NeuroDivine

Psalm 63 | Isaiah 11:10–12:6 | Matthew 8:23–34 | Rule, Chapter 43

“My soul thirsts for you, O God.” The psalmist’s cry is not only spiritual but bodily. On Friday, as the machine hums and the hours stretch, I feel that thirst in my own flesh. Yet it is not a thirst of emptiness—it is a longing for presence, for mercy, for the rhythm of care that sustains me. Even tethered, I seek God early, and I find Him in the quiet dignity of waiting.

Isaiah offers a vision of gathering: the root of Jesse as a signal to the nations, the scattered drawn together, the wolf and lamb at peace. I know what it is to feel scattered—by illness, by expectation, by interruptions that pull me from the ordered rhythm of prayer. Yet here too is promise: that all will be gathered, not by force but by peace, not by exclusion but by welcome. In the dialysis chair, I am gathered into a community of care, into a rhythm not chosen but embraced, into a hope that divisions will be healed.

Matthew tells of storms and swine, of chaos and fear. The disciples panic, but Christ sleeps in the boat until He rises to still the waves. On Friday, I feel both storm and stillness—the storm of weariness and hours given over, the stillness of Christ’s presence that does not abandon me in the clinic. He calms not by removing the storm but by being with me in it.

The Rule reminds us: “Let nothing be put before the Work of God.” Even lateness is named, seen, corrected—not to shame but to call back to presence. Better to be inside, even in the last place, than to drift outside into idleness. On dialysis days, I cannot always arrive at the appointed hour. My body dictates its own timing. Yet the Rule teaches that even if I come late, even if I stand apart, I am still inside the oratory of God’s care. The Work of God is not lost to me. Presence is.

So today I offer my lateness, my tether, my storm, my thirst. I stand in the last place, not excluded but seen. I let the machine hum as a psalm, the nurse’s nod as a verse, the gathered patients as a choir. And I remember: the Work of God is not bound by clocks or choirs. It is bound by mercy. And mercy meets me here.