Sunday AM Prayer April 21, 2024

Merciful God,

You know me – like, all of me. And on some days, that gives me deep pause. Fearful and awful pause. Which is about right, as I try to imagine just what kind of a God can create and love the whole universe, including me. Of course I’m not worthy of it and of course I can’t really imagine it, because you are God and I am not and wow, that is a critical thing! Thank you. Because you made me just who I am. And even when I swear I can’t hear your voice or that I am all alone, you send Jesus to remind me that I’m not here to do it on my own or save anyone. Thank you, God. So give me the capacity for big, deep breaths today so I can clear out my head and heart and unto my ears and hear your son call out to me. Loud and clear. Like no other. Because his voice in my life is unmistakeable. Just as it is for so many others who you call to. Even my grumpiest people who cause me trouble or angst. The voice of Jesus is clarion clear even to my enemies. Your love is faithful. Constant. But it doesn’t run me down or grasp at me or trick me, because then I’d just scatter with the rest of us spooked by some needy God. No, you call out to me with love in your voice. Patience. Mercy. Love. Even when you know the whole of me, that I will leave you. That my faith comes in fits and starts. That my love is so, well, conditional. Ugh. So fill me with your love, so that I remember the clear sound of your voice. You are not calling to scold or to shame, but to call me back into your fold. Again and again. Thanks for not giving up on me.

So help me love the people I’m called to love and serve with in this call, this life. To see them as fellow imperfect humans trying to respond in the freedom you’ve given each of us. The freedom to love you and to love each other. I mean, what a gift it is. And just what if we lived like we believed it!? Imagine the world…but I suppose you do that already. You know what it looks like when your love breaks in. Help me soften the ground for that kind of breaking in of my own heart, in my own life. Actually, you’ll need to soften that ground. Help me to love those closest to me well and to be forgiven when I do not love well. Amen.

Take a deep breath, dear deacon, dear pastor, dear chaplain. For your labor in the Lord is not in vain.