what this guide contained. And one particular practice caught my attention. It meant the monks of his monasteries lived on a steady diet of Psalms.
They repeated the entire book each week.
2020. And the pandemic spreads to the ends of the earth. We wait. And walk in constant change. Cancellations. Upheaval.
Those serving around the world are affected. Some caught in months of lockdown. Stopped at borders. Forced to leave. Or forced to stay in their home countries.
At times it feels overwhelming. As we grieve unexpected losses.
In the middle of it all, I’m drawn back to a familiar psalm of deliverance. Psalm 18. Detailing the sure and powerful rescue by the Almighty.
This time I read the first verse. Stop. And can’t move past it.
I’m compelled in that moment. To reach beyond grief. And dwell on the deep, deep love of my King. Lover of my soul.
Motionless. I sit. In sunlight. Stilled by loss and grief spilling across screens and down streets. Through personal stories of friends and strangers. Hard and sad.
Bitter wounds. Raw pain rooted deep. Laid bare.
Motionless. I wait. Stilled by the scale of it. What are we to do? Hands rest, palms up.
Eyes lifted to open sky between tall trees.
Wordless cry to the One I trust.
