Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Give Us the Attentiveness of the Wise Men

“Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.” 

--Matthew 2:2, NLT

Tomorrow is Epiphany in the church calendar, when the church traditionally remembers the arrival of the wise men to worship Jesus.  In that tradition I offer this prayer inspired by their worship.

Almighty God who took on infant flesh,

you were worshipped by shepherds and wise men,

people who searched for you with passion,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the attentiveness of the wise men,

who noticed the oddity in the sky,

and followed it,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the perseverance of the wise men,

who travelled from a far off land,

through deserts and dangers,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the generosity of the wise men,

who brought costly gifts,

fit for a dying king,

all to worship Jesus.

Give us the joy of the wise men,

who rejoiced when they arrived in Bethlehem,

finally reaching their goal,

all to worship Jesus.

May we worship you,

with attentiveness,

with perseverance,

with generosity,

and with joy.

In Jesus' name.  Amen.

Personal photo (of a nativity scene I made), January 2014.

When Christmas Isn’t Tinselly

Maybe your first thought when you saw that the title of this post includes the word Christmas was “how behind is she?”  I do know that in the wider culture (and even sometimes in our churches), Christmas has come and gone.  New Years Eve and New Years Day has come and gone.  Store holiday sections are now anticipating Valentines Day.  But hear me out: I’m living into the church calendar and continuing to contemplate the miracle of the incarnation during this Christmas season (which lasts 12 days until January 6).  After the expectation and longings of Advent, we get more than one day for Christmas.  In the church calendar, the color of Christmas is white, a color of joy and celebration.  In American culture, which generally skips Advent, we get a whole month to be be happy and glowing and full of good cheer.  But the incarnation isn’t really a tinselly affair.  It is messy, gritty, painful. 


I’ve been listening to Handel’s Messiah during Advent and Christmas.  One song that stuck out to me takes its text from Isaiah 53:4-5: “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him.”  This verse is often used during Lent, but it seemed so right to think about this verse during Christmas.  Jesus took on flesh and moved into our neighborhood (see John 1 in The Message) as a tiny, helpless baby.  And Jesus grew up; he lived a human life and faced its trials and uncertainties without sin.  Hebrews tells us that Jesus can empathize with our every weakness.  Jesus bears our griefs and carries our sorrows.

This is what Christmas is all about.  Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, took on flesh.  Through the Holy Spirit, Jesus walks with us.  He knows our pain.  He carries our sorrows.  He doesn’t take them away.  In this already-but-not-yet time we still face the troubles of this world.  But we don’t face them alone.  We face them with our merciful Savior who suffered the indignity to be born into this mess.

This has been a hard holiday season for me.  I identify with the themes of Advent—the waiting, the longing, the expectation—much more than the joy and peace of Christmas.  When I heard the chorus singing “surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” as I sat alone in my room, grieving this season of my life, I heard the Christmas story in a new way.  It isn’t just a “silent night, holy night.”  Christmas is pain and joy mixed together.  The joy of a child born mixed with the pain of childbirth, Mary and Joseph’s tenuous social position, and the humiliation of God taking on flesh.  The joy of Simeon seeing salvation and finding peace to depart this earth along with his prophecy that a sword would pierce Mary’s soul, too (Luke 2:25-35).  Jesus knows my pain and carries my sorrows.  I am not alone in my grief, but my grief is known by my loving God.

Perhaps this has been a hard season for you, too.  If so, I pray that you will know the presence of Emmanuel, our God-with-us, our God who took on flesh and moved into our neighborhood.  May God comfort you with the knowledge that Jesus carries your griefs and your sorrows, whether they are public or known to God alone.  May you see a glimpse of Christ’s light, shinning in the darkness. 

Photo by Jim Kenefick, used under a Creative Commons License

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Elizabeth’s Prayer

In Luke 1, Mary (Luke 1:46-55) has a song and Zechariah has a song (Luke 1:68-79).  These are their prayers at  times in their lives when God was moving in unexpected ways.  Elizabeth's prayers aren't recorded in scripture, but based on her story in Luke 1, this is how I imagine she might have prayed.

O Lord Our God,
You have declared that "my thoughts are not your thoughts,
Neither are your ways my ways.
As the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are my ways higher than your ways
And my thoughts higher than your thoughts."¹

I've always known those words were true.  But I didn't like them.
Most of my life I have not understood your ways.
I am not sure I do, even now.
Actually, I am pretty sure I don't.

