Archive for the 'Prayer' Category

“Let’s Begin with a Word of Prayer…”

I must have said that dozens, even hundreds of times, in the last fifty or so years. People of faith frequently begin our gatherings this way. So I invite you to  pray with me as I/we begin anew with this blog. Some of you know that this retired United Methodist pastor has served for the last two years as interim pastor for a Lutheran (ELCA) congregation in a community about 100 miles south of Las Vegas, NV, where we live. It took longer than anticipated for that congregation to locate and call its new fulltime pastor. But I think most of those folks would agree with me that it took just long enough.

That  Lutheran “sojourn” was a rich experience for Dianna and me. The only downside was the weekly commute that meant we lived in two places, yet often felt we weren’t really “home” in either place. But now we’re full-time residents in our only home. We’re resuming some things we let go during that assignment, including this blog. It may be redesigned eventually. My brain has more substance it wants to share, as soon as it flows through the keyboard in an acceptable form.

But for now “let’s begin with a word of prayer”. I’ve recently begun following Shifting Margins, a blog written by retired United Methodist bishop Kenneth Carder. Yesterday he shared this prayer. It says what I’ve felt, and what I’ve heard from many folks, especially in the wake of recent violence and ugliness in this country and beyond.

Prayer of Lament and Longing
Posted on October 29, 2018
Bishop Kenneth Carder

God of Love and Peace, who created us to live in harmony rooted in mutual respect, compassion, and justice: We have lost our way and now wander in the toxic wasteland of cruel hatred, shameful disrespect for the dignity of others, and the normalization of verbal and physical violence. In such a time, our prayers seem powerless and we cry out, “How long, O Lord? How long?”

Hear our laments and turn them into actions on behalf of compassion, justice, and peace.
We lament the coarseness of our public discourse, while we long for civility.
We lament the disrespect for those who differ from us, while we yearn for mutual respect amid our differences.
We lament the tribal nature of our politics, while we long for commitment to the common good.
We lament the inequity in our economics, while we want all to have access to your table of abundance.
We lament the arrogance of always having to be right, while we desire the humility to live with ambiguity and mystery.
We lament the hatred and cruelty within our life together, while we hunger to love and to be loved.

Move through the dark recesses of my own heart, O God, and purge me of all hatred, arrogance, prejudice, and ill-will. Create in me a clean heart and put a right spirit within me, that I may be an instrument of your Love and Peace. Amen.

Praying for the Other Side

Please don’t click away without reading and praying this prayer. While it’s titled “…for Mr. Trump”, I believe it speaks to all of us caught up in this bitterly contentious election. If your political perspective doesn’t match the author’s, pray for the politician on the opposite side of the spectrum–you know, the one who makes your blood boil! Feel free to lovingly adjust some of the specifics accordingly.  This prayer reminds us that even those on “the other side” are human beings created in God’s image, just like ourselves. We can’t self-righteously “aim” this prayer at “them” when it’s equally about “us”: “Let all of us see the same suffering Jesus” and “God who set aside all comfort”. It invites all of us equally to repent of giving in to the temptation to “look strong” and “mask our weakness”. It points toward deep, authentic unity as we pray beyond all that divides us,

“We need to make ourselves less again,
So that you can be Great.”

A Lenten Prayer for Mr. Trump

[Reposted with the author’s permission]

Father,
We’ve been astounded, frustrated, angry, resentful, defensive.
We’re feeling indignant, maligned, misrepresented.
We, as Christians, have reacted to the brand of “Trump.”
We confess it keeps us from praying for the man, Trump.

We bring your son before you, this man who claims your name.
We can’t understand him.
But you know his heart, you know his deepest thoughts.

Father, In his efforts to look strong,
You know where he feels weak.
You know the parts of himself he works to protect.
You know his defense mechanisms.
You are not fooled by them.
You are not limited by them.

Let your Spirit find those places of shame, of pride, of emptiness.
Meet him there with your grace, your kind challenge, your fullness.
Reveal to him the power of asking forgiveness.

When Mr. Trump goes to church this Easter
Let him see the suffering Jesus.
Show him the way Jesus laid aside his rights,
The way he defended the oppressed,
The way he listened, welcomed,
The way True Power was revealed in nakedness,
The way True Fullness came through emptying.
In church, reveal to our brother, not a comfortable institution,
But a God who set aside all comfort.

