Brother Lawrence

I was looking through my Thailand journal the other day and came across the notes I had taken while I was there from the book The Practice of the Presence of God by/about Brother Lawrence, a French monk of a few centuries ago who found his peace in 'doing that for God's sake which we commonly do for our own', living a life of nothing but worship whilst carrying out his duties as cook for the monastery.

I had been on the lookout for this book for some time, having heard good things of it, and lo and behold, it turned up on the bookshelf in my bedroom at the OMF hostel in Bangkok the night before we came home. It was very helpful as I tried to gather my thoughts at the end of the trip. [Incidentally, I later discovered that my Dad and sister were very enthusiastically reading Philip Yancey's discussion of the book in Reaching for the Invisible God at exactly the same time that I was reading it on my bunk - at different times of the day on account of the time difference, but, you know, actually at the same time.]

Anyway, I wrote down some of the parts that particularly hit home with me, and thought they might benefit some of you as they did me:

All that he had heard others say, all that he had found [about God] in books, all that he had himself written, seemed savourless, dull and heavy, when compared to what faith had unfolded to him of the unspeakable riches of God and of Jesus Christ. He alone...can reveal Himself to us; we toil and exercise our mind in reason and in science, forgetting that therein we can see only a copy, whilst we neglect to gaze on the Incomparable Original. In the depths of our soul, God reveals Himself, could we but realise it, yet we will not look there for Him.

*

We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for the love of Him, and that done, if there is nothing else to call me, I prostrate myself in worship before Him, Who has given me grace to work; afterwards I rise happier than a king.

*

In God we shall see more clearly what we lack than we could in ourselves by all our introspection; which in reality is but the remnant, unexpelled, of self-love, which, under the guise of zeal for our own perfection, keeps our gaze down on self instead of raised to God.

*

Let him [who seeks fellowship with God] think of Him as often as he can, especially in the greatest dangers. A little lifting of the heart suffices. A little remembrance of God, one act of inward worship...are prayers, which however short, are nonetheless very acceptable to God.

I confess some of this is still too much for me. The first quote troubles me somewhat, because I don't think I know how to 'gaze on the Incomparable Original'. I know how to meditate on His goodness, His attributes, but not how to look on Him directly - what does that even mean? Yet it feels like it means something, and that what he's saying is right.

What I love best is the last one. 'A little lifting of the heart' - what a beautiful phrase! I mean to hang onto it for life. I like the metaphor, and to picture it as I do it. It's what it's all about, isn't it? It's the one thing that works, even when you feel like it won't because you haven't earned the right to lift your heart to Him today. I could carry on a sight more about how much I like that phrase, but...won't.