All those years of waiting and longing.
When I was a little girl I dreamed of a good husband and the children I would bear him.  It didn't seem like much to ask.
And my husband is a good man.
He is upright and follows you.
But the children never came to us.
Month after month after month of disappointment.
My friends had their first child, and their second, and their third...
And my womb lay empty and my stomach flat.
At every gathering, they would start to tell their birth stories and discuss the challenges of nursing.  I have never felt so out of place.  Like I was an imposter, a fake woman.

And all of those months I cried out to you.
"Please Lord, may this be the month."
"How long, O Lord, how long?"²
"Do not hide your face from me, my God"³

And you remained silent.
You did not answer me.
For all those years.

I tried to be patient while I waited.  I really did.
But the shame was unbearable.
I know others whispered behind my back:
Who sinned?  This woman or her husband?

I wondered myself.  What have we done wrong?
And still you remained silent.  I was left waiting.

As the years passed, I gave up hope.
I was too old to have my first child now.
My friends had become grandmothers.

So I tried to be faithful with the little I had.
I worshipped you.  I kept your commandments.
I kept the Sabbath.
I honored my husband and our marriage.
I tried so hard to not covet my friends' children.
But the questions still gnawed at my heart.  Your silence didn't help.

And then.  Then it all changed.
Zechariah came home from his work in the temple.
He had gotten his once in a lifetime opportunity to enter the holy of holies.
But things were strange.
He couldn't speak.  He had to communicate in writing.
And he scrawled on the board that I would become pregnant.
I didn't believe it.  Now?  After all these years?
But he told me about your messenger.
And slowly, I felt a tiny ray of hope warm my being.
Maybe it would be so.  Maybe you wouldn't be silent forever.

And it was so.  You heard my cry and you answered me.I look at this tiny babe in my arms, and I don't know what the future holds for him.
I want to keep him safe in my arms forever, but I'm sure that isn't your plan.
I know this is a special baby.  A miracle baby.
And you have plans for him.  I don't know what they are yet.
But you have proved that your ways are higher than mine.
Even during all those torturous years, you were faithful to your promises.
You heard my cry and finally answered me.

¹Isaiah 55:8-9
² Psalm 13:1
³ Psalm 27:9
Photo by Cary and Kacey Jordan, The Jordan Collective.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Loose Ends (Advent Psalms #1)

During Advent, I am reflecting on the theme of waiting in four psalms.  I chose this theme because it is particularly appropriate to Advent and to my life right now.  When and how do these prayers talk about waiting?  How does that shape the way we wait during Advent and the rest of the year?  My prayer is that my words and the meditations of our hearts would be pleasing to the Lord, our rock and our redeemer.
This reflection focuses on Psalm 27.

Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.Psalm 27:14

This is the very last verse in the psalm.  This is the psalmist’s conclusion: wait for the Lord.  This conclusion breaks a lot of English writing rules.  In English writing, or other formal communication, we are supposed to sum up what we’ve said so there aren’t loose ends.  But this psalm ends with waiting, which is full of loose ends. 

Those loose ends make sense when you read verses 7-13 of this psalm.  It would be hard to tie up the psalmist’s desperation into a neat bow.  The Message puts verse 7, “Listen God, I’m calling at the top of my lungs.”  This is the prayer of a desperate person.  A person who is earnestly seeking God, but doesn’t seem to be getting an answer.  The psalmist implores God, “do not hide your face from me….Do not reject me or forsake me….Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes.”  In this prayer, the enemies are real.  And God’s answer seems to be silence.  At this time in the psalmist’s life, God is hidden.

It wasn’t always so for the psalmist.  Verses 1-6 are a soaring declaration of trust and confidence.  They don’t minimize the trouble; there are plenty of wicked enemies in these verses, too.  But the psalmist also has deep trust that God will keep him safe, will hide him from his enemies.  The psalm starts with the probably familiar words: “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?”

This is one reason I love they psalms.  They do not force us to have one feeling or one prayer at a time.  These prayers are as complicated as our lives.  We can usually remember the ways God has cared for us in the past: the right job at the right time, a good friend walking with us through a hard time, a spouse when you had given up hope of ever marrying, a special knowledge of the Holy Spirit’s presence with us.  The list can go on and on.  Our great God, the maker of heaven and earth, is our light and our salvation.  We don’t need to be afraid.  

