I Lift up my Soul

To You, Oh Lord,

I lift up my soul.

When I am helpless

but not hopeless,

I give myself,

over to You,

for I have been

a poor caretaker,

having abandoned my spirit

too many times,

having forgotten it, left it outside,

cold and wet, during the storm,

having left it to fend for itself 

when it was starving,

having ignored its cries

when it was thirsty,

and so, I bring myself

back to You, Lord,

back to my Creator,

the One who first breathed life

to my soul and set

me on this journey.

Lord, I have failed You.

My spirit is broken,

broken but breathing.

There is life in me yet.

Heal me, Lord, on this day.

Fix me, mend me, strengthen me,

and then shove me, throw me,

push me out onto the path,

because that is how much faith

You have in me.  You know I can do this.

And that is the faith

I need right now.

Your faith, Lord. 

So, gladden my soul please.

It is You that I need.

Amen.

Psalm 86:4

Psalm 23

Lord, I lean into

Your word.

I lean into

Your promises.

They comfort me

when I wake

in the middle

of the night.

They comfort me

when I wake

first thing

in the morning.

You comfort me, Lord.

You bring me around.

You pull me back.

You take my hand

and with a simple

squeeze,

You tell me …

it’s going to be

all right.

This life

You have given me,

this world

in which I live,

all of this

is Your table

which You have

prepared for me.

And for as long

as I live

HERE

in Your house,

I will fear no evil.

For I am anointed.

You anoint my head

with oil.

You anoint me

with goodness and mercy

that flow and wash

over me.

You comfort me

and in You, I will find

REST.

Amen.

Psalm 23

If Today You Hear His Voice

Lord, in order to hear

Your voice, 

I must make myself

small.

I must still and silence the worries 

that have gone viral within 

and now choke my spirit and heart.

I must crouch low.

I must kneel.

I must embrace the earth.

I must be willing to

shut my eyes and wait.

I must find joy in the wait.

I must find joy in the preparation.

Only then can I hear

Your song.

Only then can I hear You

in the percussive beat

of the owl’s wings

as it flies low, searching

among the shadows for food.

Only then can I hear You

in the trumpeting call

of the limpkin, the sandhill crane,

demanding to be heard.

Only then can I hear You

in the morning dirge

of the mourning dove, cooing,

praying softly as the sun rises.

Only then can I hear You

in the sweet song of the cowbird

that rises and falls like water

racing over rocks in a stream.

Oh, Lord, that today

I might hear Your voice,

and in finding You, find life.

Amen.

Psalm 95:7

Proverbs 8:35

Have a Virtual Lunch with Me

Recently, I’ve started having virtual lunches with friends.

I’m sure you’ve probably done something similar, whether it’s holding meetings for work via Zoom or having family over for Easter dinner with Facetime. 

When I have a virtual lunch with you, I use Facetime and I sit at the dining room table—I never eat there,  I always eat at my computer, but for friends I make an exception—and I put my iPad directly across from me.  I make sure the lighting is just right and I try and put the iPad far enough away that you can’t count my nose-hairs, but also at eye level so that it feels like we’re actually sitting across from one another.

And then I sit there with my lunch and wait for you to get there.

It’s really been an enjoyable experience so far.  I have sat there and talked to friends for hours. 

It’s almost like having them right there in the room with me.

Almost.

Not quite, but almost.

Because there is something missing.

It’s presence.  It’s their physical presence.  It’s having an actual body sitting across from me. It’s not being able to hug them.

It’s not being able to, as the line from the old AT&T commercial goes, “Reach out and touch someone.”

Physical touch is so important.

I think back to when I was volunteering at the hospital a few months ago and praying with patients. Most of the time I didn’t touch them.  But sometimes they would reach out for me.  And you just can’t pull away from someone who is sick and suffering.  So, I would hold their hands.  Or I would lean over and say softly, “Is it okay if I put my hand on your shoulder?” 

Just that tiny thing, holding a hand, touching a shoulder or a foot, when most of the touch they experience in the hospital is a needle in the arm, or a blood pressure cuff squeeze, just that small touch while you pray with them, pulls them into the moment with you, pulls them into a place that is safe, a place where they can breathe easier.

