O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I am impressed by my own spiritual insights. I probably know more about prayer, meditation, and contemplation than most Christians do. I have read many books about the Christian life. Still, as impressed as I am, I am more impressed by the enormous abyss between my insights and my life. It seems as if I am standing on one side of a huge canyon and see how I should grow toward you, live in your presence and serve you, but cannot reach the other side of the canyon where you are. I can speak and write, preach and argue about the beauty and goodness of the fife I see on the other side, but how, O Lord, can I get there? Sometimes I even have the painful feeling that the clearer the vision, the more aware I am of the depth of the canyon. Am I doomed to die on the wrong side of the abyss? Am I destined to excite others to reach the promised land while remaining unable to enter there myself? Sometimes I feel imprisoned by my own insights and “spiritual competence.” You alone, Lord, can reach out to me and save me. You alone. I can only keep trying to be faithful, even though I feel faithless most of the time. What else can I do but keep praying to you, even when I feel dark, to keep writing about you, even when I feel numb; to keep speaking in your name, even when I feet alone. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Have mercy on me, a sinner. Amen.

–Henri Nouwen, A Cry for Mercy

I think Nouwen’s prayer represents well the plight of the human condition. Obviously as a priest this appeals directly to what I do but let us not miss the underlying predicament and hope here. Even in the midst of hopelessness we have hope, even if we must cling to it by our fingernails.