But at other times of life, this care is hard for us to see.  The right job doesn’t come, a loved one dies and you feel alone in the world, all you get from online dating is a string of bad dates, God seems far away.  Hidden, even.  Our prayers join the psalmist: “don’t hide your face from me!”  It is important to note that this psalm, like other psalms in the lament genre doesn’t say pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get over it.  It doesn’t give a theological treatise on why God isn’t actually hidden.  It gives honest voice to the psalmist’s questions and cries.     

And the psalmist doesn’t feel the need to tie up all the loose ends.  The psalmist resolves this prayer with waiting.  He has quiet confidence that he will see the goodness of the Lord again, but he ends with waiting.  Perhaps it is a middle time.  A time between the despair and new life.  Advent is a middle time, too.  Advent captures in a particular way the already-but-not-yet.  We are waiting to celebrate Christ’s first coming, but we are also waiting for Christ’s second coming.  There are still loose ends in the redemption story.  We’re in the middle time between Jesus coming to redeem the world and Jesus coming back to make everything new. 

I like to think of the last verse of Psalm 27 as a bit of a pep talk the psalmist gives himself for the middle time.  In the middle of all this, wait for the Lord.  Be strong and take heart.  You know what kind of God this is.  Wait for the Lord.  Perhaps this is a pep talk that we need to give ourselves, too.  Even if God seems hidden, wait for the Lord.  Be strong and take heart.  Seek shelter in God’s presence through whatever rituals are helpful for you—community worship, listing the ways God has been good to you in the past, Advent rituals, writing your own prayers.  Rest in the messy middle time.  Hold the loose ends in your lap—you don’t have to have it all figured out right now.  Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.  

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: When The Timing Seems Wrong

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a time of waiting and anticipation.  This is my prayer for these weeks (and my life).  If you are looking for devotional activities for Advent, you can print what I created.  If you are still thinking about American Thanksgiving, you can read about things I'm thankful for.

God of time,
You are outside of time.  Yet you created time. 
That time plays a big part of lives.  And sometimes, the timing just seems wrong. 
The Israelite people wanted their Messiah to come sooner to rescue them.
Zechariah and Elizabeth longed for a child to be born for years.
Mary faced a too-soon-pregnancy.
Christians have been waiting for Jesus to return.  For 2,000 years.
Some wait for a positive pregnancy test while others are overwhelmed with an unexpected pregnancy.
We wait to hear back about job interviews and scholarships, home sales and medical tests.
So often, the timing just seems wrong and our lives feel like they are crumbling.

How long, O Lord?

How long until you make “beautiful things out of dust”?

Jesus, you know time.  You too had to wait until your hour came.
Help us as we wait!  Give us strength and patience. 
Help us to trust in your timing, that you are caring for us even when it seems like our lives are dust.
Help us to see glimpses of “hope…springing up from this old ground.”
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

With thanks to Psalm 13, Luke 1-2, John 2, and “Beautiful Things” by Gungor.  
Photo by gilliu00_, used under a Creative Commons License. 

Advent Calendar Printable

This coming Sunday, December 1, is the first week of Advent.  Advent might be my favorite season of the church year—you can look forward to a number of Advent themed posts in the coming weeks.  It is a time of expectant waiting.
A few weeks ago, my sister wrote to me and asked if I had any suggestions for Advent calendars.  She wanted to make one, but wasn’t sure of what activities to put on it that a) weren’t geared for kids and b) had some spiritual significance.  I did a tiny bit of internet browsing and couldn’t come up with anything that was workable, either. So I decided to create my own.  I assigned one scripture for each day and then an activity.  The activities vary and are at least loosely connected to the scripture.  Some samples: listening to “Zechariah and the Least Expected Places,” using Psalm 51 as a prayer of confession, choosing something joyful to do, and reading a passage with lectio divina (instructions included).  Although this isn’t written specifically with children in mind, I think you could easily use it with older children and teenagers.  
I enjoyed putting this together, and I’m looking forward to using it myself.  If you are looking for something to guide your reflection during Advent and help you engage the themes of Advent—and the God who came in the flesh and will come again—please feel free to use it, too.  It is available as a free printable.  You are free to print and distribute this, but I do ask that you don’t sell it—I’m making it available for free and would like to keep it that way.  Have a blessed Advent!  

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Confession for Christ the King

This morning I was privileged to lead the confession and assurance during worship at Hamilton (MI) CRC.  I share here the words and prayer I led. 

