"Resting On God" - Valley of Vision

This prayer has been deeply convicting and encouraging lately...

O God, most high, most glorious,

the thought of Thine infinite serenity cheers me,

for I am toiling and moiling, troubled and distressed,

but Thou art for ever at perfect peace.

Thy designs cause thee no fear or care of unfulfilment,

they stand fast as the eternal hills.

Thy power knows no bond, Thy goodness no stint.

Thou bringest order out of confusion, and my defeats are Thy victories:

The Lord God omnipotent reigneth.

I come to Thee as a sinner with cares and sorrows,

to leave every concern entirely to Thee,

every sin calling for Christ's precious blood;

revive deep spirituality in my heart;

let me live near to the great Shepherd,

hear His voice, know its tones, follow its calls.

Keep me from deception by causing me to abide in the truth,

from harm by helping me to walk in the power of the Spirit.

Give me intenser faith in the eternal verities,

burning into me by experience the things I know;

Let me never be ashamed of the truth of the gospel,

that I may bear its reproach, vindicate it,

see Jesus as its essence,

know in it the power of the Spirit.

Lord, help me, for I am often lukewarm and chill;

unbelief mars my confidence, sin makes me forget Thee.

Let the weeds that grow in my soul be cut at their roots;

grant me to know that I truly live only when I live to Thee,

that all else is trifling.

Thy presence alone can make me holy, devout, strong and happy.

Abide in me, gracious God.

If you're looking for more prayers like this, pick up a leather one or paperback.

To make things new that never were - Walter Brueggemann

A prayer from Walter Brueggemann from his book "Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth" for Pentecost Sunday:

We name you wind, power, force, and then,

imaginatively, "Third Person."

We name you and you blow...

blow hard,

blow cold,

blow hot,

blow strong,

blow gentle,

blow new...

Blowing the world out to nothing to abundance,

blowing the church out of despair to new life,

blowing little David from shepherd boy to messiah,

blowing to make things new that never were.

So blow this day, wind,

blow here and there, power,

blow even us, force,

Rush us beyond ourselves,

Rush us beyond our hopes,

Rush us beyond our fears, until we enact your newness in the world.

Come, come spirit. Amen.

Fullness In The Desolate

Over the last couple years, I've been trying to take a Sabbath once a week. Basically, I'm attempting to have one day in the week that's set apart to be different than the other 6 days. A day to remind myself that I'm created, I'm not immortal, and that I'm sustained by a Hand infinitely stronger than mine. It reminds me to be a child again, to breathe a little deeper, and to not shoulder the cares of the world alone. In the words of Eugene Peterson, the Sabbath is a day to "pray and play". Initially I felt like I was able to find the sacredness of the day and really attempt to make it different, but over time it's gravitated back towards a usual day and less "set apart". I find myself tasking and not being. I find myself not praying or playing. As I sit down to pray, to listen, and read, I end up picking up my iPhone and checking Twitter or Facebook, or reply to an email that could have easily waited till the next day. Then I'll get back to what I was doing, but sure enough, a few minutes later I'm back on my email. Have I become a slave to technology & immediacy? Am I really not able to simply focus on one thing or person for an extended period of time?

Not only does this affect my times spent with God but it also affects my time spent with others. With my wife, friends, and co-workers. As I'm in conversation with them, I'll get a text, a voicemail that I "need" to check, a phone call I "must" take. Charles E. Hummel wrote a short a short essay titled "Tyranny of the Urgent", where the basic idea is that we too easily allow the "urgent things to crowd out the important ones." I find this to be profoundly true in my life. When I look back at my life in 15 years, what will I think the truly important things were? What were the urgent ones? It's almost as if the only reason I attend to the urgent ones is because they're yelling a little louder than the important ones. I don't want to lose the important ones in the volume difference. How will my wife remember me? Our kids? Our friends? Was my time spent on people or tasks that could have waited?

I've had a couple thoughts about this since this frustration's been hitting:

First was a quote I read Mark Buchanan's book "The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul By Restoring Sabbath". He asked the question, "If people stop to listen to you, to whom are you stopping to listen?" It's a great question simply because it reminded me of where the weight of my words come from. He went on to say, "Our speaking comes out to our listening. What we say comes out of what we hear. We have to be people who listen, day and night, to God." This was true of Jesus, who said he only would do what he saw the Father doing. I hope I could say the same of myself, but so often I'm not looking for what the Father is doing. I'm not listening to what the Father is saying. In a sea of noise, would I hear the Voice that created all voices. I must remember to slow down to listen.