Today’s reading—first from Exodus in the Old Testament and John in the New Testament—we get two contrasting stories as to what it meant at the time to be in God’s presence.

In Exodus, we see Moses, Aaron, Nadab and Abihu and seventy elders worshipping God—from a distance.  Moses alone can approach God, but the rest have to stay back.  Moses alone goes to God, talks with God, and then comes back and tells everyone what was said.

And then there are burnt offerings and blood, quite a lot of blood.

And then contrast that image with the story we are told in John with Peter and the others out fishing when Jesus arrives at the shore—post resurrection.

This is actually one of my favorite stories.

Peter has this Forrest Gump moment.

You remember that scene from the movie?  Forrest is out on his shrimping boat when he passes the dock and sees Lieutenant Dan sitting in his wheelchair.  Forrest gets this huge smile on his face and begins to wave and then starts walking toward Lieutenant Dan—right off the boat and into the water.  He then swims to the dock to greet his friend.

In today’s reading from John, Peter does something very similar.  He and the others are out on their boat, fishing, rather unsuccessfully, when a man appears on the shore.  He suggests that the fishermen try casting their nets on the other side of the boat and when they do, they wind up with so many fish, they cannot haul them all onto the boat.

This is when they realize the man on the shore is Jesus and Peter is so happy, he can’t wait for them to maneuver the boat back to shore.  He jumps into the water and swims to Jesus.

Now let’s look again at these two stories.

In Exodus, you have the people of Israel interacting with God from a distance.  They are interacting with God through an intermediary, in this case, Moses.  Think of it as the Bible’s very own social distancing program.

In John, you see Jesus sit with his disciples and cook breakfast for them, break bread with them.

In Exodus, the Israelites must offer burnt offerings and sacrifice oxen.  Moses literally covers the people with blood.

In John, Jesus is the sacrifice and it is his blood that saves us.

In Exodus, God is somewhere else.  He’s over there.  He watches over the Israelites.  He protects them, but their only tangible interaction with Him is in the form of sacrifices.  Their only connection to Him is through Moses.

Think of it this way.  Think back to my virtual lunches with friends.  Think of God as the face on the iPad.  Think of Moses as the iPad.  Think of the money you spent on the iPad as your sacrifice. 

(Please feel free to find as many problems with that analogy as you can.)

But while the Israelites’ interaction with God through Moses was the best they could hope for, Jesus offers something so much more.

You don’t need a virtual lunch with Jesus.

In John, Jesus cooks breakfast for his friends.  He’s right there with them.

And this, this is the precious gift of Jesus, that God is available to everyone.  No social distancing.  No being put on hold.  You can feel His presence right now.  He is there right beside you. 

He is present.  Always.

Amen.

Born Again

I am awake!

No, not awake—

reborn!

Born anew.

Born again.

The seal on my soul

has broken

and now I can

breathe.

And now with every

breath

I can see

the world, the universe,

everything

once hidden is open

to me.

And my spirit

soars,

and my spirit

sings,

because no matter where

I stand,

I am standing with You, Lord.

And I get to watch now

as you create and recreate

the world.

I get to see Your brushstrokes

on the shimmering wings

of a dragonfly,

on the burning orange sky

at sunset.

I stand with You, Lord

and Your love sustains

me,

saturates me,

fills me to overflowing.

This is what it means to be

born again.

It means my spirit is

unleashed

and now I’m free

to follow You, Lord.

Amen.

1 Peter 1:23

The Gift of Night

You, Lord have made us

a gift of the night.

The night is to be treasured.

There is nothing to fear.

There is only silence.

There is only the sound

of my own breathing,

of my own footsteps,

of the dried leaves

chattering in the wind.

There is stillness here.

There is rest.

There is opportunity

to look inward and listen

to the yearnings of our souls.

The night is dark,

but here with You, Lord,

there is no darkness.

There are no shadows.

There is only an inner light,

a Pentecostal flame,

that we can nurture

and kindle and grow.

Oh, Lord, You have made

us a gift of the night.

And for that, let us give thanks.

Amen.

A Light Rain

This morning a light rain

woke me, speaking

in a soft murmur,

a language only the flowers

and songbirds understand.

