You gave me my wings before I was born And now they have seen a lot of life Broken as they are I ask and I cry - Restore my wings With the brightest of light. I didn't deserve them then And I don't deserve them now But I want to fly again Higher and freer So, I can gaze upon your face And bathe in what love is really like. Carry me away to Heaven tonight And return me to this precious Earth So, I can spend the rest of my days Remembering those wounds that demand I use my wings to destroy what is wrong and Protect what it right. Lift me up from the mundane Make my wings whiter than snow So I can stay in this fight and Dispense a measure of might That brings their every breath to whisper, Come, Holy Spirit, come. Silhouette of Woman at Sunrise · Free Stock Photo

We whisper before I sleep And embrace as I awake. We walk hand in hand along the wooded paths And sip the cool breezes bathed in the sun. We reach the cliff's edge And marvel at the ocean's great expanse. With a deep and abiding breath, I know Eternity is set before me. And yet that same small tear builds in my eye Because I know the work You gave me is not yet done. Your warmth is what will carry me through I am sure of it, because Our love has no bounds. Endless mountain terrain under overcast sunset sky · Free Stock Photo

My Dearest Babylas, You were a man, a hesychast, and a martyr of two worlds (3rd c.). You were born in the East, lived in the West, and sought the quietude of prayer. But the forces of paganism - that always stand against the Trinty, Our Savior, and The Holy Spirit - were not content until you were pushed from Rome and then from the mountain where you communed with God. Fleeing to Sicily, you converted many of God's creatures to the faith. But evil would have its way with you again when the governor there had you arrested, tortured, and killed by the sword. When he decided to add insult to the injuries that he inflicted on you (along with Timothy and Agapius), the governor tried to have you burned. But the Lord intervened, and the faithful Christians there proudly buried you as a warrior and martyr for Christ. Today, we ask you to teach us how to have your strength. Show us steadfastness in the midst of attack. Intercede for us so that we can do our part to shatter the powerless boldness of demons! With love and prayer always, Fr. Thomas The Palatine Chapel (Italian: Cappella Palatina) is the royal chapel of the Norman Palace in Palermo, Sicily. Credit: Pistillo99, Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain Some of the information for this post was gathered from here .

There is never enough sky for the contemplative And no mountain tall enough for the hesychast. There is never enough sand in the desert for the ascetic And not one ocean wide enough for the eremitic. All things physical pale in comparison to the mystical. And yet, nature is the closest thing we have to a tabernacle for those who seek the apophatic. My Dearest Anthony, my namesake, This is the heart of what I have learned from pondering you, your life, your faith, your prayer, your courage to leave the city, and your constant desire to seek God. You encountered the anchorites in the desert and sought the wisdom of their spiritual fathers. Then you sought complete solitude, so you could give all of yourself to God. Once you had counted all the grains of sand and all the stars in the sky, God called you forth to heal the sick, exorcise the demoniacs, and counsel the confused. Today, on this special day, I ask for your intercession before the Most Holy Trinity so that I may continue to learn how to pray and to live as St. Paul the Simple did, when you accepted him as your first disciple even in his brokenness and old age. With gratitude and devotion, Fr. Thomas P.S. Please show me where to find just a little more sky. An icon of St. Anthony the Great, the founder of all Christian monasticism, who is commemorated on January 17.

I remember the early days of Amazon, when it wasn't much more than an online bookstore. A lot has changed since then. In fact, the other day I happened to look at my order history, which stretched back to the late 90s, and it proved to be quite a walk down memory lane! The collection of books on patristics, eschatology, Pneumatology, and all manner of theology, ecclesiastical history, and contemplative prayer - as well as a few DVDs (and yes, streaming is way better) - felt like a strange digital record of this journey that turned into the priesthood, a PhD, and an out-of-this-world encounter with God and His people that I hoped for, but never could have come close to imagining. One book that stood out for me was The Life of Moses by St. Gregory of Nyssa whom we commemorate today (January 10). I remember the feeling of wonderment I had pouring over Gregory's words: "The manifestation of God to the great Moses began with light; afterwards God spoke to him in the cloud; next when Moses became more exalted and perfect he saw God in the darkness" ( The Life of Moses , II, 96 on the parts of the soul). In one moment, all of my questions had an answer. Then all of my answers had new questions. For example, while fundamentally encouraging the solitary life so as to enter into the illuminated darkness of God, St. Gregory (in mirroring Moses' life) also writes of the need to return to society to help others. Every day of my life I ask God: "Is this what you want of me?" And, if so, "how do I even come close to doing it?" The most distinctive teaching of St. Gregory's - and what resonated deep within me - is the idea of eternal progress. In other words, rather than thinking about the spiritual life as something with a goal that can be achieved in this life, he describes it as an infinite succession of steps that continues even in death ... meaning that there is no such thing as a completed journey into God. Somehow this was consonant with the spiritual mind and heart God gave me. Thus, it became an important part of my interior architecture that led to a life truly and deeply laboring to understand apophatic theology and hesychastic prayer. When I look back over the course of my life, there are no words to describe how grateful I am to God for this journey. (Of course, at an infinitely smaller level, I am also pleased that the words of St. Gregory, and the other great theological and spiritual minds of Christian history, can be shared at the click of a button.) To bring this reflection to a close, I will leave you with a quote that also comes from St. Gregory, but outside The Life of Moses itself. "Scripture teaches by this, I think, that he who desires to behold God sees the object of his longing in always following him. The contemplation of his face is the unending journey accomplished by following directly behind the Word." An icon of St. Gregory of Nyssa.