The second thought came yesterday during church as we read from Mark 1:35, which says, "And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed." The word that stood out to me was desolate. As I set apart time to listen, there are distractions all around me. "Desolate" would not be the appropriate adjective to describe my times with God. I'm not saying the distractions are in and of themselves "bad things", but in that moment, they're not the best thing. I need to learn from Jesus' example to find a time in the day (for him it was very early in the morning) and in a setting that wouldn't offer distractions in order to listen and be with God. To be in silence. To confess my need. To beg for help. To thank him for all He's done, is doing, and will do. Perhaps it's in the desolate places that we'll find fullness.

"You who stalk the earth with new life" - Walter Brueggemann

Christ is Risen... He is risen indeed!

You Easter one

you who stalk the earth with new life,

you who soar the heavens with fresh governance,

you who traipse the seas with odd authority,

You life-giver,

You a strange anomaly among us,

for everywhere are signs of death:

...Benjamin taken in his youth,

our tax dollars at work in Serbia,

endless diagnoses among our friends,

people made redundant in all our euphemisms of "down-sizing,"

too much money and too little health care,

your church here and there nearly consumed with anxiety for itself.

And yet you appear here and there,

now and then:

You say "Fear not," and we are comforted,

You say "Peace I give you," and we are less restless,

You say "Go and sin no more," and we glimpse a new innocence,

you say and we listen,

you act and we are healed,

you... and us,

you and life,

you and newness,

you for us,

you with us,

you,

you,

you... and we are dazzled in our gratitude. Amen.

Tongues From Centuries Speaking Now

O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing (Charles Wesley, 1739)

1O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer's praise

The glories of my God and King, the triumphs of his grace

2Jesus! the name that charms our fears, that bids our sorrows cease

'Tis music in the sinners ears, 'tis life and health and peace

3He breaks the power of cancelled sin, he sets the prisoner free

His blood can make the foulest clean; his blood availed for me

4He speaks, and listening to his voice, new life the dead receive

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice, the humble poor believe

5My gracious Master and my God, assist me to proclaim

To spread through all earth abroad the honors of thy name

A thousand, a million, a trillion tongues (Walter Brueggemann, 1998)

O for a thousand tongues to sing

our great redeemer's name;

To sing beyond ourselves, extravagantly,

with abandonment,

beyond all our possibilities,

and all our fears,

and all our hopes...

to our redeemer dear, the antidote to our death,

the salve to our wounds,

the resolve of our destructiveness...

A thousand, a million, a trillion tongues,

more than our own,

more than our tradition,

more than our theology,

more than our understanding,

tongues around us,

tongues among us,

tongues from our silenced parts.

Tongues from us to you in freedom and in courage,

Finally ceding our lives and our loves to your good care. Amen.

Revise our taking - Walter Brueggemann

A Lenten prayer:

You, you giver!

You have given light and life to the world;

You have given freedom from Pharaoh to your people Israel;

You have given your only Son for the sake of the world;

You have given yourself to us;

You have given and forgiven,

and you remember our sins no more.

And we, in response, are takers:

We take eagerly what you give us;

we take from our neighbors near at hand as is acceptable;

we take from our unseen neighbors greedily and acquisitively;

we take from our weak neighbors thoughtlessly;

we take all that we can lay our hands on.

It dawns on us that our taking does not match your giving.

In this Lenten season revise our taking,

that it may be grateful and disciplined,

even as you give in ways generous and overwhelming.

Amen.

A Couple Shots At The Memorial With My New Cam

At the dawn - Walter Brueggemann

Our first glimpse of reality this day - everyday - is your fidelity.

We are dazzled by the ways you remain constant among us,

in season, out of season,

for better, for worse,

in sickness and in health.

You are there in watchfulness as we fall asleep;

You are there in alertness when we awaken...and we are glad.

Before the day ends, we will have occasion

to flag your absence in indifference...

but not now, not at the dawn.

Before the day ends, we will think more than once

that we need a better deal from you...

but not now, not at the dawn.

Before the day ends, we will look away from you and

relish our own fidelity and our virtue in mercy...

but not now, not at the dawn.

Now, at the dawn, our eyes are fixed on you in gladness.

We ask only that your faithfulness

permeate every troubled place we are able to name

that your mercy

move against the hurts to make new,

that your steadfastness

hold firmly what is too fragile on its own.

And we begin the day in joy, in hope, and in deep gladness. Amen.