Come to me and drink

all who are thirsty.

And hours later, I found

myself kneeling in the darkness

beside a tiny rose, its petals

drooping like tongues as droplets

of rain slid and fell to the ground.

And it was in this moment, Lord,

as I held my breath, afraid to disturb

this Holy Communion, that I realized

the cup of Salvation is offered to all.

We are all waiting for You, Lord,

the flowers, the trees, everything

that breathes and lives, waits for You,

ready to rejoice in Your presence.

Amen.

Isaiah 25:9

You Cannot Run from the Storm

This morning as I took my predawn walk, the night sky lit up with lightning and the silence was broken with thunder.

And I remembered, with a smile on my face that time a few years back when I was walking in the dark and it began to storm and I said to myself, "That's okay, the lightning can't find me in the dark."

Silly and stupid, but it was 5 o'clock in the morning, and my brain wasn't fully functioning yet.

The storms of life will always find us.

But they don't last forever.

Darkness gives way to light.

The night gives way to the sunrise.

Today's prayer:

We cannot hide from the lightning.

We cannot run from the storm.

We cannot stop the sun from setting

or the full moon from nightly waning.

And yet, in the midst of this, Lord,

You have given us hope.

Sometimes that night sky seems

to have swallowed up the stars,

but then the new moon begins to wax

and this little light begins to shine.

And even the very darkest of nights

can’t hold back the rising sun.

There are storms.

There are struggles.

There are nights

that seem to last forever.

But there is also the parting of clouds,

and a darkness that gives way to light.

Each morning the sun rises,

and a new life begins.

Every day is Sunday.

Every day is resurrection.

Every day is fresh hope, Lord,

handed to us, palms up, head bowed,

by You, Lord, as an offering of love and life.

Amen.

Psalm 121

I Will Call Upon

Why is everything so hard these days? I found myself asking this morning on my walk.  Why do even the simplest tasks seem to be so overwhelming?  Why am I not stronger?

I have a feeling these are questions you’ve been asking yourself recently.  Why does everything seem so overwhelming?

And honestly, the answer is pretty simple.  If you are feeling overwhelmed these days it’s because, chances are, you’ve never had to do (thank you Prince) this thing called life during a pandemic that has shut down the world.

So yeah, taking out the trash, doing the laundry, feeding the kids … feeding yourself … all of these things that we are used to doing without giving them a second’s thought … seem so much more now because of the pandemic, the worry about our finances, our health, our children’s education, our family’s health—all of these things are taking up every last bit of emotional strength we have.

And there is nothing left for the normal stuff.

But here is where I feel optimistic … despite everything going on in the world right now, we’re still doing the normal stuff.  The kids are getting fed.  The dog still gets his walk.  The chores eventually get done.

We’re still here.

We’re surviving.

And yes it’s hard, but that doesn’t make us weak—that makes us strong.

We are doing everything we used to do, but doing it now through a pandemic, a generational event, the consequences of which we will be dealing with for many years to come.

We’re doing it.

Even when we are weak, we are strong.  

You are strong.  God wants you to know this.  He is with you.  And you are strong.

Today's prayer.

Lord, whenever the darkness

of night seems oppressive,

whenever the clouds hang

low over my head,

whenever I feel the weight

of the world pushing down

on my shoulders as I walk,

let me always remember

to call upon You, Lord.

Because even when my feet stumble,

even when I fall and feel the cold

pavement against my cheek,

You are there Lord.

No matter how weak I feel,

no matter how tired and weary,

You pull me out of my nightmares,

You rescue me from my fears.

You lift me up,

and You walk with me,

and You carry me.

Your hand is always on my arm,

guiding me, keeping me straight

on the path, though my legs may wobble.

Your grace, Lord.

Your grace is sufficient.

Your mercy and grace,

Your love and faithfulness

flow through me in all my struggles.

and therefore, whenever I am weak,

then I am strong with You.

Amen.

2 Corinthians 12:9-11

I Believe

You are God’s

purpose.

You are God’s

reason for being.

There is no one

God loves more

in all the universe

than you.

God created

the universe

for you.

