Holy Saturday

On this, the day after,

we sit, gut-punched

with sadness and grief,

unable to imagine tomorrow.

On this day, Lord,

You remind us, though,

that just because we

cannot imagine it,

that doesn’t mean

that the unimaginable—

the glorious,

the wondrous,

heart-stopping,

jaw-dropping,

breath-stealing

manifestation

of Your power—

won’t come to pass.

You, Lord,

thank goodness,

are not limited

by our lack

of imagination.

For even when

our imagination fails,

Lord, You do not fail us.

Your mercy, Your love,

Your faithfulness endures.

Amen.

Lamentations 3:21-23

Take up Your Cross

Some years ago, I had the windows open when two little girls ran past my condo.

They were giggling and laughing and one loudly proclaimed, "It smells like Easter down here!"

I've shared that story before. I love that. It smells like Easter.

What does Easter smell like? I think you know. It smells like spring. It smells like new life. It smells like creation.

It's a beautiful thing.

But before we reach Easter, we must contend with Good Friday.

And this year, Good Friday comes when we, as a world, are experiencing our own personal Good Fridays, being asked not just to sacrifice, but to, as Anne Lamott writes, seemingly "survive the unsurvivable."

But a reminder to us all today that though times are very dark right now, we are not alone.

You are never alone. God is with us. He has not forsaken us. Take comfort in Him.

After all, it smells like Easter out there, doesn't it?

Today's prayer: 

Lord, You have not

forsaken us.

You have not cast

us aside.

You have not swept us

under some sort of cosmic rug

and left us to be forgotten.

Despite our suffering,

despite that soul-wrenching pain

that twists our dreams

and lays flat our hopes,

You have not left us

alone on the cross.

You have not left us

on the cross at all.

We have never been

on the cross.

There’s no room.

You are already there.

We took up our cross,

Lord, and we followed You,

but we never made it

to Golgotha.

We took up our cross,

but then You held out Your hand

and we turned our cross over to You.

You have not forsaken us.

You carry our pain with You.

You suffer our fears for us.

And because of Your sacrifice,

Your love is made known

and magnified within us.

You have not forsaken us.

You have only ever loved us.

Amen.

Psalm 22:1

Matthew 16:24

To Serve ... With Love

The other day, I was talking to Pastor Debbie about what an odd Lenten season this has been and how hard Holy Week will be when so many of us are isolated at home.  

I jokingly said that I guessed there wouldn't be a lot of foot-washing at this Maundy Thursday service.  Maybe a lot of hand-washing, I added.

Pastor Debbie was silent for a moment and then she said, "You know what Sandy is doing for you ... by bringing food to you?  That's foot-washing.  That's serving.  There's a lot of foot-washing going on these days."

And that was my inspiration for this morning's prayer on this Maundy Thursday.

A reminder to let us serve one another.

TO SERVE ... WITH LOVE

Lord, let us serve.

Lord, let us wash

each other’s feet.

Let us cry

each other’s tears.

Let us turn

toward one another

when we see

our neighbor hurting,

when we see

our neighbor fearful,

when we see

our neighbor hungry.

Let us walk toward

rather than run away from.

Let us lend

to one another a hand.

Let us pull

each other up.

Let us lift

each other up in prayer.

Let us serve

as Jesus served

with love, always.

Amen.

John 13:14-15

Into the Woods

Lord, sometimes we see the path

before us very clearly

and we hesitate

because we remember

the fairy tales from our childhood.

Every path in those stories

is filled with shadows,

filled with towering trees

that block out the light,

filled with twisted vines

and roots that snag our feet,

and the only sounds to be heard

are the haunting calls of unseen animals.

It is quick-set fear that chokes

our breath and stops our hearts

and causes us to pause.

We hesitate because we are afraid.

And so Lord, I ask today

that You give us the strength

to run the race that You have set before us.

We know, Lord, though we are afraid,

that we do not walk the path alone,

that You will go before us,

that You will walk ahead of us,

that You will show us the way.

You will not fail us.

You will not forsake us.

You will guard and guide

each step we take.

Amen.

Hebrews 12:1

Deuteronomy 31:8

You Are My Rock

Lord, you are my refuge.

You are my rock.

You are my hope

and to You, I turn

when I am lost

and twisted about

in the shadows of night.

To You, I turn, Lord,

searching for You,

always searching

and leaning into

and then running

toward Your light.

You, Lord, are my refuge.

You are my light.

You are the full moon

that breaks apart the night sky,

that scatters the shadows

and shows me the path home.

You, Lord, are my hope.

You are my promise.

You are the one who breathes

life into the lone hibiscus,

nestled amongst the dead branches,

somehow both sun-bleached

and water-logged and yet surviving,

still, both drought and storm.

You, Lord, are my rock.

It is always You that I return to.

You are my constant.

You are there in the bougainvillea,

bright crimson red popping against

all that green, never failing to bloom,

a true survivor that thrives

even in the worst of times.

And so, I will hope continually, Lord,

and I will praise Your name forever.

Amen.

Psalm 71:1-14

Let It Rain

Lord, I feel reborn

in the sunrise.

I feel woke to the world

and my soul stretches

and yawns and then flexes

its spiritual muscles and says,

“Yes, bring on the day.”

I can do all things, Lord—

all things on sunny days,

because You are light

and Your light feeds me

and strengthens my spirit

and suddenly anything is possible.

But Lord, we need the rain too.

We need the rain to say,

“Stop for a moment.

Listen.  Be still.  Take a breath.”

The sunlight lifts me high

on its shoulders and says,

“Shout!  Sing!  Make a joyful noise!”

But the rain puts its hands

on my shoulders and says,

“Hush, now.  Be still.  I’m doing

something here.”

And so, I sit by the window

and I take deep breaths,

and watch the raindrops

dance across the lake

and delight the fish below.

I watch the rain fall

and seep into the earth

and turn the pale, dusty

soil a deep, rich brown.

I watch the rain caress

each blade of grass,

speaking softly to it

and telling it to drink fully.

Lord, You are light

and we need that light,

but You are also living water

and we come to You,

all of us who are so very thirsty.

So let it rain, Lord.

Let it rain.

Amen.

Psalm 100:1

John 4:10

Philippians 4:13

Prayer also inspired by Crowder's "Let It Rain."

I Pray--But Not in Words

In the shade of the magnolia tree,

surrounded by the music of humming bees

that shower the ground with a storm

of pollen as they dive in—headfirst—into

each bloom and swim in its sweetness—

here, Lord, I find not Eden, not a wondrous

forbidden place to seek escape to,

but rather, Gethsemane, a place where

I can find You, Lord, and speak without words.

Here, Lord, I can pray, not in words,

but in breath, in the great, deep sighing

of my soul, a spirit starved of strength

by the suffering of a world, struggling

through its own Lenten season.

Here, Lord, I can pray, not in words,

but in tears, with confidence that You

count each one, that You hold out Your hand

and collect each one, that not one tear hits

the ground, not one tear is wasted.

Here, Lord, I pray, not in words,

but with offerings, as I stand before You,

hands raised, eyes closed, and give

everything to You, Lord, all my fears,

all my worries, all my hopes for the day.

I give them to You, Lord.

I give it all to You.

And when I have given everything,

when I have prayed until I am empty,

only then, do I find, buried, but now awake

and breathing easy … my faith and my hope

both nestled close with Your eternal love.

Amen.

Psalm 56:8