In the church year, today is Christ the King Sunday.  This is a Sunday to remember that Jesus is the King of kings and Lord of lords.  And it is a day to remember Christ must reign in our hearts, minds, and bodies.  But as we look at our hearts, minds, and bodies, we see how we have set ourselves up as king.  Let us confess that sin before God and each other. 

Gracious God,

You gave Jesus the highest name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.

But so often we refuse to bow.  We want to stand and be our own lords.

Our hearts are full of pride that thinks first of ourselves. 

We are selfish with our time, our abilities, and our money.

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.

Our minds do not always acknowledge your kingdom.

We assume that we are right and everyone else is wrong. 

We use our minds to judge people who are different from us

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.

We use our bodies for our own purposes instead your purposes.

We use our bodies to hurt other people and your good creation.

We also do harm to our bodies by not caring for them well.

Lord have mercy.  Christ have mercy.

In your great mercy and love, forgive us, Lord.  In the name of Jesus we pray.  Amen.

Even though we rebel against Jesus’ kingdom, God still loves us.  Hear these words: (Recited by two young boys from the congregation)

1 John 4:10-11
"This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us
and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.
Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.”

People of God, know that you are forgiven and live at peace.

Photo by Jason Train.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Wait. Hope. Expect. Playlist

Sometime this spring I was browsing through the stores in downtown Holland, MI.  At one, I found this little plaque.  The three words captured my season of life, so I bought it--partly as a reminder to hope and expect and not only wait.  It is currently hanging out on my dresser to keep reminding me that waiting comes to an end.

A few weeks ago, I was reading Who's Got Time: Spirituality for a Busy Generation.  I'll write more about it in the coming weeks, but it is chock full of interesting takes on spiritual disciplines--one of them is creating playlists.  I was inspired to make a playlist of songs that capture these three verbs.  I have been playing it ever since, giving words and feeling to the waiting, helping to have hope, and encouraging me to expect that God is working.  It starts with "From deep distress / and troubled thoughts / to you, O God / we raise our cries."  It journeys to "a mass grave / no one can raise.  / But you said "live" / and the ground it gives"  and to God "slipping out of underneath rocks / in alleys off the beaten path."  It ends with a benediction: "Christ be with me / Christ before me/ Christ behind me."  Wherever you are on your journey, may these songs bless you as they have blessed me.  If you have Spotify (its a free download), you can listen to most of the songs below.  The three that Spotify doesn't have I provided a link to in the list below.

1. "From Deep Distress," The Water and the Blood, Sojourn
2. "Wait," Meet Me At the Edge of the World, Over the Rhine
3. "Keep Breathing," Be Ok, Ingrid Michaelson
4.  "I'll Wait," Invisible Empires, Sara Groves
5.  "I Will Wait," Babel, Mumford and Sons
6.  "The Wait," Desire Like Dynamite, Sandra McCracken
7.  "A Far-Off Hope," Love & War & The Sea In Between, Josh Garrels
8. "All the Stars," The Blood and the Breath, Caroline Cobb
9. "Love's Redeeming Work is Done," Love Shall Be Our Token, High Street Hymns
10. "Dry Bones," The Blood and the Breath, Caroline Cobb
11. "I Hope You Dance," I Hope You Dance, LeeAnn Womack
12. "Holding On To Hope," Faint Not, Jenny & Tyler
13. "Zechariah and the Least Expected Places," The Bewildering Light, So Elated
14. "He's Always Been Faithful," The Collection, Sara Groves
15. "Refuge," Over the Grave, Sojourn
16. "Strangely Ready," The Collection, Sara Groves
17. "Abiding City," The Builder and the Architect, Sandra McCracken
18. "Christ Be With Me," The Brilliance, Brilliance

What I’m Listening To: Dry Bones

The album I’ve been listening to on repeat lately is called The Blood & The Breath: Songs That Sing the Story of Redemption by Caroline Cobb.  The songs trace God’s big story from Genesis to Revelation.  They thoughtfully bring scripture to life—even some texts that aren’t often sung.  My favorite song is called “Dry Bones,” based on Ezekiel 37.  I don’t know many songs based on this strange passage (or Ezekiel in general), but this song has helped me see the beauty of life coming from dry bones.  And it gives me hope that situations that seem dry and hopeless can be revived by the Spirit of God.  The words are good, but to get the full effect you should go to Caroline’s website, listen to the song, and download the album.
Dry bones
Hearts of stone
Slain and left
In the valley of death
Been dead so long
All the flesh is gone
A mass grave
No one can raise

