Category Archives: Prayer

Island Living

At your command all things came to be: the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home.

By your will they were created and have their being.

It’s the cosmic view at the beginning, going smaller as the sentence progresses: every single thing in this created universe shrinks down to our off-the-beaten-path planet. This cosmic expanse keeps expanding, with everything around us moving out and away from the point where it all started. It’s impossible for us to see such movement  – the scale is beyond our perception, and we are in the thick of it. Some things are just too big to see, and our universe as a whole is one of them.

In some ways, our beloved earth is very much an island, a small dot in this vast expanse of interstellar space. It is a small home, taking up such a little piece of the galaxy that it hardly bears mentioning. But for us, for me and every other living being, it seems almost endlessly large. Perhaps this is why loneliness is something many of us experience- a vague sense of being unimportant and unnoticeable to the larger universe.

But our blue planet island isn’t really alone, and it isn’t disconnected from this immense universe. For the scientifically minded, we are connected to everything by gravity and strong and weak forces. For the poetically inclined, our common big bang origin makes us all kin. For the seekers of God, it’s our creator that binds all things together.

Years ago, Margaret Wise Brown wrote a lovely children’s book – The Little Island. A kitten visits a small island off the coast of Maine, separated from the main land by miles of ocean. But a fish tells him that at its roots, the island is part of the whole – not disconnected or alone at all, but a tiny part of this big world. Although he cannot see the connection, the kitten believes this wonderful truth.

I can’t see how my island home, my planet, is connected to everything deep down. But I am kitten enough to believe this truth, even if I can’t see it.

And it was good to be a little Island. A part of the world and a world of its own all surrounded by the bright blue sea. [Margaret Wise Brown, The Little Island, New York: Dell Dragonfly Books, 1973, last line. Originally published in 1946 by Doubleday & Company, inc]

Praiseworthy

God of all power, Ruler of the Universe, you are worthy of glory and praise.

Glory to you for ever and ever.

I got an email from the town manager’s office yesterday. It was a reminder for submitting an annual report, and it came with an attachment to answer any questions that might come up. Since this was the first I’d ever heard of an annual report, and I had many questions, I opened the attachment right away. It wasn’t what I expected, and it wasn’t helpful. There were very specific directions for the form the report should take, along with precise directions on the acceptable format for tables and charts. There wasn’t a single mention of what the report should contain – no list of questions to answer, no sample of a report from a previous year, and no “for more help, contact ____” to find them. My first thought: all form and no content makes for a dull report and a poorly managed town.

But today’s prayer words are all about content: Who God is, what God has created, and who we are in the whole thing. We may say the same form of this prayer week in and week out – a familiar box for a gift that it cannot fully contain. No matter who prays the words, no matter where, no matter when, who God is will always be bigger than the words. All powerful, universe ruling, praiseworthy and glorious – there aren’t enough adjectives and there aren’t enough days in a lifetime to describe such a loving God. Such words are content in good form, but never fully contained.

Lord of the Universe, may my life be more than empty form. May the form my life takes be a vessel of your love. Amen.

 

[For complete prayer, click “Prayer C” above]

About Face

Then, facing the table, the Celebrant proceeds

Rubrics – the little italicized lines that let everyone know what to do during the worship service. There aren’t many of them, but this is an important one. The woman or man leading the service has been facing the congregation – one part of the give and take, exhortation and response. Now she or he turns around, facing the same direction as everyone else. The point of this isn’t to show the back side of whatever robe is being worn. Something else entirely is going on, and it’s something we overlook or forget to our own diminishment.

The men and women who choose ordination, who choose to pray for and with any and all who enter the church (and travel to pray with and for those who don’t), hold a unique position among their congregants. Their vocations and education may set them apart to serve others in the name of Jesus, and they bear the responsibility of leadership. But when it comes to directing their hearts, minds, bodies, and souls to the Lord who made them, they are the same as everyone else. No higher, no lower, not facing another direction. This about face is a weekly reminder to clergy and congregation alike that everyone stands before God on equal footing.

Everyone comes before God a beloved child – no exceptions and no exclusions.

Word Change

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right to give (him/God/our) thanks and praise.

