Speak, Lord: Returning to the Quiet After You've Wandered Away

On contemplative practice, spiritual restlessness, and the Spouse who always welcomes us home

When I woke up this morning, my brain wasn’t ready to read from my Celtic Christian prayer book. Some mornings, my eyes don’t want to see words and my ears aren’t quite ready for sounds. So after I took care of Dog 1’s food and poop, I sat up in my bed and rested my head.

Then an old Catholic hymn echoed in my mind: “Speak, Lord, I love to listen to your voice. See, Lord, here I am.” I remember sitting next to my father in Mass as the cantor sang the refrain.

I didn’t look up the entire song so I could learn the lyrics and sing along. I just sat with the refrain for about 20 minutes, breathing slowly as the words repeated like a mantra. It was so soothing.

I confess I’ve been out of regular practice. My erratic schedule of late has either hurried my mornings or left me too exhausted to stay awake during a contemplative practice.

But I know the fruits of contemplative practice extend throughout the day. Even as I arrive at the fitness studio bouncing around like a 6-year-old at recess, I know how important it is to have the deepest part of myself held together by God.

When I allow these practices to slip away, I lose my center. The words that come out of my mouth make zero sense. My analytical brain thinks too much, and my desires for control and affirmation spin wild and unchecked. And my writing becomes equally dissociative.

Yet God always welcomes us back. We’ve all been the prodigal child, believing that there is something greater “out there” than deep within our hearts. Sure, some of those behaviors might be exciting or emotional, but eventually they grow tired.

And our egos insist that we can be fulfilled by something outside of ourselves — keeping us stepping further and further from the garden within us.

Sure — I know sometimes our contemplative practices can feel arid. Lord knows I've weathered many dry seasons. But seeking external gratification to quench that inner thirst only pulls us from our center — the love relationship with God.

I also know that I may have the most lovely experience with God in the morning, only to be swept away by the thrills of the world. Those lures pull so strong, and I forget what I value most.

It’s like cuddling with your spouse early in the morning, then secretly meeting a lover for lunch. You know that the comfort of your spouse is what you value most, but you can’t resist the temptation of the lover who promises you wild thrills.

And when you return home, guilt settles in. Your Spouse knows you went astray, but your Spouse continues to hold you close when you return, loving you so much. Your Spouse is so forgiving and hopes that you will eventually understand that the true thrill is in your Spouse’s arms.

Your Spouse’s voice is so sweet and soft in contrast with the bold and boisterous voices on the outside. It’s up to us to be quiet and still enough to perceive it.

Speak, Lord. See, Lord, here I am.