THEOSISAugustine of Hippo
No greater offering could God bestow upon humanity than the creation of His Word. Through it, He brought all things into existence, establishing Christ as their Head and connecting them to Himself as members of His body. This union allows the Son of God to also be acknowledged as the Son of Man, a singular God alongside the Father and a singular Man with humanity. Thus, when we beseech God for compassion, we ought not to sever the Son from Himself; when the Body of the Son intercedes, it does not divide the Head from the Body. There exists one Savior of His Body: our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who intercedes for us, intercedes within us, and prays as us. As a Priest, He lifts our prayers; as our Head, He embodies our supplications; we plead to Him as our God. Let us, therefore, recognize our words within Him and His words within us. When references are made to our Lord Jesus Christ, especially in prophecies that suggest a humility beneath His divine stature, we must not hesitate to connect these traits to Him who willingly joined our human condition. To Him we pray, who, in His divine nature and in His servant's form, offers His prayers. In this dynamic, we see the Creator and the created—uniting the immutable in a process of transformation, merging us into One: Head and Body. Thus, we direct our prayers to Him, through Him, and in Him; we communicate with Him, and He communicates with us. We speak through Him, and by our prayers, He vocalizes the psalm known as "The Prayer of David." For, according to the flesh, our Lord is the son of David, yet, in His divine nature, He remains the Lord of David and its Creator. Therefore, when you hear these truths, do not proclaim, "Christ does not speak," nor should you declare, "I do not speak." If you identify yourself as part of the Body of Christ, affirm both truths: Christ speaks, and I speak. Do not seek to express anything independently of Him, nor will He utter anything without you.
Incline your ear, O Lord, and listen to me. Psalm 85:1. He speaks in a servant’s form: speak, O servant, in the likeness of your Lord: incline Thy ear, O Lord. He bends His ear to those who release their burdens; for to the humble He draws near, but from the proud, He stands back, having only mercy for those whom He Himself has raised from humility. In this way, God bends His ear toward us. He is exalted; we are lowly, yet not abandoned. For Christ died for us while we were still in our sins. Rarely does one die for the righteous; perhaps for a good man, someone might dare to perish. Romans 5:8. But our Lord offered Himself for the ungodly. There were no merits in us that warranted the sacrifice of the Son of God; rather, it is precisely because there was no merit that His mercy is profound. How true and steadfast is the promise that grants life to the righteous while offering death to the wicked! I am poor and afflicted. Yet, God does not incline His ear to the wealthy; He bends it toward the humble and contrite, those who confess their need for mercy, rather than the self-satisfied, who boast as if they lack nothing, saying, "I thank You that I am not like this tax collector." The wealthy Pharisee proclaimed his virtues, while the humble tax collector acknowledged his sins. Luke 18:11-13.
Let not my words be misinterpreted, dear brethren, suggesting that God does not hear those born into riches, with grand estates or worldly titles. They must merely recall the Apostle’s warning: "Charge the rich in this world not to be haughty." 1 Timothy 6:17. The ungodly are truly impoverished, while God attends to the lowly, the needy, and the destitute. They understand that their hope lies not in material wealth but in the grace that transcends fleeting comforts. Riches should not corrupt them; they are sufficient if they do not bring harm. The good that can arise is the work of charity performed, whether by the wealthy or the poor—the wealthy by intention and action, the poor by pure intention. Thus, when one casts aside all that seeks to elevate one’s status, they embody the spirit of the impoverished before God, and He bends His ear toward them because He knows their hearts are contrite.
Consider the poor man in the parable: was it due to his poverty that he was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom? Luke 16:19-24. Or was it because of the sinful nature of the rich man that he faced torment? In the poor man, we recognize the honor granted to humility; in the rich, we see the judgment that awaits pride. I will conclusively demonstrate that it was not wealth that led to the rich man's suffering, but his pride. Surely the poor man was brought to the embrace of Abraham—the same Abraham noted for possessing great wealth in gold and silver. Genesis 13:2. If every wealthy individual were doomed to torment, how could Abraham, in his abundance, await the poor man’s arrival? Abraham, despite his riches, was known for his humility, adhering to God's commands, so much so that he was prepared to sacrifice his only son at God's request (Genesis 22:10) despite the wealth that he held dear. Learn, then, to embrace poverty of spirit, whether or not you possess material things.