The sunrise—

the sound

of ocean waves

breaking—

the gritty warmth

of the sand

between your toes—

all of it for you.

The ground

you walk on

is holy ground.

The air

you breathe

is the breath of the Spirit.

Everything around

you is made holy,

not just because

of Who created it,

but because of who

it was created for.

You are

a precious

child of God.

Own it.

Declare it.

Shout it.

Sing it.

You are

so loved.

Amen.

1 John 4:16

I'm Alive

I

am

alive.

Lord, I

am alive

today in You.

I am alive.

And suddenly

birdsong is now

a hymn.

And a chilled

northern wind

is the breath

of angels gathering.

This hard pavement

under my feet

tells me the world

is sturdy and strong.

And even

the creak

in my knees

reminds me that

I can still walk,

that I can still move

and that my morning

walks with You, Lord,

are not a walk at all

but a dance with the Trinity. *

And all these things

tell me this:

I

am

alive.

Amen and Hallelujah

1 Corinthians 15:22

*I think Timothy Keller’s book Jesus the King: Understanding the Life and Death of the Son of God is where I first heard the Trinity described as a dance.  I’ve read that same description elsewhere as well, but I wanted to make sure I gave Keller some credit.

The Song of Hope

When I was seventeen and spending the summer down here in Florida with my grandparents, it wasn’t the sunlight that woke me up every morning.

It was my grandmother who would walk into my room singing.

“Good morning to you, good morning to you.  We’re all in our places with sunshiny faces.”

Every.Time.

Eventually, I would make my way to the kitchen for breakfast and there I would find my grandfather.  He would be wearing what he always wore first thing in the morning, dress slacks, top button and belt undone and a white undershirt.

It was the most casual I ever saw him.  I’m trying to think if I ever saw the man’s legs.

And much like Grandma, Grandpa would be singing too, in a very loud baritone.  “Oh what a beautiful morning.  Oh what a beautiful day.”

I was seventeen; I can’t say that I ever appreciated their incessant cheerfulness first thing in the morning.

But the memories always make me smile.  And I was thinking of them when I first started writing today’s prayer, thinking of the sunrise and of song.

Today's prayer:

Lord, let us wake

this morning

to the Song of Hope,

not a lullaby

to help us sleep

but an anthem

to stir our souls.

Lord, let us wake

to the sunrise.

Lord, You are the sunrise.

You are that moment

that comes right when

we begin to worry,

right when we begin

to wonder if the night

will last forever,

right when we begin

to doubt that morning

will ever come—

right then,

at that moment,

You arrive, Lord

on the backs of dolphins,
swimming in the river

and riding the wakes

of morning’s first fishermen.

You arrive with the hibiscus,

Your plus-one to the new day,

who twists and looks for

You over her shoulder.

The flowers too feel

drawn to Your light.

You are the sunrise, Lord.

You are the One

I grow anxious for,

the One I check my watch for,

the One who is never early,

but also never late and always on time.

You are the Song of Hope.

You are a promise held tight,

a promise that night will end

and a new day will begin.

Amen.

Psalm 42:8

Shine

Lord, let us shine today.

Let everything we do

be a reflection

of Your mercy,

of Your grace,

of Your faithfulness.

May we trust, Lord.

May we see a helping hand

and take it without worry,

without shame or fear.

Let everything we do

be a testimony

to Your love

to Your wit,

to Your joy.

May we smile, Lord.

May we watch our children play.

May we laugh until bursting

at their explosive joy.

Let everything we do

be a sign of Your presence,

of Your healing

of Your empathy

of Your unconditional love.

May we grieve with others, Lord.

May we share each other’s tears.

May we mourn and know that You,

Lord, are the keeper of our tears.

Let everything we do

be a reflection of You, Lord.

Let our light shine so that 

we may give glory to You.

Amen.

Matthew 5:16

The Wings of Dawn

Lord, You loved us

into existence.

You formed us

from dust.

You filled our lungs

with the essence

of Your spirit.

The first breath

we took flooded

our body with You.

Your word, Lord is written

into our very foundation,

coded into our programming.

We carry You

in every cell,

in every molecule,

in every atom.

There is not a thing

in this universe

that is not a part of You.

