THEOSISAugustine of Hippo
No greater gift could God bestow on humanity than giving us His Word, through which all creation came into being, with Christ as its Head, uniting all as His members. This union allows the Son of God to be both divine and human, enabling us to pray for mercy without separating the Son from the Father. When the Son's Body prays, He remains one with His Head. There is but one Savior of His Body: our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who intercedes for us both as our Priest and within us as our Head. We, in turn, offer our prayers to Him as our God. Thus, we must recognize His words within us and our words within Him. When we hear prophecies speaking of our Lord Jesus Christ suggesting humility befitting neither divinity nor dignity, we should not hesitate to apply it to Him who willingly joined us. To Him we pray, the one who, existing in the form of God, humbled Himself and assumed the form of a servant: the Creator took on created form so that we might be made one with Him—Head and Body as one singular Man. Therefore, we approach Him in prayer, and He speaks to us, echoing the prayer of David found in the psalms. Our Lord, according to the flesh, is the son of David, yet in His divine nature, He is Lord over David and the source of all creation.
Let no one, upon hearing these words, claim that "Christ does not speak," nor should they say, "I do not speak." If they understand themselves to be part of Christ’s Body, they should affirm both: "Christ speaks" and "I speak." One should not desire to express anything apart from Him; neither will He express anything without us.
“Incline Your ear, O Lord, and hear me” (Psalm 85:1). He speaks in a servant's form: "Speak, O servant, in the image of your Lord; incline Your ear, O Lord." He bends His ear toward the humble, distancing Himself from the proud, except for those He raises from their lowly state. Thus, when God bends His ear toward us, He acknowledges us. He is high above, and we are lowly—not abandoned, for Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Rarely would someone die for a just man, though perhaps a good man might find someone willing to die. But our Lord, in His great mercy, died for the ungodly. No deserving act of ours prompted the Son of God’s sacrifice; the absence of merit emphasizes His mercy. His promise remains true and unwavering: He preserves life for the righteous and gives death to the wicked.
I am poor and sorrowful. The wealthy do not compel His ear; it is to the humble, those in need and confessing their need for mercy that He listens. The self-satisfied, who boast of their worthiness, like the Pharisee who thanked God for not being like the publican—this attitude brings no favor with Him. The poor publican, on the other hand, was honest in his repentance.
Nevertheless, my brothers, let not my words imply that God does not hear those born into wealth; rather, they must remember the Apostle's words: “Charge the rich in this world that they be not haughty” (1 Timothy 6:17). The ungodly may seem rich but are poor in God. The needy know their true hope is not found in worldly riches, which offer only a temporary illusion of abundance. It is enough that worldly riches do not ruin them; true goodness cannot be found there. The real blessing lies in acts of charity, whether performed by the rich or the poor—both can contribute a will to do good.
When we humble ourselves and reject all that elevates us above others, we stand with God’s poor. He inclines His ear to them, recognizing the brokenness of their hearts. Was it genuinely due to the merit of poverty that the poor man was carried away by angels (Luke 16:19-24), or was it the sin of riches that condemned the rich man? The poor man's honor lies in the virtue of humility, while the rich man's pride leads to his condemnation.
Consider briefly this: it was not riches but pride that tormented the rich man. The poor man was taken to Abraham's side, though Scripture describes Abraham as quite wealthy himself (Genesis 13:2). If all rich men were destined for torment, how could Abraham have been present to welcome the poor man? Yet Abraham, despite his wealth, displayed true humility, willing to sacrifice his son at God's command (Genesis 22:10).
Thus, learn the essence of true poverty and desperation, regardless of your worldly possessions.
“Preserve my soul, for I am holy” (Psalm 84:2). Can anyone justly claim, “I am holy”? Only He who walked the earth free from sin, the one who did not merely forgive sins but obliterated them. We recognize that His voice speaks, “Save my soul, for I am holy” in the servant's form He embraced. Indeed, in this mystery of flesh, He also possessed a soul. For there is a distinction; He was not just Flesh and Word but embodying both, the One Son of God, the One Christ, our One Savior, equal to the Father in divinity, yet serving as the Head of the Church in His humanity.
When I hear “For I am holy,” I recognize His voice; yet can I exclude my own? As He speaks to us, He does so inseparably from His Body. Can I presume to say, “For I am holy”? If holy in the sense of sanctifying others without needing sanctification, such a claim would stem from pride and lies. Yet if I claim to be holy only through His grace, as it is written, “Be holy, for I am holy” (Leviticus 19:2), then surely the Body of Christ can declare, “I am holy.” This is because we receive the grace of sanctification, baptism, and forgiveness of sins (1 Corinthians 6:11).
Thus, say to God: “I am holy, not through my merit but because You have sanctified me.” For to claim otherwise would diminish our Lord Jesus Christ, as faithful Christians who are baptized into Him have put on Christ (Galatians 3:27). If they, as members of His Body, deny their holiness, they do harm to their Head, whom they represent.
