Sunday Prayers; May 17th, 2020
(kind of)
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Sunday Prayers, May 17, 2020
I do not know when we can gather together again in worship, Lord.
So, for now I just ask that:
When I sing along in my kitchen to each song on Stevie Wonder’s Songs in The Key of Life Album, that it be counted as praise. (Happy 70thBirthday, SW!)
And that when I read the news and my heart tightens in my chest, may it be counted as a Kyrie.
And that when my eyes brighten in a smile behind my mask as I thank the cashier may it be counted as passing the peace.
And that when I water my plants and wash my dishes and take a shower may it be counted as remembering my baptism.
And that when the tears come and my shoulders shake and my breathing falters, may it be counted as prayer.
And that when I stumble upon a Tabitha Brown video and hear her grace and love of you may it be counted as a hearing a homily.
And that as I sit at that table in my apartment, and eat one more homemade meal, slowly, joyfully, with nothing else demanding my time or attention, may it be counted as communion.
Amen.
-Nadia Bolz-Weber
For what or for whom do the people of God pray?
Comments are open. But don’t be an asshole.
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Thank you for this beautiful morning prayer. You helped shake a poem free:
I wear my prayers like morning on the sky
where every gesture is an act of God:
each whimper a devotion, hymnic cries,
I find my feet but shakily, and nod
some life into the muscles that protest
the dawn that comes: I'm comforted in sleep
and though it seems that every dream is blest
and rising to the world makes me weep
now count me here. In grief and muttering
profanity--but even that's a prayer
when all the world's aggrieved and shuddering
as it recalls the memories most fair,
the mornings spent outside with company
on God's green earth, the blissful and the free.
A prayer by my daughter:
Right now my heart is broken for the many hurting people looking for hope and stability in Donald Trump.
My heart is broken for his many wives and children.
My heart is broken for ALL those who have been swept into this warped reality, gaslit, lied to, abused, used for personal gain by this deeply broken man.
My heart is broken for baby Donald, born into privilege, deceit, emotional abuse, trauma, and mental illness. Baby Donald, made in the image of God, born into sinful systems, fed a steady diet of evil, breaking his own soul again and again as he turns away from love, until that image is distorted and crushed, visible only with the eyes of his creator.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.