God be in my head and in my understanding.
God be in my eyes and in my looking.
God be in my mouth and in my speaking.
God be in my heart and in my thinking.
God be in my end and my departing.
I'm not sure anyone knows the author of this prayer, and yet I'm thankful for the saint that encompassed a God-full living in these five short lines.
At so many points in my day I recognize the absence of this Godward living. Mostly the petty and trite and immediate are the things that fill my head. Mostly God is not in my eyes, given as there are to distraction and wandering. Mostly God is not in my mouth, but I am, speaking of myself. Mostly I find myself thinking down broad avenues that may take me far afield of God. God be in my heart. So, I'm thankful for a prayer that calls me back, for a God that fills me even though ignored. For grace and possession by Christ.
I have to end that intrusive Twitter feed that keeps popping up on my screen, falsely urgent, telling me all the latest. I have to appreciate beauty but deny second looks. God be in my eyes. My friend across the lunch table is speaking to me of something important, and I am thinking of the next thing to say. God be in my head (and hearing). As I speak to co-workers, servers, janitorial staff, friends, family, grocery store checkers, and the homeless person walking toward me, with his need showing, God be in my speaking. I have to give feet to the prayer, be deliberate about its askings, cooperate in God's plan and working. So God be in my feet, in my walking.
God be all in all. God be everywhere and in all.
God even be in my end, in my one day departing well.
[The prayer is found in an addedum to Peter Kreeft's Prayer: The Great Conversation, a book I highly recommend.