The Holy Spirit communicates and each of us must listen carefully to discern what is being ‘said.’ St. Seraphim of Sarov, who is commemorated on January 2, is emphatic about this. Simply put, in prayer we may be granted a conversation with Jesus. But when the Holy Spirit descends to dialogue with us, silence must reign in our minds and hearts. In his famous work, On the Acquisition of the Holy Spirit , St. Seraphim explains why and how. First, we hunger and thirst for the Spirit. Then we humbly "call upon His holy Name." Third, we "lovingly ...receive Him, the Comforter, in the mansions of our souls." In other words, our longing for the Holy Spirit requires quietude from us. That is why it is said: ‘Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.’ (Ps. 45[46]:10). That is, I will appear and will continue to appear to everyone who believes in Me and calls upon Me, and I will converse with Adam in Paradise, with Abraham and Jacob and other servants of Mine, with Moses and Job, and those like them. What we should take from this is that the Holy Spirit will come to those who believe and call out for Its presence. As such, we must learn how to stay still, keep quiet, and listen to the uncreated silence of the Holy Spirit. St. Seraphim explains that this kind of hearing contains ‘all the words of eternal life.’ Astonishing, isn't it? Let us pray for one another that we may offer ourselves completely to hearing the Holy Spirit. An icon of St. Seraphim of Sarov .

Life is hard But God is good And you are strong. Pray. Confess. Get anointed. And receive the Eucharist. Live faith Have hope, and Share love. Be Not Afraid! Starry Sky Over Mountains · Free Stock Photo

On December 29, the Church commemorates the unknown martyrs. This day of remembrance is focused on those who died for the sake of Christ but are not recorded anywhere. While the Church usually honors people who were well known by their contemporaries as heroic in the faith, today we are reminded that God exalts the nameless who sought to do the will of God and were put to death for it. As such, the glory of these unknown saints (to us, anyway) will be revealed at the Last Judgment. This Synaxis originally took place in the church of the Most Holy Theotokos at Chalkoprateia, which is a district in Constantinople, west of Hagia Sophia. An icon of All Saints Troparion — Tone 4 Your holy martyrs O Lord, / through their sufferings have received incorruptible crowns from You, our God. / For having Your strength, they laid low their adversaries, / and shattered the powerless boldness of demons. / Through their intercessions, save our souls!

Let us pray for one another! Now is the time to reorient ourselves to the serious task of intercessory prayer. Nativity, Theophany, and the New Year are times of significance that cause us to reflect on God, love, and the renewal of life. They are moments that remind us of the gift of salvation, the call to offer the self, and the need to build relationships. And every bit of this comes from and goes through the spiritual life. That is why it is vital to think through what it means to pray. Has your prayer become self-centered and self-serving? Do you remember others in name only? Do you really ask others what they genuinely need spiritually? Do you seek God's guidance and the intercession of saints and angels on behalf of others? If not, then it's time to start up again. Here's how: Spend at least 10 minutes in prayer each day. Set it as an appointment on your calendar. Lay aside everything else: phones, television, and the internet. Find a quiet place in your home, outside, even in your car. Close yourself off to all distractions and Dedicate that time to building a relationship with God. (Think about it like this: can you imagine not spending at least 10 minutes a day with your spouse, child, or best friend? How much more time should you be communing with God?) God wants to hear from you and help you. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are always closer than you think. But you have to do your part, too. And it has to be done in the silence of your heart and mind. So, seek a place to sit, quietly by yourself. Decide to be in the presence of God. Let God reorient your perspective on prayer. Towards ... deepening Christ's love in your heart ... bringing you closer to the will of God, and ... changing the lives of others. Pray for us, Archangel Selaphiel, so we may know how to pray to God and for each other.