The planets and their moons,

the butterfly, the aphid,

the endless expanse

of glacial ice at the poles,

the rain of pollen

from the magnolia bloom—

everything that exists today

carries some part of You within it.

And so, we cannot hide

from You.

If we flee to the stars,

You are there.

If we rise on

the wings of dawn,

You are there.

We can never be lost

because even in the darkness

You are there.

You are everywhere,

and You will always find us.

Amen.

Psalm 139:7-12

My Soul Will Rejoice

In the stillness of dawn,

before the world wakes,

I will sit with You, Lord.

We will sit in silence.

I will not have to say a word,

for You discern my thoughts from afar.*

We will sit and our knees

will brush up against each other,

and I will lean in and rest

my head on Your shoulder,

and I will breathe.

And after a moment, a minute,

an eternity (what is time when you

are with God) the sky will turn

and the deepest darkness

will begin to fade to gray.

The mockingbird will begin to sing.

The cardinal will call out for his mate.

A small tongue of fire, a pink flame

of light, will emerge on the horizon.

We will sit, Lord, and watch the sunrise.

And my heart will be glad,**

and my soul will rejoice.

Amen.

*Psalm 16:9

**Psalm 139:2

My Portion II

Lord, You are the sun

streaming through

the tall trees

and lighting the path

in front of me.

You are the light

that I follow, but also

the shadows, the dark,

dancing leaves waving

hello in the breeze

and saying,

“Stop, rest here

in the heat of the day.”

Lord, You are the two

butterflies, butter-colored

and small, circling and darting,

dancing with one another

as they alight here

on this blade of grass

and here on this purple bloom.

You, Lord, are the one

who makes me smile.

You Lord, are the burbling

and gurgling and cooing stream

that giggles with delight

as it pours and slips and slides

over the furry, mossy rocks.

Lord, You are the storm.

You are the blackened clouds,

filled to bursting and then exploding

in a torrent of rain that rides

the wind and sweeps across

the fields like white-capped rapids.

You are everything, Lord.

Remind me of that, Lord, daily.

Remind me that You are everything

I will ever want, and You are many things

that I wasn’t even aware that I needed.

You are my portion, Lord.

You show me the path

and in You is fullness of joy.

Amen.

Psalm 16:5, 11

Holy Communion

Be gentle with us, Lord,

be gentle.

Our spirits, these days,

are so very, very fragile.

Enrich us, Lord, please.

Make us whole again

with the sacrifice

of Your body and blood.

For in taking the bread

we find life.

And in drinking the wine

we are transfused

with Your spirit.

Let Your Holy Spirit

now descend upon us

in a new baptism.

Strengthen us.

Stabilize us.

Lift us again to our feet

and send us running

to spread Your Good News.

We shall not die

but live,

for You have

become our salvation.

Amen.

Psalm 118:21

Clothe Yourselves with Love

Lord, we come to You

because we are weary.

We come to You

because we are afraid.

We come to You

because we are lost

and tired of wandering.

We come to You

so You can show us the way.

We come to You

because Your burden is light,

because You are kind

and gentle and humble at heart.

We come to You

for rest and because we cannot

take one more step on our own.

Lord, we come to You, today

for refuge, to rest

in the shadow of Your wings.

We come to You

to be clothed in Your love,

so that we may again find

peace in our hearts,

a song in our step,

a joy in our spirit

that loudly proclaims

the glory of Your love.

Amen.

Colossians 3:14, 16-17

Psalm 36:7

Matthew 11:29

Alleluia

Lord, let today

be another

alleluia day,

filled with

alleluias of praise.

(He is risen.)

Alleluias of relief.

(He is risen.)

Alleluias of exclamation.

(He is risen!)

Let all the earth, Lord,

be filled with You!

Let every breath,

both in—

(alleluia)

and out—

(alleluia)

fill our lungs

and nourish our souls

with Your Spirit.

You formed us, Lord

from dust—

(alleluia)

and put Your breath

within us—

(alleluia.)

By Your word, Lord,

the heavens were made.

By Your word, Lord,

You gave us life.

And that word now

forever lives.

Alleluia.

Amen.

