A Prayer, By: Michel Quoist,

Image courtesy of: Kevin Tam

I have Fallen, Lord, once more.

 I cannot go on. I will never succeed. I’m ashamed and I don’t dare look at you.

And yet I’ve struggled, Lord, for I knew you were right near me, bending over me, watching, but temptation blew in like a hurricane and instead of looking at you…

I turned my head away. I stepped aside while you stood silent and sorrowful like the spurned fiancé who sees his loved one carried off by his rival.

When the wind died down as suddenly as it had arisen, when the lightning ceased after proudly streaking the darkness, all of a sudden I found myself alone, Lord, ashamed, disgusted with sin in my hands.

This sin that I selected as a customer selects his purchase. This sin that I’ve paid for now but cannot return because the storekeeper is no longer there, this tasteless sin, this odious sin.

The sin that now sickens me, that I once wanted but now I want no more, that  I imagined, sought, played with, fondled for a long time that I finally embraced while I coldly bypassed you. My arms outstretched, my eyes and heart irresistibly drawn. This sin that I’ve grasped and consumed with gluttony.

It’s mine now but it possesses me as the spider web holds captive the fly. It’s mine, sticks to me, flows in my veins. It fills my heart. It has slipped in everywhere as darkness slips into the forest at dusk and fills all the patches of light . I cannot get rid of it, Lord. I run from it like the master of an unwanted and mangy dog but it catches up with me and rubs joyfully against my legs. Every one must notice it. I’m so ashamed that I feel like crawling to avoid being seen. I’m ashamed of being seen by my friends. I’m ashamed most of all of being seen by you, Lord, because you love me.

But I forgot you. I forgot you because I was thinking only of myself and one can’t think of several persons at once. One must choose and I chose. But, now your voice, your look and your love, they hurt me. They weigh me down. They weigh me down more than my sin.

Lord, please don’t look at me like that because I’m naked and dirty, down and shattered with no strength left. I dare not make any more promises to you. I can only stand bowed before you.

Come on, Son. Look up. Isn’t it mainly your vanity that is wounded? If you loved me, you would grieve but you would also trust me. Do you think that there’s a limit to my love for you? Do you think for a moment I have stopped loving you? But, you rely only on yourself, Son. You must rely on me. Ask my pardon and get up quickly. You see, it’s not falling that is the worst, but staying on the ground.