Of myself I am nothing. There was a time when I did not exist. Whatever I have, I hold not of myself, but in God. He is my creator. Why did He who saw before Him the farthermost depths of eternity, the innumerable and invisible throng of souls that He might bring into being, create me? From among that countless number of souls that He was free to call into existence or leave uncreated as He willed, why did the Lord choose me, neglecting the millions of others? Why did He draw me forth from that immense crowd of potential beings?
I consider all this, but I reason about it theoretically. Am I sufficiently convinced of it in practice? Do I sense my absolute, continual dependence upon God? Is my life permeated with the thought of it?
I shall often come back to this thought as does the Psalmist:
Lord, thou hast proved me, and known me: thou hast known my sitting down, and my rising up._________________
Thou hast understood my thoughts afar off: my path and my line thou hast searched out.
And thou hast foreseen all my ways: for there is no speech in my tongue.
Behold, O Lord, thou hast known all things, the last and those of old: thou hast formed me, and hast laid thy hand upon me.
Thy knowledge is become wonderful to me: it is high, and I cannot reach to it.
Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy face?
If I ascend into heaven, thou art there: if I descend into hell, thou art present.
If I take my wings early in the morning, and dwell in the utter most parts of the sea:
Even there also shall thy hand lead me: and thy right hand shall hold me. (Psalm 138, 1-10.)
Adapted from Meditations for Religious
by Father Raoul Plus, S.J. (© 1939, Frederick Pustet Co.)
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