Here’s something from my devotions this morning. This could be filed under “the inner groanings of Adam Anderson that someone else caputred fantasticly”
Every morning at 6:45 I go to the small convent of the Carmelite Sisters for an hour of prayer and meditation. I say “every morning,” but there are exceptions. Fatigue, busyness, and preoccupations often serve as arguments for not going. Yet without this one hour a day for God, my life loses its coherency and I start experiencing my days as a series of random incidents and accidents.
My hour in the Carmelite chapel is more imporant that I can fully know myself. It is not an hour of deep prayer, nor a time in whihc I experience a special closeness to God; it is not a period of serious attentiveness to the divine mysteries. I wish it were! On the contrary, it is full of distractions, inner restlessness, sleepiness, confusion, and boredom. It seldom, if ever, pleases my senses. But the simple fact of being for one hour in the presence of the Lord and of showing him all that I feel, think, sense, and experience, without trying to hide anything, must please him.
– Henri J.M. Nouwen
I so often feel the lack of coherency when I don’t pray every day. And if Henri Nouwen feels the same way, well, then, I guess I don’t have to feel so wierd about it.