Recognize where you belong; raise your dignity from your Head. Once, you dwelled in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord (Ephesians 5:8). You were darkness, yet has the Illuminator come merely for you to remain in darkness, or for you to be enlightened by Him?
Every Christian bears this burden, and hence the very Body of Christ can simultaneously express the groans of sorrow and cries for deliverance: “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). The notion of “all day” implies continual cries, from when the Body of Christ suffers until the final day when tribulations cease. Each of us, in our way, plays a role in this collective sigh of the Body. You wept here; others in their times have wept too. One, over there, with similar sorrows; some have entered into rest while others still labor. This is the communal experience of Christ’s Body, which He hears saying earnestly, “To You have I cried all the day long.” Our Head at the Father’s right hand intercedes on our behalf, as some members are healed, others nurtured, some chastised, some comforted, while others are called or restored.
“Cheer the soul of Your servant, for to You, O Lord, I have lifted my soul” (Psalm 85:4). Rejoice, for it is to You that I have directed my soul. It was once dwelling on earth, experiencing bitterness. I lift it to You to shield it from despondency, so that it may find joy in Your presence. Genuine joy resides in You alone; everything outside is often bittersweet or unsatisfying.
This is precisely why He cajoled His members to elevate their hearts. Let them understand the need to rise above earthly concerns, lest they decay in mundanity. If you consider food stored below, would you not elevate it? Would you leave your heart to rot while raising grain higher? Elevate your heart to heaven. But how might one do this? What ropes, machinery, or ladders are needed? Your love serves as the ascent, while disinterest leads to descent. Stand on earth, yet let your love elevate your spirit. True exultation follows divine affection, for a heart uplifted knows transformation.
“For You, O Lord, are good and merciful” (Psalm 85:5). Even prayers are often hampered by frivolous distractions, so that the heart struggles to remain focused on God. It yearns to encase itself in holiness, free from wandering thoughts aiming to deter its resolve. Such singularity of purpose is rare to find. David acknowledged this when he beseeched, “Since I have found my heart, O Lord, so that I might pray to You” (2 Samuel 7:27).
He signifies a struggle, where it seemed his heart eluded him, compelling him to seek it diligently, exclaiming to God—"My heart has abandoned me." Thus, as I contemplate his words, I discern an aspect of grace. It appears that he refers to God's mercy in enduring our faults while fostering our perfecting through prayer. When we earnestly present our prayers to Him, He graciously acknowledges our feeble offerings, overlooking all unmindful petitions to embrace the sincerity that barely emerges.
What man, when addressed by a friend, can tolerate their turning away mid-conversation to engage with another? Or when appealing to a judge, would he not be insulted if he saw the judge distracted by another while he speaks? Yet God tolerates countless hearts that pray while preoccupied with various concerns.
Should we despair over humanity and declare every man condemned for being distracted in prayer? If we do this, I fear hope might become elusive. Hence, because hope endures in God, whose mercy is abundant, let us say, “To You, O Lord, have I lifted up my soul.” How did I accomplish this? How can I regain my heart when it runs away...? Out of weakness I falter, heal me and I shall rise; empower me and I shall grow strong. Until then, bear with my shortcomings: for, indeed, You, O Lord, are good, gracious, and merciful, overflowing with mercy.
As our sins multiply, so does Your mercy toward all who call upon You. Yet, in many circumstances, the Scriptures reflect, “They shall call, and I will not hear them” (Proverbs 1:28). Yet You are gracious to everyone who earnestly seeks You. Some indeed call but do not truly yearn for You; they seek after others while neglecting the true God.
People call upon what they love; they summon what they consider their own desires. If you invoke God merely for wealth, inheritance, or status, you use Him merely as an assistant to your selfish motives rather than as one who hears your true needs. Is God genuinely benevolent if He supplies your every desire? If your desires drift toward evil, is He not more gracious in withholding them? When He stands apart when you wish for the unattainable, has God become insignificant to you? You may lament, “How often have I pleaded, yet not been heard!”
What did you truly ask? Perhaps you wished ill upon your enemy. What if, at the same moment, he prayed for your downfall? He who created you also crafted him; both are human, subject to divine judgment. Thus, God hears both prayers without granting either. Do not mourn that He did not grant your ill wishes, but rejoice that your adversary's plea was also disregarded.
You may claim your prayer for your child's welfare was righteous; what harm did you desire to cause? Perhaps you envisioned his reformation. Yet what if God foresaw that his continued existence would lead him deeper into sin (Wisdom 4:11)? If you approach God as He truly is, rest assured that your pleas will be heard.
Consider, brethren, what benefits God extends to sinners, realizing how much more He must preserve for His faithful ones. Even the most blasphemous receive the heavens and the earth daily, along with vitality, prosperity, and abundance—all gifts unique to God alone. If God grants such to the unrighteous, can we suppose He withholds from those who are righteous? Certainly not; rather, He preserves for them eternity, not merely earthly gifts.