About 7 a.m. the other day I happened to ask the Lord if he would give me "right affections." Then I went about my day and pretty much forgot about it.
About 8 a.m. I got a call from an inmate friend who gingerly made a request. He said that Brother Hollis (with whom I am acquainted from previous conversations with my friend) has a Bible that is in tatters. Would I be willing to buy him a new one? He loves the Word so much and holds little Bible study groups out on the yard, but hasn't any notes or concordance or commentaries or resources at all. It would bless him to no end: Brother Hollis has no one on the outside, having been institutionalized for most of his life, his mother having rejected him as a child. I needn't get him something overly fancy; anything would be an improvement.
I went straight to Amazon.com and got the brother the best Bible I could find-my favorite version, with fabulously edifying notes, the leather-bound luxury edition. I was happy as a kid in a candy store and I only wish I could be there when he opens it in a week or two.
About 9 a.m. I read my Bible and somehow was so moved that I wept with joy. All I did was Luke chapter 1, and it took me an hour to get through it, God showed me so much.
It dawned on me after all that that God had already commenced answering my prayer for "right affections." What is more right than being happy with the things that makes God happy (a spiffy new Bible for Hollis), and what is more right than affections that reverberate to Mary's own elation when she says:
"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior"?