Sanctuary Lamp

When the sanctuary lamp
of my soul grows dim
and my prayer feels dry
and hope seems slim

I drag through life
on little sleep
heavy with worry
my constant keep

For reasons uncertain
this trembling heart
fails to accept
the love You impart

Your wise and holy wisdom
Your will meant just for me
is cast out by sinful desires
they are all my mind can see

What I want is not what You want
nor can it ever be
for all my frantic grasping
will keep me far from Thee

But there's nothing to fear
for all is surely well
I've only to remain steadfast
and my spirit will swell

With joys and with love
from your beautiful source
Your most Sacred Heart
in the Eucharist, of course

So Jesus stay near me
no matter how hard
I push You away
Your will to discard

I sit before your tabernacle
Your holy house of life
please remove my lack of fervor
ease my relentless strife

O sanctuary lamp of my soul
forever burn bright and strong
reminding me of God's constant presence
deep within me all along

Smoldering Wick

"A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench."  Isaiah 42:3

Each day I strike the match and lift the flame to the wick of the blessed candle watching it flicker, nearly go out, and then, suddenly burn strong as the fire takes its full effect.  I breathe a prayer over the flame and then walk away, trusting that my prayer will burn strong, carrying the heat of my love to heaven, to the Heart of God.

But the next day, I return to find that the flame has gone out.  The wax has completely evaporated and all that is left is a metal stub in the bottom of the glass votive holder.  My prayer has gone cold.

My spirit is often the same way.  I begin the day in silent prayer and He floods my soul with His peace.  The flame is lit.  As the day wears on I work hard, full of energy and ambition, completely on fire for the Lord and willing to do whatever it takes to serve Him.  I go about my daily duties and am soon confronted by difficulties-conflicts with co-workers and family, challenging paperwork that is beyond my abilities, weariness and frustration from too much to do.  The peace of my early morning prayer seems so distant.  Like that prayer candle, my flame has dimmed and I am left with a chill in my soul.

Tomorrow I will begin again-I will strike the match and light the wick of the candle.  And God will strike the match and ignite the wick of my soul. It's a never-ending cycle, this life of faith.  I pray that God will always fan the flames of my love for Him whenever the cold breezes of life threaten to snuff them out.  I long to burn strong forever, warmed by His love every day of this life into eternity.