What we say depends on the church we are in. Some churches stick with the original him – either for reasons of tradition or for the comfort of the worshipers.

In other churches, the original him has been altered to a gender neutral God. God isn’t male or female, or God is both male and female, so using a proper noun instead of a gendered pronoun is one way of reflecting this truth. Another might be to alternate between saying him and her.

In still other congregations, the direct object of our thanks and praise disappears, replaced by an our to describe the thanks and praise. A genderless plural adjective reflects the worshipers; God as the object of our thanks and praise is implied from the sentence above.

The word change is important, but I don’t think it’s the heart of the exchange. For me, it’s the call to thank God and praise God every minute, every day, every week. There are no exceptions. It is right to thank God and praise God, regardless of our particular circumstances on any given day.

There’s a theological idea that says humanity’s special place in creation has nothing to do with our geographical or temporal location in the last few seconds of a billions of years old creation process. As self conscious and articulate creatures, it is our responsibility and privilege to be the universe’s self-awareness. We are the universe knowing itself as a beloved creation. There is no other response to this self-knowledge than humility; there is no other response to the God who created everything than praise and thanks.

For such a truth, perhaps It is right to give God our thanks and praise would be best…

Uplifting

Lift up your hearts.

We lift them to the Lord.

At any graduation, baptism, sporting event, or concert you are likely to see them: parents lifting their children over their heads or onto their shoulders. Without a higher perch, most children would see only a collection of legs, wallets, belts, and shoes. There’s no way for them to see over the crowds without a willing, caring adult giving them a lift. The littlest and youngest of us would never see the diplomas handed out, the singer or actor, winning shot or the newly baptized baby without moving to a higher location.

I think the same is true with prayers and worship. If someone doesn’t remind me to lift up my heart, I doubt I’d ever see past the forest of liturgical words to catch sight of Jesus.

With You

The Lord be with you.

And also with you.

They can be found earlier in the order of service as well, these back and forth words of blessing. The Lord be with you, says the worship leader. And also with you, says everyone else. On many Sundays, in many churches, they are rushed through, as if there isn’t enough time for giving and receiving blessings. In some places, the leader speaks them in a slow, dull, monotone; the congregation barely mumbles the response, as if somehow their part isn’t particularly necessary or welcome. They are words thrown away, as if they have outlived their usefulness or might be an embarrassment to everyone involved in their exchange. How important can these words be if they are read every week, and if anyone can say them?

The Lord be with you. Someone is praying that God will accompany me wherever I go. Every week, asking for the grace of God to be with me, present to me. I may know the person asking this favor, I may not. If I wander into a random church on almost any given Sunday, some complete stranger will pray for Holy God to walk with me. In these words, I am wished a blessed life, a brush with the sacred in every moment I breathe. The same is true for you. Whoever you are, whatever you do, wherever you go: The Lord be with you. Walk in holiness and peace. Know that God holds you fast. You are not alone.

It’s a terrible thing, throwing away such a profound request. And it goes both ways. When I say the response without thought or intention, I’m missing out on a sacred truth: My prayer for God to be with another is a bold and holy request. The least I can do is say them like I mean them: And also with you.

How else will I live like I mean them?

(for complete prayer, click “PrayerC” above)

 

 

Enter or Shelve?

It’s a little over a week since Easter – the empty tomb, miraculous appearances, and disbelief transformed into abiding faith. Even Thomas finds his faith after touching the risen Jesus.

My faith starts in a stable, wades in the Jordan, hangs on a cross, and arrives by way of an empty tomb. Year after year, the same journey; every three years, even the same Bible passages. Why do I keep with it?

I don’t think faith can be solved, figured out, or understood enough to box up and store like off season clothes on a dusty closet shelf. It’s not a puzzle to solve or a formula to memorize. It’s not really an “it” at all, as far as I can tell. I can’t hold it in my hand or even see its edges because it holds me. I am living in it, held by it, defined by it. The seasons and scriptures aren’t pieces of a faith puzzle: they are what draws me into God’s embrace. There is no end to where they can take me in this Gospel world.

Faith is entering this God given world and knowing I belong here. Many and varied are the ways for me to find it. I just have to remember I seek to enter a holy world. It’s only when I try to make myself bigger than God’s world that my faith shrinks to something easily shelved with next winter’s clothes…

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What will I do with it?