There is a river lying deep in the soul. Its waters flow from the Jordan and through Every Baptism since. There is also a light shining upon that interior sea. Its effulgence radiates from the Upper Room and All the tongues of fire ever seen and unseen. This still, superabundant presence is an Encounter of the Divine Who is omnipresent, omniscient, Immutable and immovable... Always and everywhere Loving, calling Leading and Moving us... Inviting us deeper within ... to repent ... to believe ... to seek union. So, where are we in this? ... our love? ... our sacrifice? ... our movement toward... The Most Holy Trinity: ... the Father who creates ... the Son who redeems ... the Spirit who sanctifies. Who desires our transfiguration, which Is not a process but an acceptance. A work of such deep reciprocal love That theosis is possible Not by our own agency But by the descent of Christ Who gave us the right of assent And the Spirit of Truth Who makes possible our ascent. Underwater Waves · Free Stock Photo

I've been serving on the altar since I was seven years old. One Sunday, when I was nine, I was kneeling at the side of the altar after Communion, praying intently before a large Crucifix, which dominated a rather plain nouveau apse. It was then and there that I had the first of many personal encounters with God (each and every one undeserved). While I am well aware of the psychological, intellectual, physical, and relational aspects of what could have made me think I was encountering Christ, after decades of prayer, repentance, and consultation with spiritual fathers, there is absolutely no doubt that I experienced a very brief moment of theoria in the innocence of my youth. What also remains vivid for me from that day is the experience I had of telling my parents about it. Keep in mind that they were devout Roman Catholics who prayed the Rosary frequently and never missed Mass. My mother's faith was disciplined, intense, and intellectually curious. My father's faith was expressed as hard working, loving, and reflective. So, it comes as no surprise that tears rolled down my face as I started to explain the intensity of the presence of God within me (I described it then as Jesus looking at me and talking to me, but today I would properly refer to its noetic character). After I was done talking, there was an expectant silence during which I noticed out of the corner of my left eye that my father nodded reassuringly. Then my mother turned toward me and said my ‘story’ was beautiful and that I shouldn’t really tell anyone what had happened. I do not think she doubted me. I think she wanted to protect me. But I also think that she did not know what to do with what I experienced. After that, I began doing what I've done ever since. Pray. Serve. Partake of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. Read the saints. Study theology. Go to Confession. Back there and back then (without the Internet), I attended classes at church every Wednesday, absorbed our abridged copy of Butler's Lives of the Saints , devoured Eusebius' Ecclesiastical History , explored the Catechism , perused the Summa Theologica , read Augustine's Confessions , and, on my 17th birthday, received a copy of Thomas Merton's Seven Storey Mountain . One might recognize this as a proper Catholic upbringing. But it was more than that. It was the first etchings of a map ... the kind that invisibly exists in the faces burnished on every icon. These were the moments of my first rocky steps up the mountain ... toward the contemplative life. A life of suffering, service, repentance, and glimpses of God. That is why, today, on the 56th anniversary of Merton's death (10 December 1968), and the 36th anniversary of my reading his most famous work, I am grateful for that complicated, brilliant, faithful, sinful, thoughtful priest and monastic. Whether I am supposed to say this in public or not, I cannot deny the impact Merton's work had on me. There are many others of course, mainly Eastern Christian ones, but he has never left my side. A fellow traveler ... a fellow Thomas ... believing, praying, serving, thinking, doubting, failing ... seeking Christ ... living in the Holy Spirit ... and contemplating ... contemplating the Triune God in life and in death. A photo of Thomas Merton.

There was an hourglass Filled with two kinds of sand The first was named Chronos. The second, Kairos. When I came into the world I already knew about Kairos Born from God and Made to return to Him. Then I grew. Not, at first, in wisdom But in curiosity About the world around. It was there that I met Chronos And decided I ought to explore Its rhythm and Let it compose the measures of my life. Until the vicissitudes of time Seemed to overtake the silent inflections Of the Unoriginate Kairos , which Created, invited, and elevated. When I look back now, I see how much was scattered. I am saddened by what was missed Broken by what was lost. Somehow, though The Eternal One never left the Deep recesses of my soul. I could always feel the spiration of Kairos. Rising and falling as that which is Unknowable. Loving, consoling, healing Revealing, calling, and Expecting a response that would finally break the glass To drain the sands of Chronos. And flood it with the sands of the desert Made and known by Kairos Who stands before, during, and after all time. Now there is an hourglass That is filled only with Kairos And the few grains of Chronos that count The meager years I have left. In this world, which is The desert of all deserts Across which I crawl and The mountain of all mountains Up which I climb Seeking only Kairos That time of eternity In which I see the Illuminated Darkness And hear the Uncreated Silence. This is God The Holy Trinity One in Essence and Undivided. Desert Sand · Free Stock Photo