Lord, Teach Me to See

The Curious Pilgrim
Daily Office Reflection — Tuesday, October 6, 2026
Psalms 5, 6, 10, 11; Jonah 1:1–17; Acts 26:24–27:8; Luke 8:40–56

Someone recently told me I was neat and organized. To some degree, I suppose I am. But as I sat with today’s Daily Office readings, I began to recognize something deeper beneath the routines of my life.

As a follower of Jesus, I need a practice that helps me listen, understand, and live what I am learning. The Daily Office gives me that rhythm. I read, reflect, question, and pray. Sometimes a passage brings comfort. Sometimes it brings something about myself into view that I would rather avoid.

My first sermon, when I was fifteen, was about taking up our cross and following Jesus. Now, more than sixty years later, I am looking back and understanding those words more deeply.

I did not always see what I see today. I am still learning.

Thank you, Lord Jesus Christ, for helping me to see.

Today’s psalms brought me back to trust. Trust involves committing our whole destiny to God. That sounds beautiful until we have to live it without knowing the outcome.

I want to know how things will turn out. I want some assurance that the next step will lead where I hope it will. When life becomes stressful or discouraging, I sometimes want to withdraw. Like David seeking shelter in a cave, I need somewhere to bring my fear and exhaustion.

The psalms make room for that. They give us permission to be brutally honest with God. We can bring our tears, anger, disappointment, and questions. We can ask why God seems distant and why people who harm others appear to prosper.

That honesty belongs within faith. Sometimes trusting God sounds like, “Lord, I am afraid. I cannot see the way forward. I need you.”

I thought of the prayer attributed to St. Francis: make me an instrument of your peace. Then I thought of the Serenity Prayer: help me accept what I cannot change, give me courage to change what I can, and wisdom to recognize the difference.

Together, those prayers help me ask what trusting God requires of me today. What must I release? What responsibility must I accept? Where can I bring peace?

Then there is Jonah.

It is easy to become so occupied with the creature that swallowed him that we overlook the people aboard the ship. There is a captain trying to keep everyone alive. There are frightened sailors working to save the vessel. There is Jonah, whose decision to run has consequences for all of them.

I have been Jonah at times. Discouragement and stress have made me want to turn away from what was before me. Yet God, in mercy and grace, kept speaking and wooing me.

But Jonah also asks me to look beyond my own struggle. How does my withdrawal affect someone else? Who carries an additional burden because of my choices?

And how have others treated me when I was struggling?

The sailors try to bring the ship to land even after Jonah tells them to throw him overboard. Their compassion deserves our attention. People Jonah might not have expected to teach him anything show concern for his life.

I wonder how often I have received that kind of mercy without fully recognizing it.

In Acts, we encounter another ship. Paul is a prisoner beginning the journey toward Rome. Before leaving, he expresses his desire that those hearing him might share his faith, while being spared his chains.

Then Julius, the centurion, treats him kindly and allows him to visit friends who can care for him. The journey is difficult, and the winds slow their progress. Along the way, kindness makes a difference.

These readings remind me that our lives are bound together. Our choices affect others. Their choices affect us. We need one another’s care.

In Luke, Jairus and the woman who has suffered from bleeding for twelve years bring their need to Jesus.

Jairus falls at his feet and pleads for his dying daughter. The woman reaches through the crowd to touch his clothing. Their desperation and their trust meet in that reaching.

They ask. They seek. They knock.

I like the way those words fit together:

Ask.
Seek.
Knock.

The first letters spell ASK.

That is something I can remember when I am overwhelmed. I can ask before I understand. I can seek while I feel lost. I can knock with trembling hands.

When Jairus receives news that his daughter has died, Jesus encourages him to keep trusting. I cannot imagine how difficult that moment must have been.

Faith does not give us control over the outcome. Faithful people suffer, and faithful people die. Jesus himself faced death. An unanswered prayer for healing does not mean someone lacked sufficient faith.

I understand faith as entrusting myself to God—with my need, my fear, and my unanswered questions. When I pray for more faith, I am asking to grow in that trust.

The Jesus Prayer opens my heart:

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

Sometimes I continue:

Teach me to see.
Heal what is wounded.
Help me take the next faithful step.

The Lord’s Prayer also gives me a way to bring my daily needs into the same conversation as my longing for God’s will.

This is part of what praying without ceasing means to me. The conversation continues after I finish the readings. A passage stays with me. A question returns while I am working. Someone’s need becomes a prayer. A difficult choice sends me back to something I read that morning.

We treasure God’s word in our hearts and allow it to shape how we live. We immerse ourselves in God’s ways, and we ASK.

Over time, that practice helps me recognize when I am running, when I need help, when I must act, and when I must release what I cannot control.

That fifteen-year-old boy preached about taking up his cross and following Jesus. The man looking back is still learning what it means.

There have been times when I did not understand. There have been times when I ran. There have also been people who showed me kindness, and grace that kept inviting me to return.

Today, my prayer is gratitude.

Thank you, Lord Jesus Christ, for helping me to see.

What helps you keep your heart open to God when you cannot see how things will turn out? Who has shown you mercy along the way?

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me. Receive my honest questions and my weary heart. Help me accept what I cannot change, give me courage to change what I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Teach me to recognize how my choices affect others and to receive their kindness with gratitude. Make me an instrument of your peace. Keep teaching me to see, and help me follow you today. Amen.