Rock

Psalm 18:1-2

Unshakeable God, when I think of you as

rock, refuge and fortress,

I need not be afraid. You

shelter me when I am weary,

when I have been stoned by

words and deeds of others.

You shield me, you keep me safe.

You sing my soul’s destiny to me

when I am wrongly labelled.

I entrust my life to you,

you who know my heart. I live

to sing your praise, you

my rescuer, my rock, my refuge!

Listening

1 Samuel 3:1-10

I’m here.

Listening. It’s enough

for me that you know

I’m here.

Listening.

Strawberry Witness

Psalm 34:8

A strawberry preaches, testifying of God.

The red tells Jesus’ humanity—he bled

because he was human. Heart-shaped,

a reminder of the sacred heart of Jesus, my refuge, my home.

Tiny seeds an emblem of the divine seed

within each of us that, with intention, grows

so that Christ is seen in us.

When halved, symmetrical white lines speak of God’s

care and attention to the smallest detail of our lives.

What remains hidden is its nutrition—a benefit received

when eaten. Like Christ, looking at, knowing about, admiring

does not equate to being open to receive.

When I taste and see, God’s sweet, juicy goodness

fills me, changes me, nourishes me.

Thank you God, for the witness of strawberries!

A Prayer

Mark 14:36

On the other side of suffering, I see your transforming work, O God. But when I read this single verse, Jesus’ plea to you, I go back to my season of suffering and my wish to run away from it.

A wise guide spoke hard truth to me when she said to stay with my pain. Let it be my teacher. I did not want to hear those words, but I received them. I lived them, through days and weeks and months, walking the thin line between despair and hope.

I did not numb myself to the pain, but felt it as fully as I was capable of feeling it. And even for that, I was derided by the same ones whose words and deeds had already exiled me.

But because I did not numb myself, did not avoid the pain, I now sing with unfettered joy the song of salvation and new life. I am redeemed and reborn! Thanks be to God! Amen.

A Lived Psalm

Psalm 23

Loving God, I have lived this psalm.

Not the flowery King James Version, but the straightforward Common English one.

You have kept me alive through my darkest hour,

leading me to restful waters—the river, the marsh, the lake—

when I was so very dry within,

when tears had wrung me out.

When I lost almost everything

I came to know that you are everything.

I lack nothing for I have you.

Though others proclaimed me worthless,

you welcomed me to a lavish feast,

feeding me love in heaps and mounds,

overflowing, extravagant love.

You bathed my broken soul with oil,

gratitude spills out of my full heart!

I now know that you never stop pursuing me.

We will always dwell together.

My home is found in you!

Emmanuel

Matthew 1:23

Holding the day lightly, here

at its commencement, clean page

not crammed full of plans,

I want to leave large room

for God to be with me.

Not as the persistent weed growing

in an impenetrable wall,

or the penny in a parking lot that I

acknowledge but do not take with me,

or the perfunctory blessing said before I

mindlessly eat my food.

Today I want to marvel at sky

with the wonder of my elderly friend

who praised it from the hospital window.

I want to breathe into a tight muscle,

fully aware of my body’s shape in that moment

on my yoga mat. I want to savor the silence

before the day shakes itself awake.

I want to see all who cross my path,

sensing the energy of communion

with the whole human family.

I want to be fully present to food and friends and flowers,

and the feel of wind on my skin, and to know,

in every breath, every blink, every beat of heart,

that God is with me.

Faithfulness

Hebrews 11:1-12

Steadfast God,

you faithfulness to us calls forth

our faithful response to you.

In all ages, we witness your tender care to your creation

and creation’s faithful response to you.

From Abraham to Noah to Ruth,

to Jeremiah, Hosea and Esther—

you challenged them to see a future they could not imagine.

Because of your faithfulness

they responded in faithful obedience.

The woman who touched Jesus’ robe,

the centurion who trusted Jesus’ authority,

Paul, whose dogged faith sustained him through countless hardships—

these examples of faith flow from your faithfulness to them.

The early Christian martyrs, and martyrs and saints in every age

saw beyond their lives and trusted in what they could not see.

They lived as those prepared to die,

and in their dying they went forth to live.

Steadfast God, may your faithfulness to us

call forth our faithfulness to you

that we may be numbered among the faithful. Amen.

