prayer today: aching confusion.
the psalms have never been so important: I am singing the lot at the moment and they glint in the light of day: almost visibly.

trying to untangle what is going on in the prayer might not be wise: a few strands: the need to sacrifice everything for the sake of you.
but why?
the need to know this is probably part of what must be forsaken - certainly, the desire for knowledge becomes a problem: you take us into a deep darkness where very little can be known or understood and if we seek to know or understand the only way is for us to rush away from you in order to do it, and then we not only will still not understand but we will have lost our way in the process. 
the desire for knowledge then (by which I mean 'understanding' - perhaps akin to the desire to stand on a hill and survey the entire scene rather than being in the battle itself where nothing can be seen in a helpful context) is linked to the desire for control, which has to be forsaken.
and why?
To say that the relationship between a person and you is not equal is so far a truism as to be ridiculous: like an ant thinking that his own weight compared to that of, say, the moon is probably not quite the same.
But it isnt of course a question of size at all. Size has nothing to do with it. Nor has context, or glory or purpose or love or anything conceptual at all: and I suppose this is where Luther might come in a little handy:
You as gift of Yourself on/despite/because of/ through/ the cross.

[My problem with this idea the other day had something to do with the fact that it is incomplete by itself (the idea I mean - as are all theological concepts in and of themselves I suppose until they are 'self-applied' that is.) The only meaning of the cross is not in itself, or even in your self-sacrifice [of itself], but in the fact that, at the foot of that cross, I am able to actually meet you. know you. discover you. Or perhaps I should say I am enabled to meet you. discover you. know you.
the cross then enables me.

Purposelessness is also immensely important here.
We look for purpose all the time: everything has to have a reason, but with you we find none and even this can send us into paroxysms of pain and confusion.
Getting used to your purposelessness is perhaps the hardest thing of all.
Perhaps this is where children have the advantage and this ties in rather neatly with what I was thinking about 'Childish' yesterday.
He says, "The interesting thing about painting pictures is painting pictures. And with music, the interesting thing is playing it."
'Interesting' is not quite the right word perhaps: its the circularity of the argument which is important here: he paints because he loves to paint; he makes music because he loves to make music. But even this doesnt make clear enough the fact that the act of painting or the act of making music has a sense of purpose built into it which is inherently of itself  and an essential aspect of the act of making art . . . . . whoops, running out of language here . . . . .purpose without purpose. Is there something intrinsically 'of God' in this perhaps?

Which takes me onto another thing today in my prayer: this thing about time and place: how each day, although I am in the same place, I am in a completely different place because it is a new day (time and place are not separate compartments when it comes to the spiritual life: not at all). Nothing of what I learnt or did yesterday makes a ha'porth of difference today (except the thread of continuity, which is so essential).
In prayer there can be no planning ahead, or looking back either come to think of it, although having said that I am very aware of the way in which prayer gathers up memory also and places it very much in the present - where you are. It is the only place where you are; and it is therefore the only place where we can be too. The rest is just sleight of hand and distraction.