Generally, Latin-based scripts fall into two categories: formal—the scripts used as the instrument of authority; and informal—the cursive or quickly written scripts used for everyday transactions. History repeatedly shows formal scripts degenerating into cursive forms, which are, in turn, upgraded, finally achieving formal status as new hands in their own right.
—David Harris, The Art of Calligraphy, 6
The engraved invitation is formal. The cursive scrawl on torn notebook paper, even if it’s letting you know you’re welcome at the wedding, is not. The hand-written thank-you note on 20 lb. vellum gets your attention in a way a tweet or voicemail can’t convey, no matter how cheerfully you chirp.
Still, I believe we need some of both when it comes to prayer, which is our way of verbally placing ourselves in the presence of God.
At times, prayer is a casual, cursive conversation, a garden walk on a bright afternoon. You can sense God strolling along with you, smelling the flowers, humming a silly tune. You chat about the weather and the Final Four. God points out a cloud that looks like a swan. You laugh and shake your head, because you think it looks like a bear.
But at other times, prayer is hand-lettered, in careful meter and verse. You get out the good stationery of the soul, dip your spirit’s pen in the inkwell and let your lifeblood flow. You scent the prayer with your best eau de toilette and seal with hot wax. The subject matter is serious, deep, moving, rooted in longing, skirting the edge of loneliness or despair.
Cursive at times, at others engraved, my prayers have led me on a good journey. I hope your prayer life has been richly varied this season. I hope you have been able to listen for God.
Along the Way, I wish you God’s peace on today’s stage of your Lenten spiritual journey. May Christ’s companionship bless you with confidence for the day, comfort you in trouble, and put a spring of joy in your step
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