Deliverance

Exodus 6:5-8

Lord, I have lived under burdens,

making bricks without straw, taking on

impossible tasks, struggling under demands

too great for me. I have forgotten

who I am,

who you created me to be, falling

instead into a shape ill-fitting my soul.

I have not lived as your chosen,

but have chosen instead to enslave myself

to an image not mine to live.

You saw my predicament.

You heard the cry of my soul, even before

I was aware that my soul was crying.

You delivered me with signs and wonders,

feeding my starved soul with love, with community,

with your presence and peace.

My soul is taking the shape of your chosen, the shape

you dreamed for it.

Who I am is seen and known and I am learning to listen

to my soul’s whispered truth.

Your faith in me is making me well.

I live to sing your praise with my life!

Lament

Psalm 22

My God, my God

have you left us all alone?

have you turned away from our anguish?

Do you not see what is happening?

Snarling dogs pounce on the weak—

besting the aged for food,

tearing families apart,

trampling the gentle,

attacking the poor.

When they lose a crumb from their enormous loaf

the rich blame the hungry for their “loss.”

They trust might and weapons, feeding on these

until they are glutted,

while compassion and mercy fade into oblivion.

But the new day reminds me that you are constant.

You have not abandoned us. It is we

who have abandoned you, trusting in wealth and weapons,

in power and possessions, and not in your ways,

which work like yeast, steady, unseen.

Expand our hope, grow our compassion,

crowd out our fear, fill us with love

until we sing praise,

until our lives ring true,

until we resist evil.

Song of Praise

Revelation 4:1-11

Holy, holy, holy!

Creator God, you are holy!

In the orange fire of sunset,

in the vivid pink of sunrise,

in the indescribable blue of spring sky,

your glory bursts forth.

Holy, holy, holy!

Christ Jesus, you are holy!

In you, we see God’s heart for us—

love we cannot fathom,

patience filled with grace,

forgiveness that bids us live with joy.

Holy, holy, holy!

Spirit, you are holy!

In the stillness of early morning,

in the silence of a chapel,

in laughter, tears and love of community,

your presence is palpable.

Holy, holy, holy!

Wrapped in Trinity’s holiness

may we too be holy,

lifted by love to deep devotion,

challenged by grace to grow in grace,

filled with joy irrepressible.

Holy, holy, holy!

First Day of Spring

1 Thessalonians 5:12-14

In the birds’ songs your Spirit sings

friendlying this dark before dawn.

Today the equinox! And now the light

outlasts the night. All leans toward light,

toward spring, toward life.

My soul too bends toward light,

dainty as a dandelion seed,

sturdy as an oak. The Spirit lifts

and awakens me as its feathered chorus

sings this day into being. A new day,

a new season, a new opening to grow in God.

Hunger

Hosea 6:1-3

Some crave travel, their attention given

to planning trips to myriad destinations.

Some follow their palates—exploring the endless varieties

of foods and flavors.

Some collect, studying, scouring to find the next piece

of their growing assemblage of dolls,

wines, coins, cars or antiques.

Others devote themselves to stopping the aging process

through exercise, treatments and diet.

Let my hunger be for this:

to press on to know the Lord,

who is infinitely unknowable,

always surprising, ever revealing,

as close as my breath,

as vast as the cosmos.

Let my life be given to the

presence and pursuit of God.

Presence

Isaiah 41:10

When all seemed hopeless,

when the path I envisaged washed out before me,

through days of distress and nights of sleeplessness and tears,

when I was exiled from what had been my life,

even then, when it was so dark that I could not feel your comfort

I knew you were with me.

As I lay at the bottom of the pit,

my identity smashed, feeling worthless

and very small,

you sent an angel, and another

and in the dark depths they pieced together

my shattered self, slowly.

It took months, but more angels came. They

knitted my broken self together,

each working a different way, but all

from you and for me.

Freed from that dark pit, I live.

I live!

God of the broken, you have strengthened me,

you have helped me,

you have held me with

your righteous strong hand.

I am loved.

I am yours.

I am grateful.

Bless the Lord

Psalm 78:1-4, 52-55

Bless the Lord, O my soul

for God, the faithful

does not leave me alone,

but is always with me

through storms and sunshine.

