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Meditation: Listen So That You May See
Just the other day, I overheard some laughter and a comment that struck me with both humor and truth: “Hold on—I need to put on my glasses so I can hear you better!” It’s something many of us can relate to as we age. Strangely enough, it works—we focus more intently, filtering out distractions and tuning in with greater clarity. It made me think: isn’t that what Jesus does with parables? He invites us to see more clearly by asking us to listen more deeply. Parables are Jesus’ way of storytelling—not to hand us simple moral lessons, but to draw us into mystery. These stories aren’t puzzles to solve; they are invitations to perceive with the heart, to discern truth through lived experience. As with the wisdom of many tribal cultures, parables are told not to explain, but to open space—space for the Spirit to speak to each of us, uniquely and personally. Jesus says, “I speak in parables, so that looking they may not perceive, and listening they may not understand.” On the surface, that seems like a paradox. Why would we be called to look, if not to see? Why listen, if not to understand? But spiritually, it makes perfect sense. “Let anyone with ears to hear, listen!” Jesus calls us to listen not just with our ears, but with the Spirit. When we listen that way—quieting the noise, softening our hearts—the truth of the parable becomes clear not just in our minds, but in our living. Sometimes, if we metaphorically close our eyes while listening, we begin to see what Jesus is really showing us. In one particular parable, Christ likens us to soil, inviting us to prepare ourselves to receive the seed of the Word. He is the gardener, tending to us, cultivating growth. The seed takes root, and in time—through grace—we bear fruit. Is this meditation a definitive interpretation of that parable? Not at all. It isn’t meant to be. Rather, it’s an invitation—a reminder—that when we truly listen, God reveals new insights in different moments, in various circumstances, and in unexpected ways. That’s how powerful the Word is. That’s how present God is. God has a word for every situation. And in every moment of prayer, God plants within us the fruit of the Spirit—a quiet power that can transform every circumstance. So listen closely. And you just might begin to see. Close your eyes and listen to what the Spirit is showing you to pray for today. What do you see? What prayers do you bring forward? Rev. Derrick
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Meditation– "Prayer That Strengthens: Following Jesus Into the Quiet" In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus doesn’t just teach about prayer—he lives it. Again and again, we find him retreating to pray, often alone, sometimes for hours, even through the night. There are at least nine moments in Luke’s account where Jesus prays, and these are not just pauses in the action; they are the foundation of his strength. In today’s scripture, we read: “Now during those days he went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God.” This wasn’t unusual for Jesus. But this particular moment of prayer came just before a major challenge—he would go on to heal a multitude of people, freeing them from illness and unclean spirits. Luke tells us that power went out from him. That’s the mystery and the beauty of deep prayer: sometimes we rise from it filled and strong, other times we rise spent—because we’ve poured our hearts out, or carried the burdens of others to God. And yet, even in those drained moments, Jesus shows us the way forward. He shows us that prayer isn’t always about escape or comfort—it’s also preparation. It grounds us in love before we face what the day brings. It reminds us that even when we feel weak, we are not alone. God meets us there. But Jesus also teaches us something else. Even when healing comes—even when we feel restored—we’re still living in a broken world. And that can lead us to wonder: Why pray? Why seek peace that seems so fragile? Why hope for healing that may not last? Because, Jesus reminds us, God is not absent in the brokenness. And even temporary peace points to the deeper promise: that in God, life is still blessed, still holy, even when hard. That’s why we pray. That’s why we keep showing up. We are not promised ease, but we are promised presence. And in that presence, we find the strength to “keep on, keepin’ on.” So pray—when you're strong and when you're spent. Pray—when you're healing and when you're hurting. In every moment, let prayer be the place where God meets you, and sends you out again. God is still in control. What will your strength of faith prepare you to pray for today? Rev. Derrick Our scripture today, Psalm 66.8-9, 13-19, caused me to look both into the mirror and into my own heart. I remembered the sentiment from my youth “Get yourself right with God before you prayer for others.” It was once said to me in hopes that my fervent prayers would be even more effective, more clear of a voice into the ears of God. May this gentle spirit of confession bring strength to your prayers for self, others, and the world.
Psalm 66:18 – “If I had cherished iniquity in my heart, the Lord would not have listened.” Let us pause and enter a sacred stillness—inviting the Holy Spirit to search us, not only for our own healing, but so we might become vessels of healing for others. "Cherished iniquity" is not the sin we fall into in weakness—it is the sin we hold onto in defiance. It is when we know something is wrong, yet we treasure it. We protect it. We find ways to justify it. We allow it to live comfortably within us, often naming it something harmless: a personality trait, a struggle, a preference. But in truth, it is something that separates us from the nearness of God. When we cherish iniquity, we are not just hindered personally—we are hindered spiritually. Our hearts become less tender, our prayers less clear, and our spiritual authority weaker. Our ability to intercede for others, to pray powerfully and purely, becomes dulled. If we are to be true intercessors—standing in the gap for the broken, the lost, the weary—we must first allow the Holy Spirit to clear the clutter from our own hearts. We must be willing to surrender what we have cherished that grieves the heart of God. This isn’t about shame—it’s about freedom. It’s about becoming clean conduits for grace. If we want to see strongholds broken in the lives of others, we must first allow God to break the strongholds in our own. Ask yourself:
What are the prayers on your heart today that you lift to God with a surrendered heart of humility? Rev. Derrick |
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