Preserve my soul, for I am holy. Psalm 84:2. While I cannot claim, "I am holy," this declaration is fitting for Him who walked the earth sinlessly—the One through whom all transgressions are not just overlooked, but forgiven. When we say, "Save my soul, for I am holy," we clearly recognize His voice echoing through the flesh He took upon Himself, embodying both flesh and spirit. Do not misinterpret this; He was not merely Flesh and the Word but truly the One Son of God: the singular Christ and Savior, equal to the Father by divine nature, yet also fully human. Thus, when I hear the phrase, "For I am holy," I perceive His voice; should I then exclude my own? Certainly, when He proclaims such, He does so with His body, inseparable. May I declare, "For I am holy?" If "holy" means to sanctify others without needing sanctification myself, I would be boastful and deceitful; yet if "holy" signifies being set apart—as the Scriptures say, "Be holy, for I am holy," Leviticus 19:2—then the body of Christ can assure itself under His headship and proclaim, "For I am holy." For it is by grace we receive sanctification, grace through baptism, and the forgiveness of sins. 1 Corinthians 6:11. With our God, we confess, "I am holy, for You have sanctified me—not because of what I possess or have earned, but solely by Your giving." To do otherwise would disrespect our Lord Jesus Christ Himself; for when all sincere Christians, who have been baptized into Him, clothe themselves in Him as the Apostle affirms: "For all who have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ," Galatians 3:27, they become members of His body. If they declare themselves unholy, they harm the very Head of which they are a part. Remember from where you come; take your dignity from the Head, for you were once in darkness but now are light in the Lord. Ephesians 5:8. Were you in darkness and have you remained so? Did the Light not come that you may be transformed, to shine with His Light? Therefore, every Christian, in unity and in the face of tribulation, can exclaim: "Save my soul, for I am holy; O my God, save Your servant who trusts in You."
Be merciful to me, O Lord, for I have cried out to You all day long. Psalm 84:3. Not merely one day; rather, all day implies continuity. From the moment the Body of Christ experiences suffering, until the end of time when tribulation ceases, humanity is engaged in this lament, each playing their part in the collective cry of the body. You lamented during your days, another mourns in theirs, and yet another weeps across different realms: every segment of Christ’s Body is intertwined in this weeping. One member traverses throughout the world, combining voices, while some rest in Him, others continue to mourn, and still others will join in that cry. This unity comprises the entirety of Christ’s Body, which He hears saying, "To You have I cried all day." Our Head intercedes at the Father’s right hand, some members He heals, others He chastens, some are purified, some comforted, others called to remembrance, still others corrected, and yet others restored.
Encourage the soul of Your servant, for I have lifted it to You, O Lord. Psalm 85:4. Rejoice in it; I have lifted it up to You. For it lingered on the earth, burdened by bitterness. To prevent it from decaying in despair, to safeguard the sweetness of Your grace, I raised it to You; rejoice it alongside Yourself. True joy resides with You alone; the world is rife with bitterness. That is why He urges His members to elevate their hearts. Let them heed this call: let them offer to Him the fragments that weigh them down. There, where the heart ascends to God, it shall not erode. If you had grain in the cellar, are you not inclined to raise it higher to prevent rot? Would you allow your grain to perish while your heart remains grounded? Elevate your heart toward heaven. How can I do this, you might ask? What ropes, what contraptions, what ladders are needed? Your affections are the steps; your will is the pathway. By loving, you ascend; through neglect, you descend. While you stand upon the earth, your spirit can soar in heaven, if you love God truly. The heart is exalted not by its physical elevation but by a transformation within.
For You, O Lord, are good and merciful. Psalm 85:5. Often, even prayers are impeded by frivolous thoughts, leaving the heart scarcely fixed upon God. The mind drifts, eluding focus, finding no stable boundary to contain its chaotic movements, let alone dwell joyfully in His presence. Such genuine prayers are a rarity among the many offered. Each may acknowledge such experiences, believing their struggles to be unique. David, in Scripture, illustrates this struggle in prayer when he says, "Since I have found my heart, O Lord, so that I might pray to Thee." 2 Samuel 7:27. His claim of finding his heart suggests it had often roamed from him like a fugitive, prompting him to pursue it and beseech God with a lament: "For my heart had left me." Thus, as I ponder David's accounts, I believe we glimpse grace. He refers to God as merciful because He bears with our transgressions, longing for our prayers to shape us into perfection. When we offer our genuine supplications, He receives them gratefully, overlooking those countless unconsidered utterances, accepting instead that fleeting prayer which we can scarcely locate.
What person, dear brethren, would not be aggrieved if, while addressing a friend, they turned away to speak with another? Or if before a judge, they falter in these moments, shifting focus to someone else? Yet, God patiently tolerates the multitude who offer prayers while their thoughts wander. What shall we conclude? Should we surrender our hope and presume that every individual has been condemned for their distracted prayers? Should we harbor such despair, dear brethren? For if we do, I wonder what hope remains. Since God’s mercy exceeds all transgressions, let us proclaim, "To You, O Lord, have I raised my soul." And how did I lift it? How did You grant me strength? Once weak, I plead: heal me, and I shall rise; furnish me with strength, and I shall be restored. Until You do, bear with my weaknesses: for You, O Lord, are good and gracious, overflowing with compassion. Not merely merciful, but exceedingly so: for the greater our iniquities, the greater Your mercy shall be toward all who call upon You.