And when we go to church this Easter,
Let us see the same Jesus.

We confess that the news has shifted our attention.
We confess our hope has not been in your power.
Regardless of how the primaries go,
Who the candidates are,
What happens in November,
Our hope lies in You.
 Use this prayer, birthed from frustration, to change our hearts.

Let us see the ways we are also tempted to look strong.

We repent from our own efforts to mask our weakness.
We repent, as your Church, from our desire to protect an institution.
We don’t need to make America great again.
We need to make ourselves less again.
So that you can be Great.

Amen.

Giving God the Silent Treatment

Recently I asked for feedback about topics I wanted to address in this space. My firend Lois spoke up first. She wanted to hear abou the woman who prayed her way through a tough time. Actually, she wanted to hear how little I knew about how a woman prayed. But I don’t presume to know how a woman, or any person, prays beyond what they share publicly.

In fact, I don’t claim any special knowledge of the workings of the female species. If I claimed any expertise in the field of Mars-Venus relations, I might point to nearly 45 years of marriage to the same woman. But my greatest learning from this lifetime of experience has been this–Any man who claims authoritative knowledge in this field simply doesn’t know what he doesn’t know!

Now about this woman who gave God the silent treatment: Celeste Peterson’s daughter Erin was one of 32 people killed in the April 16. 2007 shooting rampage at Virginia Tech University. Losing one’s child is always excruciatingly painful. Having it happen because of such senseless violence must be nearly unbearable.

That unbearable pain struck Celeste Peterson and her husband on April 16, 2007. They were solid, well-grounded lifetime Christians. Erin had caught their contagious faith at an early age and continued to mature in Christ. When she went off to college, Mom and Dad watched and prayed eagerly to see what God would do in their daughter’s life–until it ended suddenly and tragically.

Celeste’s honest and frequent conversation with God shriveled to grudging acknowledgment of God’s presence: “Thank you for this day. I’m not talking to you. Amen.” We talk about experiencing the silence of God in our prayer life. But Celeste says, “I know you’re there–and I’m not talking to you.” She turned the tables. It’s God’s turn to wait on her silence. The Good News is that God waits as long as necessary.

One day the Silent Treatment ended. Celeste was ready to talk. No, I don’t know how long it took. Celeste says that when she reopened divine-human relations, “I never felt like I had missed a beat. He knew how I was feeling at the time.” God’s first words weren’t “It’s about time, young lady” or “How do you think I feel being ignored?” God said simply, “Welcome back. I’ve missed our talks.” Recently we visited with friends we hadn’t seen in years. We were able to pick up right where we’d left off. We were immediately comfortable with each other. What a great gift! Celeste’s experience suggests that such a welcome waits for all of God’s estranged friends.

“I told [God] that I thought he left me high and dry,” Celeste says, “And he told me that he had a plan.” Gotta love these two friends’ honesty! I doubt that God offered an explanation for the tragedy. We wouldn’t understand this side of heaven. I don’t think the “plan” God had was a detailed blueprint going back to the beginning of time. I suspect the plan was more like, “Yes, what happened to your daughter and all those other people was an unspeakable tragedy. But human freedom is also part of my plan. Now, use your freedom to work with me and we’ll bring great good out of this terrible event.”

That’s God’s Godness. God’s power brings great good out of monstrous evil–a way where there is no way; light in the darkness; life out of death. God’s plan included Erin’s parents forming the Erin Peterson Fund. This non-profit organization provides college scholarships to deserving high school students. God’s plan included the “jubilant gospel concert” the Petersons and their church held on the first anniversary of the shooting and every year since. The concert celebrates Erin’s life and her commitment to helping others. The plan also includes the Petersons’ active involvement in the community of those impacted by the Virginia Tech shooting. Their hopeful presence must have opened up some dialog, perhaps even helped some folks resume–or begin–conversations with God.

Sometimes life hits us so hard that we don’t want to talk–to God or anyone else. Just this morning I heard that a friend may have fallen into that category. When it happens–not “if”, but “when”–go ahead and give God the silent treatment if that’s where you are. Know that God waits with us through our silence and waits for us on the other side of our silence. Know that all God asks is that we be ourselves–the ones God already knows and loves more than we comprehend.

But don’t think that’s the end of it. God waits with you through the silence. God has much more for you on the other side of your silence. Expect God to take the worst moments in life and bring out of them more good than we dare to imagine.

 


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