Bless the Lord, O my soul

for God, the nurturer

led me through my darkest hour

so I could endure my trial

and emerge with stronger faith and love.

Bless the Lord, O my soul

for God, my advocate,

who knows the truth of who I am,

and surrounds me with friends who know this truth

so I can claim it for myself.

Bless the Lord, O my soul

for God, the merciful,

who does not hold my failures against me,

whose memory of my sin is short

and whose love is long and generous.

Bless the Lord, O my soul

for God, the playful,

who fills my life with laughter,

who revels in relationships

of mutuality and depth.

Bless the Lord, O my soul

for God, the creator

of coffee, chocolate and wine,

of sunrises, oaks and sparrows,

of color, music and mountains.

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

The Speed of Growth

Mark 4:26-32

Let nature take its course—

not a popular word in a society of speed.

Consumed with size and strength and speed,

we are like mechanics, manipulating the

engine of life to meet our demands for

more, faster and bigger. We override the

Creator, who glories in the smallest flower,

the speed of a snail, the delicate strength of a spider web.

We want bigger chickens, faster answers, more choices.

We cannot content ourselves with a Kingdom that grows by itself,

that revels in smallness, that is revealed in the simplicity of seeds

and birds and bread.

Life begins small and is only authentic when unforced.

Depth and strength require time, not speed.

The Kingdom comes in its own time.

Let Nature/God take its course.

Authority

Isaiah 9:6

A child is born to us,

a son is given to us,

and authority will be on his shoulders.

Advent’s reading draws us to the child;

in Lent I think of the man

and his shoulders, stretched apart on the cross.

A paradox—authority submitting

to crucifixion. Power becoming

powerlessness, allowing evil to have

its way. If the story stops here

the world’s way wins.

And isn’t that how it seems at times?

We struggle to see Sunday in the world’s events

or in our own particular lives.

Remember, when it seems dark, that

powerlessness overcomes power.

True authority comes with a heart,

not a fist.

Wounds

They treat the wound of my people

   as if it were nothing:

   “All is well, all is well” they insist,

   when in fact nothing is well.   – Jeremiah 6:14

One verse given today.

One verse.

Yet it speaks truth with force,

for all is not well. Humanity is wounded.

People fleeing their homes looking for hope,

people hungry, longing for food,

people sick, praying for medicine and treatment—these

are the wounded we see. But there are others.

People who close borders,

people who blame the poor,

people more concerned about dollars than neighbors—wounds

of privilege fester unseen. Heartlessness causes wounds to

stagnate and stink, like the Dead Sea.

Wounded people everywhere.

God, give us hearts that hurt for others,

heal our wound of uncaring.

Disturb us, shake us awake until we see your face

at our borders, in the clinics, on the streets,

in struggling schools, at the grocery store.

Give us eyes to see you with love, not contempt.

May we not rest until all is well

and all are well.

Visual Praise

Psalm 147

Sing songs of praise to God

   for the glory of creation!

Do not keep silent

   in the presence of God’s diversity!

Birds and bugs, fish and flowers,

   trees and their fruit, seasons and weather,

stars and soil, vegetables and oceans,

   animals of every color, shape and disposition,

and people of every hue and size and belief—

   you made and love them all!

We all reflect your glory,

   though some would deny it in themselves and in others.

May I see you today

   in every bird and everybody,

in every leaf and in my food,

   in sun and clouds and wind,

in water and blossoms and bugs,

   even in the small, the irritating and mean.

May I see you today in every moment and person and place.

Give me eyes that praise you

with love and adoration for all you have made.

Praise

Psalm 36:5-9

How do I express my love to you, O God?

You surprise me daily with the depth of your love for me.

You make a way for me and go with me as I walk its path.

Some love you for what you do for them.

But I love you for who you are, a love forged in the wilderness,

where I was led but not abandoned. You were with me there!

My heart erupts with love for you O Lord,

O lover of my soul!

Endurance

James 5:7-11

O God, waiting is hard. But harder than waiting is unknowing.

With the Psalmist I cry “How long?” And will the journey even take me

to a place I want to be? It seems all I see is the interminable question mark.

Yet in the waiting, in the unknowing, I experience compassion and mercy.