A few years back, an acquaintance of mine dropped her kids at a friend’s house and hit the local bar. After a few hours and way too many drinks, she jumped behind the wheel of her SUV. Going way too fast, she drove straight into a huge oak tree. With no seat belt on, the impact sent her onto the steering column, puncturing an artery and compressing her lungs. Another driver saw the whole thing, called the ambulance, and waited outside the car. Certain she was dead, he didn’t even try to get her out of the car.

She should have died, but the car’s dashboard compressed her body enough to stop the bleeding. She was taken out of the car and flown to Boston. She awoke several days later, damaged, with a long road to recovery ahead, but still alive.

Some said she was lucky because she lived through it; others said she was unlucky to have the crash in the first place. I don’t think she was either because I don’t think it was really an accident. For whatever reason, she put herself in harm’s way – who knows whether she intended to hit the tree or just didn’t care enough about her life to call a cab rather than drive drunk. Either way, this was a desperate act.

But miracles happen. For whatever reason, she was given her life back, given a second chance to honor the grace and holiness of her life. She spent many months in the hospital, then returned to her life – home, children, worries, and blessings.

I’ve often wondered what she thought, waking up to a second chance. It was a very real opportunity to live an almost literally resurrected life. She must have seen it for the holy gift that it was because she never did such a thing again.

I’ve never had such an experience, but every morning I wake up I have the same question and the same choice: what will I do with this life that’s been handed to me once again? Will I see it for the holy gift it is? Mine is an ordinary life, but it’s also a living, breathing resurrection. So is everyone else’s.

Let’s hope I live a life worthy of such a blessing.

 

A Closer Look

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It’s the second half of Holy Week. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday stand between me and Easter – the path through the dark woods of my soul. I didn’t grow up in churches that observed these dark days; we went from Palm Sunday to Easter, sometimes with a Wednesday Bible study of the crucifixion, sometimes not. The sanctuary and Sunday school room crosses were always empty: why would anyone put the risen Jesus back on the cross? The resurrection already happened and there was no going back.

I understand why my childhood churches had no crucifixes, and why they emphasized celebration and victory rather than the suffering of Jesus in the garden and the grisly way he died. I can’t say that the people in those churches were any more or less faithful, any kinder or colder – the path of faith runs through all neighborhoods. But I do think something of the human condition was skipped over rather than faced – not about Jesus, but about the rest of humanity. While I hate to admit it, I doubt I’d do any better than the flawed, fragile people who stood by while Jesus died. Most everyone ran away, avoiding the whole scene. A few women and John the beloved disciple managed to stay and hear the final few words from the cross. This reveals more about myself than I usually care to see or admit. I’m no better than anyone else, and I’m just as likely to run away as anyone else. Given the right circumstances, just enough fear for my life, I would betray Jesus, too.

Holy Week isn’t a time to indulge in self loathing: it’s a time to take a long, hard look at myself – faults, strengths, and the whole mixed bag I call my inner and outer life. If I’m honest about what I see, I’ll ask for God to hold my hand as I walk this world. If I’m not, I just might fool myself into thinking I can make the walk alone.

Take my hand, O Lord, and walk with me through these dark days and nights. I need you. Amen.

Why Worship?

A Holy Week offering from Bill Albritton

During this week, I ponder why we worship and what my faith is really about. In confirmation class, we are focusing on the two main creeds we use in our worship service. One, the Nicene Creed, is communal in that we use the plural We. The other is personal, using I as in I believe in God… What do I mean when I make such a declaration?

Saying We believe in God or I believe in God says we have a relationship with God. In other words, God’s existence doesn’t depend on my belief that God exists. It’s a whole different statement than I believe God exists.

I find this very meaningful as I prepare for Resurrection Sunday. In class, we ask ourselves: why worship? One of the answers stared us in the face – a chapter title from J. Gamber’s My Faith, My Life: A Teen’s guide to the Episcopal Church. Chapter Five is Worship: Responding to God’s Blessings. We are giving our hearts to God and declaring our thankfulness for our relationship with the most gracious One. And, as in many relationships, it grows stronger when we spend time together. Maybe that’s as good an answer as any.