Piero della Francesca. The Resurrection (detail). Fresco, around 1460. Museo Civico, Sansepolcro (Italy)
By Rev. Craig Love
THIS WINTER, as I lay sick in bed for over a week, I found myself unable to do much at all besides sleeping and praying. My appetite for food was strangely lacking, but I could not afford such a luxury as neglecting to pray.
Being unable to read, with a deep ache permeating my body, including my head, I was left without the Prayer Book to pray with, & the only scriptures I had were those that came to mind. And so, most of the time, I just prayed from the heart, soaking in Christ's presence. Stating my complaints, my fears, and my hopes for recovery, here and there I felt assured by the subtle yet comforting power of the Holy Spirit.
For intercessions, I imagined looking out on the faces of the faithful in the two parishes I serve, praying through the pews from left to right, person by person, recalling the special needs of each, confident that Christ heard, and was holding them close while I was away.
After making my way through the pews, I prayed for the good and faithful souls shut in, interceding for their particular needs. That is how I peopled my solitude. That is how I remained present with the dear people who I knew were praying for me, gaining strength by leaning into the body of Christ.
As I write this, I am still on the mend. I have returned to saying my daily “book prayers,” but now, before doing so I close my eyes to pray more freely, ranging about as the mind leads me, just having a talk with God. And so, as much as I am glad to be up and around, my days of sickness have left me with precious spiritual fruit. Sometimes it takes being in the dark to see more clearly the constant glow of Christ in our midst.
Rev. Craig Love is an AFP Executive and Rector of St. Luke's & St. Thomas the Apostle, Cambridge.