Loving is the syntax of prayer. To be effective pray-ers, we need to be effective lovers. In "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," Samuel Coleridge declares, "He prayeth well, who loveth well." Coleridge, of course, got this idea from the Bible, for its pages breathe the language of divine love. Real prayer comes not from gritting our teeth but from falling in love. This is why the great literature on prayer is frankly and wonderfully erotic. "The Trinity," writes Juliana of Norwich, "is our everlasting lover." "O my love!" exclaims Richard Rolle. "O my Honey! O my Harp! O my psalter and canticle all the day! When will you heal my grief? O root of my heart, when will you come to me?" "Jesus, Lover of my soul," pleads Charles Wesley. "Let me to thy bosom fly.""O root of my heart." This is the first time I have heard God called the "root of my heart." I absolutely love this metaphor. I mean, look at what roots do for trees. First of all, there is no tree without a root. The roots must come first. Roots give a tree life by soaking up the water and nutrients in the ground. Often, the roots of a tree are quite larger than the tree itself. When the roots run out of room to grow, the tree does not remain healthy. Roots also keep a tree grounded in the face of extreme conditions. They make it very difficult to dig up the tree even when a great amount of effort is spent.
The parallels between the root of a tree and the root of a heart are obvious. God is my creator, my sustainer, the one who keeps me grounded in Him and His Word (John 1), and is my greatest, most important feature. He is at the bottom of my inner, most vital part: my heart. Even if the tree on which I bear fruit is withered or cut down, my root will still exist.
Lord, thank you for being the root of my heart. Help me to love you, to focus on you and to draw strength from both your Living Water and your nutritious Word. Amen.
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