NeuroDivine

In the quiet rhythm of morning prayer, Psalm 5 opens with a plea for God to hear—not just words, but groanings, sighs, the unspoken language of the heart. For someone who experiences the world through a different sensory and emotional lens, this psalm feels like sanctuary. It affirms that God listens not only to eloquence but to the raw, unfiltered truth of our being. The psalmist’s longing for order, for clarity between good and evil, resonates deeply with a mind that seeks structure and integrity in a world that often feels chaotic.

Wisdom 2 reveals the voice of those who mock the righteous, who see gentleness and truth as weakness. It’s a painful mirror of how difference is often misunderstood. The righteous one is described as “a reproof to our thoughts,” someone whose mere presence unsettles the status quo. For those who live with a heightened sensitivity to injustice, this passage is both familiar and affirming. It reminds us that being set apart—whether by faith, neurodivergence, or vocation—is not a flaw but a calling. The suffering of the just is not meaningless; it is a participation in something eternal.

Mark 10 brings us to Jesus welcoming children, blessing them, and declaring that the kingdom belongs to such as these. There’s a tenderness here that speaks to those who have been told they are too much or not enough. Jesus does not ask the children to change before coming to him. He receives them as they are. In a tradition that values stability, humility, and listening with the ear of the heart, this moment is a profound invitation: to approach God not with polished performance, but with authenticity, simplicity, and trust.

Together, these readings form a tapestry of divine attentiveness, of the dignity of the misunderstood, and of the sacredness of being fully oneself before God. They call us to live faithfully, even when the world does not understand, knowing that in God’s presence, every sigh is heard, every difference is embraced, and every child—however they come—is welcomed.