But you said “live”
And the ground it gives
The bones start to rattle
And the darkness lifts

You give them blood and bone and
Hearts of stone to flesh
You give them muscle, skin
And life within the breath

Open graves
Bodies raised
The living breath
Reversing death


Written May 2011 for The Scripture to Music Project
Words and music by Caroline Cobb
From Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 37:1-14; 36:26,27
Photo by _ChrisUK, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Great is Thy Faithfulness

This weekend my family is celebrating my maternal grandfather’s 90th birthday.  My grandpa has been following Jesus for his whole life and would be the first to say that God has been faithful.  Life has not been without challenges, but God has been with Grandpa and used him to bless many people.

Loving and Faithful God,
For keeping a child of your covenant, baptized when he was an infant, safe in your hands,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For his parents who loved him and taught him about you,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For keeping Grandpa safe while he was deployed in the Navy,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For giving him a beautiful wife who loved him until her dying day,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For three children that he loved and supported (and is still very willing to help weed gardens or repair their homes),
Great is thy faithfulness.
For helping him to become a great teacher and principal,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For blessing him with grandchildren—both adopted and biological—that he loves deeply,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For saving his life from cancer,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For Grandpa and Grandma’s consistency at showing up at their grandkids events—church programs, piano recitals, sports games, etc.,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For the hours of volunteer service at Desert Christian High School, World Renew (formerly CRWRC) Disaster Response Services, Bibles for Mexico Thrift Stores, and other places,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For the love he shows his great-grandchildren through creating toys and babysitting,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For the love of and commitment to the church (there are few times I’ve heard him complain about it!) that he demonstrates to all of us,
Great is thy faithfulness.
For 90 years of following you,
Great is thy faithfulness.
Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided.
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Personal photo of my grandpa and me at my ordination, January 2012.

On My New Found Love of Poetry

When I was in seminary, I heard Eugene Peterson speak at the Festival of Faith and Writing.  He was asked what advice he would give to young pastors.  I think he had three pieces of advice, but I only remember two.  Those two have stuck with me, though: learn Biblical languages really well and pick a few poets to read deeply.  I inwardly groaned at the first and was intrigued by the second.  Peterson said that as people who use language extensively, pastors should read poetry to increase your grasp of how English works.  Poets are the people who play with language—vocabulary choices, rhythm, stress, imagery, metaphor, punctuation.  He suggested picking 3-4 poets who you read regularly and get to know well.  I haven’t been as intentional as he about sticking with certain poets, but I have found myself reading poetry more in the last two years of my life than any time before.
    
Before this point in my life I have not been a huge poetry fan.  I didn’t actively dislike it, but with few exceptions I didn’t love it, either.  I am not the best poetry reader and I’m a worse poetry writer.  I did read enough poetry when I was an English major to get a sense of styles I am drawn to and those I’m not (lets just say that T.S. Eliot will never be one of the 3-4 poets I dwell one).

So why did I start reading more poetry once I became a pastor?  I don’t think it was just because Eugene Peterson said I should or the inner English major who always wished I was better with poetry.  In the “Author Q & A” of Lauren Winner’s Still: Notes on a Mid-life Faith Crisis she talks about why she reads and writes about poetry.  Winner bases her answer on an observation by Richard Rohr that our spiritual lives have two halves—the season where you build a spiritual identity and the season where you face crisis and come to know God in a deeper way.  “Rohr says that in the second half of your spiritual life you may find yourself reading a lot of poetry.  Maybe, before, you read dogmatics or self-help how-tos or narrative history.  Before, poetry may have seemed elusive and loopy.  In the second of Rohr’s two halves, you like the space that poetry offers” (pg. 205-206). 

In the messiness of being a pastor, I like that space poetry offers.  Every day I face questions and ambiguities about faith and life.  There are the questions that inevitably come with reading scripture.  There are difficult situations in people’s lives that pastors are called to walk through with them.  There are specific applications of how we love our neighborhood, like do we help this person with their rent?  And who am I in all of this; what does it mean to be a pastor? 