There is hope for fruit from the seeds of suffering. So Lord, cultivate in me

patient endurance and courage. Maybe these are the fruits you want to give me.

If so, may I feast on them until they nourish and strengthen me.

Questions and Faith

Habakkuk 2:1-3

Compassionate One,

I remember a book title I once read: Swift, Lord, You are Not.

I hear your call to wait, to trust,

yet as I watch a nation’s heart turn to stone

I wonder when the tide will turn.

How many more children will come home to find their parents taken away?

How many creatures have to die before we realize our dependence on clean air and water?

How many people will be attacked and killed before we realize that killing others doesn’t allay our fear?

As the fist of power squeezes tighter,

how many more will be crushed by its greed, its hate, its oppression?

God of the ages, help me to take the long view—

to remember that empires fall when power corrupts,

to see that plants grow from the decay and rot of what has died,

to look at you on a cross and to see the empty tomb beyond.

Evil may seem strong, but you are stronger,

though your way is not the way of the world.

You who are the way, the truth and the life,

may we know that your way is power in powerlessness,

your way is strength in weakness,

your way is nonretaliation to violence,

your way is resurrection through death.

So I will trust;

I will do what is mine to do;

I will not let my heart turn to stone.

I know you will take small acts of faithfulness

and multiply it many times over.

Home

John 1:1-5, 14a

Home—not a building, but

relationship. You made your

home among us. Though you had

no place to lay your head,

you were at home with us.

Home, likewise, is for me relationship,

for when I had no place to rest

I found my home in you.

Pieces

Ecclesiastes 3:1-20

My life—a jigsaw puzzle,

each piece necessary, but alone

lending no clue to the larger picture

and no box to guide toward completion.

Some pieces that appear to go together

don’t. Unlikely combinations surprise me.

Yet each piece a season, an event—some light,

some dark, but all unite,

making whole. Hope is learning to see

as the Puzzle-Maker sees, the

Imago Dei scattered across the table,

slowly coming into view as I connect

each piece. To see myself

fully human, fully

beloved when the image is not

what I imagined it would be—this

is the key to working

without a box, the key to

becoming whole.

Be Still

Psalm 46

When all around me shakes,

keep me, hold me that I may be

unshaken in your hands,

able to see with nonanxious

clearness, with steady heart

that you are God

and I am not, so I can

be still in my soul.

Confession

Isaiah 40

God, whose way leads through

wilderness, whose desert path

uproots us out of ordinary time,

forgive us when we choose

complacency over change,

ease over transformation,

numbness over attentiveness.

We prefer the false security of

easy answers, blame and prejudice

rather than the disciplines of

understanding, patience and

accountability.

Hold us in the desert long enough

to clear our vision, change our hearts,

gentle our judgments.

Hold us accountable even as you

hold us in your hand.

Flatten our mountains of pride.

Raise the ones we have despised.

Make our desert sojourn fruitful—

harsh enough to soften us, to turn

us to you in utter dependency,

so we will know that you show

your power in gentleness,

your strength in compassion,

your greatness in proximity.

Ashes and Fire

Ephesians 6:10-18

Yesterday’s ashes, washed from my forehead

mark my heart, reminding me that your

refining fire, not chosen by me, compels me choose to

die to self. Flaming arrows of the evil one launched

against me call me to trust not in my strength

but in yours alone.

My ash-marked heart is yours, Most Loving One.

My soul sings of your justice and mercy, inseparable,

one from the other.

I stand by your power, not my own.

I stand in your purifying love.

I stand because of you.

I stand.

Lenten Prayers

This Lent, I am working through a book entitled Writing to God: 40 Days of Praying With my Pen. Each day, I am given a scripture, and then am invited to write a prayer. I'll be posting many, if not all, of my prayers here as time and internet access permit.

I pray for you a meaningful Lenten journey.

Ash Wednesday

Ezekiel 37:1-3

The valley, bowl of bones

prompts tears. I see

my life scattered there,

chipped, broken, dry.

How did I survive?

Harsh sun beat down

severe, unyielding.

Looking closer I see

ground beneath watered by

unseen Source, soaking,

seeping up, easing the dryness,

cupping the brokenness,

soothing, sustaining, shielding.

Can these bones live? Ah,

already they are coming to life!