Job 33:4

Psalm 33:6

Genesis 2:7

John 1:1

No Social Distancing Required

There is an episode of The Simpsons, from season 2, where Marge, so disturbed to see her youngest daughter Maggie emulating the violence she sees on the cartoon “Itchy and Scratchy,” she actually gets the show’s producers to do away with the violence completely and produce a more wholesome show.

Of course, when they do this, none of the kids want to watch it.

And so, there’s this scene where one by one, the kids leave their TVs, walk out the front door of their house, look up to the sky and rub their eyes as if this were the first time they were seeing the sky and sun.  They go to the playground and they fly kites and play marbles.

I’ve been thinking about this scene a lot lately.

I suspect that once this pandemic is over, that once we are told that it’s safe to go outside again and resume our daily lives, that we will respond in much the same way as those kids in The Simpsons.  

We will step outside and rub our eyes because after all of this, we won’t be able to help but see the world differently.

I have no doubt that the first time I see my grandmother, I will cry.  I have no doubt that the first time I hug my dad, I will cry.  Seriously, every time someone brings me food and water, so I don’t have to put myself at risk in the grocery store … I cry.

Heaven help us if we ever take these things for granted again.

Our world has been completely upended in a way that few of us have ever known.

And all the things we have counted on our whole lives, our jobs, our families, our church have been taken from us in one way or another.  Some of us have lost our jobs, all of us have been separated from family, and many of us now find ourselves worshipping on Sunday alone—this is a new world.

And it’s terrifying.

And in that way, I think we can better relate this Easter season to what the disciples must have felt following Jesus’ crucifixion.

Their world was upended too.  All the dreams they had, all the things they thought they would do as one of Jesus’ followers … all of those hopes, gone … like that.

Some, like Mary Magdalene, could not bear the separation and kept watch over the tomb.

Others, like Peter who returned to fishing, took comfort in the familiar.

In our current world where we are told that the best way to show love to our family is by not touching them, can you better appreciate good old doubting Thomas and his desire to touch Jesus just once more?  Did he really need to touch Jesus’ wounds to believe that he had risen?  Was it a lack of faith or simply fear, fear of being wrong, fear of hoping too much?

Like the disciples, we too are grieving, not just those of us who have lost a loved one to the virus, but all of us who have lost a way of life, who have lost the things that gave our lives meaning and purpose.

We are grieving.

But here’s the good news.  Are you ready for some good news?

Though we may not know what the future holds, God knows.

And though God does not cause our suffering, He will use it.

He will use it to do good things, to do amazing things, to transform us, to remake us.

As is said in Matthew 4:16, “…. for those of us who sat in … the shadow of death light has dawned.”

This is resurrection.  This is what Jesus promises, to bring us out of the darkness of death and into the light of life.  And we follow him, why?  Because he knows the way.  He’s been there.

“I shall not die, but I shall live,” our psalm for today, Psalm 118:117 reads. 

Life is what Jesus promises.

It is all he ever promised.

Living water.  Light.  Life.

Psalm 71:20 which reads in part, “…. You will restore my life again, from the depths of the earth, you will again bring me up.”

Yes, things are very dark right now.

But Jesus is our beacon.  He is our light, shining on the path before us, telling us where to pick up our feet so we don’t stumble and fall.

He is our light.  And with him no darkness is found.

He is our savior.  He is our salvation.

Take his hand.  No social distancing with him is required.

Amen.

Salvation is Here

Why are you crying?

Why are you looking

for the living among the dead?

Why are you still so lost?

Step out.

Step out.

We, who once walked in darkness,

have now seen a great light.

Wake up.

Rub that sleep from

your eyes and look.

Salvation is here.

He is risen.

Jesus is alive.

And we are alive.

We have been reborn.

God—on this day—

has made all things new.

We have been made new.

We have been given a clean heart.

We have been given a new spirit.

And we are alive.

We can feel it,

our spirits bursting,

overflowing with the living water.

Wake up.

Wipe away those tears.

You are alive.

You will never again sleep

the sleep of death.

We are alive today,

because He has risen.

Amen.

Psalm 118:17

Romans 13:11

Psalm 51:10

Isaiah 9:2

John 20:15