In the messiness, poetry gives space.  Space to be.  Space to live with the ambiguity.  Space to question and wonder and enjoy something beautiful.  In her book about being good stewards of language, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, Marilyn Chandler McEntyre says, “poetry can teach us specific skills that we need now more than ever to cultivate if we are to retain a capacity for subtlety” (pg. 159). 
Good poetry doesn’t try to give all the answers and tie everything up into neat bows.  It isn’t full of platitudes.  I appreciate that because it is honest and authentic.  That's the kind of person I want to be, too—someone who can hold up to the pressure of the ambiguities in my own life and others lives.  I don’t think that it is a coincidence that one of my favorite books of the Bible is Psalms, a book full of poems.  In the psalms I find that same sort of honesty and authenticity as in other poetry.  The psalmist doesn’t usually sugarcoat things.  If he (or possibly she) is angry at God or feels wronged by God, he says so directly.  The psalms don’t always wrap everything up neatly, although they almost always end with a statement of trust in God.  The psalms, and other poems, give space to live with the ambiguity that comes from living in a broken world.  Poems can also point us towards  the hope that we have in Christ, that things are ultimately secure, even if they appear to be falling apart. 

I’m going to keep reading poetry, to keep finding that space and keep honing my skill with language.  I’ll keep sharing some of my favorite poems here, as I’ve done in the past.  The poets I have read the most in the past couple of years (in addition to the Psalms) are Scott Cairns, Mary Oliver, Robert Frost, and Luci Shaw.  The Poetry of Robert Frost is on my bed stand right now, so perhaps he’ll show up here next. 

Photo by Liesbeth den Toom, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: He Didn’t Know Where He Was Going

 

 

“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.  By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise.  For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.  And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she considered him faithful who had made the promise.  And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore” (Hebrews 11:8-12).

 

 

 

God of Abraham,

You called Abraham to a place, but you didn’t tell him where it was.

You asked him to make a leap of faith, to trust that you were faithful and had a plan.

You made crazy promises (descendants to an infertile couple?) to Abraham,

and you kept your promises.

 

Promise-keeping God,

I’m really holding on to the fact that you are faithful, because things look pretty confusing right now.

I’m trusting that you have called me to a place, but haven’t told me where it is yet.

I’m packing my boxes, trying to figure out what I’ll need if the waiting lasts 2 months, and what I’ll need if its 4 more months, or 6 months,

trusting that you have a plan for all of this.

 

Faithful God,

Give me the faith of Abraham, the faith to trust you to guide me to a place,

Give me the trust of Abraham to make my home in a temporary place,

Give me the patience to wait to see how you’ll work,

because I “consider him faithful who had made the promise.”

Amen.

 

Photo by Joana Bourne, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: We Are Your Children

Today’s prayer also comes from An African Prayer Book.  It is a prayer from our brothers and sisters of the the Anglican Church of the Province of Southern Africa.  It is a wide-ranging prayer that covers many topics, and I am going to use an adapted version of it in a worship service I am leading tonight.  I am looking forward to leading Christian Reformed folks in Michigan in prayer using words from the Anglican Church in Africa.
Father, we are your children, your Spirit lives in us and we are in your Spirit: hear us, for it is your Spirit who speaks through us as we pray.
Lord hear us.
Father, you created the heavens and the earth: bless the produce of our land and the works of our hands.
Lord hear us.
Father, you created us in your own image: teach us to honor you in all your children.
Lord hear us.
Father, in your steadfast love you provide for your creation: grant good rains for our crops.
Lord hear us.
Father, you inspired the prophets of old: grant that your Church may faithfully proclaim your truth to the world.
Lord hear us.
Father, you sent your Son into the world: reveal him to others through his life in us.
Lord hear us.
Lord Jesus, you sent your apostles to make disciples of all nations: bless the bishops of this province, especially N our bishop, together with N our metropolitan, and all ministers of your Church.
Christ hear us.
Lord Jesus, for your sake men and women forsook all and followed you: call many to serve you in religious communities and in the ordained ministry of your Church.
Christ hear us.
Lord Jesus, you called your disciples to take up the cross: deepen in us a sense of vocation.
Christ hear us.
You prayed for your Church to be one: unite all Christians that the world may believe.
Christ hear us.
You forgave the thief on the cross: bring us all to penitence and reconciliation.
Christ hear us.
You broke down the walls that divide us: bring the people of this world to live in peace and concord.
Christ hear us.
You taught us through Paul, your apostle, to pray for kings and rulers: bless and guide all who are in authority.
Christ hear us.
You were rich yet for our sake became poor: move those who have wealth to share generously with those who are poor.
Christ hear us.
You sat among the learned, listening and asking them questions: inspire all who teach and all who learn.
Christ hear us.
You cured by your healing touch and word: heal the sick and bless those who minister to them.
Christ hear us.
You were unjustly condemned by Pontius Pilate: strengthen our brothers and sisters who are suffering injustice and persecution.
Christ hear us.
You lived as an exile in Egypt: protect and comfort all refugees.
Christ hear us.
You knew the love and care of an earthly home: be with migrant workers and protect their families.
Christ hear us.
You open and none can shut: open the gates of your kingdom to those who have died without hearing your gospel.
Christ hear us.
You have been glorified in the lives of innumerable saints: give us strength through their prayers to follow in their footsteps.
Christ hear us.
Father we know that you are good and that you hear those who call upon you: give to us and to all people what is best for us, that we may glorify you through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
Amen.


From “An Anglican Prayer Book 1989, Church of the Province of Southern Africa” in An African Prayer Book, Selected and with Introductions by Desmond Tutu, Image/Doubleday New York, 1995.
 
Photo of an Anglican pastor in Liongwe, Malawi by khym54, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayers: For a Bittersweet Day

Today is bittersweet.  It was my last Sunday morning with my congregation.  I am so thankful for these two years, and it is so hard to say goodbye.  And so today I offer two prayers.  Both of these prayers originate in Africa and came to me in An African Prayer Book.

My prayer of thanksgiving, for the people I have had the opportunity to know from around the world and for the ways that they have shown that church can be like a big family.

Our Churches Are Like Big Families

Lord, we thank you that our churches are like big families.
Lord, let your spirit of reconciliation blow over all the earth.
Let Christians live in your love.
Lord, we praise you in Europe's cathedrals, in America's offerings, 
And in our African songs of praise.
Lord, we thank you that we have brothers and sisters in all the world.
Be with them that make peace.
Amen. (West Africa, pg. 65-66).

And my prayer for the people that I am leaving, that God will continue to be at work in and through them and will continue to hold them in the palm of his hand.

The Privilege Is Ours To Share In the Loving

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, the privilege is ours to share in the loving, healing, reconciling mission of your Son Jesus Christ, our Lord, in this age and wherever we are.  Since without you we can do no good thing.
     May your Spirit make us wise;
     May your Spirit guide us;
     May your Spirit renew us;
     May your Spirit strengthen us;
So that we will be:
     Strong in faith,
     Discerning in proclamation,
     Courageous in witness,
     Persistent in good deeds.
This we ask through the name of the Father.
(Church of the Province of the West Indies, pg. 96-97)


Prayers from An African Prayerbook, selected and with an introduction by Desmond Tutu, Image/Doubleday books, 1995.
Photo by John Flanigan, http://www.flickr.com/photos/82369865@N00/5414528258/in/photolist-9fsSBu, used under a Creative Commons License

A Prayer for My Office

As you may know, my current pastoral call is coming to an end soon.  I am a Resident Pastor, which is a two year first call.  Those two years will finish at the end of the month.  This morning, at the start of my last full week in my office, this is my prayer.

Gracious God,

Thank you for this office.
Thank you for the books that line the shelves and the wisdom they've shared with me.
Thank you for the pictures that remind me of people and events that have shaped my life.
Thank you for the children's art inspired by my sermons, reminding me they are listening, too.
Thank you for the table and chairs where I've had so many conversations.
Thank you for the robe and stoles and your call to serve the Church as an ordained minister.

Thank you for this place to pray, study, talk, cry, think, and serve.

As I box it all up soon, I pray for the place I'll unpack it.
I don't know where that is yet, but you do.
Show me where it is.  And help me to wait patiently in the meantime.
Help my new congregation to wait, too.  
Guide our steps as we get to know each other.  

This room will be empty for a day or two, waiting for the new occupant to move in.
Bless him and his ministry here.
May this place and the people here be as much of a blessing to him as they've been to me.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: We Will Not Be Afraid

My prayer this afternoon is Psalm 46, which was my sermon text this morning, for my last sermon at COS.  It is a prayer of trust for people whose world is changing.  

God is our refuge and strength,

    an ever-present help in trouble.
 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
 though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.

 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy place where the Most High dwells.
 God is within her, she will not fall;
    God will help her at break of day.
 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
    he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
 He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.
 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”

 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Personal photo, Muskegon State Park, April 2013.