leadinginworship

The God Who Calls

You are the God who calls.
You are hiding in the pauses of the winter wind
whipping around the corners of my house.
You are present in the space between the opening petals
of the first spring crocus.
You are there in the silence behind
the crickets chirping on the hot summer evening.
You are in the autumn aching for what’s been lost
when all is fallen.
You call to us from the other side of Eden,
your voice emanating from deserts, dreams,
whirlwinds and burning bushes.
And always on the mountaintop we find you;
in wide vistas and clear air,
whispering to us as we look down on all we know.

I want you to be the God who calls me.
Here hear my late night late life lament.
I’ve missed the train for glory 
too many times to count,
a no-show in the parade of saints,
absent without cause in the angel army.
I’m here today to say, “I want to hear,
help my unhearing.”
Let the words of my mouth
speak out the meditations of your heart,
truly, clearly, faithfully,
today and always.

 

 

Prayer for the Future

All-seeing God,
hear my prayer for the future that I will not see.
For all the children of my children's grandchildren,
and all the others born when this century
is a long ago memory.
Let their feet touch this good earth,
let it still be good, growing green as it always grows.
Let their hands be reaching to connect,
not grasping, not fighting.
I want to pray that we would be beyond all that,
but I think that's asking for too much.
Instead, I pray for what we have survived.
The upheavals I cannot imagine or name,
the suffering that is beyond speaking.
I pray that we could still be good,
still loving in the face of hatred,
still hoping in the face of despair,
I pray that we would be skilled at beginning again
even when it seems like the end of everything.
For you are with us.
Time can't stop you from loving us.
Your everpresent ear takes this tiny message,
and transports it forward through the years.
My dear future friends:
Believe. Love. Cherish.
Look up at the distant stars 
and say prayers for the future.
We pray together, you and I,
that hope will arrive in time.

Social Fabric Prayer

The transgender man beaten,
and the woman harassed on the bus.
The disabled student not accommodated,
and the bomb threat at the Jewish child-care centre.
Racial profiling at the border
and another refugee told to go home.
A million tiny teeth
ripping at the webs that connect us,
fissures fracturing the social fabric.
Reading the news my heart feels tattered,
and all that’s good seems lost
and left behind.

Can we defend, say, “Not here!" to hatred,
hold firm to every last strand of civility?
We are not over and done with.
Threads of mercy shuttle between us
and even when we feel like running,
we are being woven, a work in progress.
For every breaking thread,
a new wisp, strong as spider web.

On a night like this,
when darkness looms
and every light seems small,
I stitch a prayer into the night sky.
God of all graces, rip every seam
I’ve sown in hatred.
I want to be stranded in love,
reaching out to touch,
in this material world,
the hem of your garment. 

A New Year prayer of thanks

For every closed mind

that has creaked open just a crack;

For every call to arms

that was not heeded;

For every homemade bomb

that was not left in the shopping mall;

For every generous gift

that made the difference between life and death;

For every time past mistakes

have given us pause;

For every estranged family member

who took a deep breath and went home;

For every sudden decision

to say the encouraging word after all;

For every small action taken

to heal our harms to Mother Earth;

For every time someone actually went back

and said thank you thank you

to one who made a difference in their life;

these things rest on our mind at the end of the year.

God of every blessing, for your protection

and all the good of this past year,

accept our heartfelt and humble thanks,

scraps falling from the feast of love.

Prayer for the Scientific Method

Thank you for human ingenuity, God,

for our ability to think and reason

and figure things out.

On this landmark day when a vaccine

to prevent the spread of ebola is announced,

I give thanks for science researchers everywhere.

Thank you for people who toil away

year after year in laboratories,

hypothesizing and testing,

and re-hypothesizing and re-testing.

The result is a world largely free from small-pox,

free from epidemics of polio,

free from the scourge of mumps, measles, tetanus,

and scores more diseases.

Thank you for countries rich enough

to devote money to universal health-care,

and for the doctors and nurses

who give and track vaccines.

In a world where some of our worst enemies

are unseen to the naked eye,

I give thanks for the long lifespan

afforded in this time and this place.

God of hope, we ask that an HIV vaccine

could be found this year.

You know each of the 25 million people lost to AIDS

in the last thirty-five years…

thank you for equipping researchers

with perseverance, insight

and the resources they need to do their work.

 

A Prayer for Family Gatherings

Jesus, you grew up in a family

that did not always understand,

who questioned you and no doubt squabbled;

hear our prayer for family gatherings this year.

Thank you for families that get along,

showing unconditional love and support:

families that are flexible and adaptive,

that can stand any storm.

Bless all who are travelling to gatherings

that they can’t wait to get to.

And then there are other families,

where tension, suspicion and judgement

vie for power with love and acceptance.

Sentences begin with “You always…”

“I never…” and “Not this again….”

Bless those who are travelling to gatherings

with shields up, heads down,

not sure if they will find a home at all.

And then there are those who are not travelling:

they can’t afford the expense,

or there is no home to go to,

or home is so toxic it’s healthier to stay away.

Bless those who are working to create

new networks of caring and support.

God of hope, send angels down this year

to give good tidings of great joy

right in the midst of real-world family dynamics;

the good, the sad, and the ugly.

Let us be these messengers of hope,

improbable emissaries of a newborn king,

astounded witnesses

to family Christmas miracles.

 

All I Want for Christmas: A Prayer List as I Go to the Mall

This Christmas I would like…

the clear conviction

that beauty is for beholding

and that I don’t have to own

everything that gives me pleasure.

I want to have joy in gift-giving,

seeking to delight those I love.

I would like protection from over purchasing:

and reminders that more gifts

don’t always bring more delight.

I would like contentment this year,

and freedom from envy as I look at things

that I cannot afford to buy.

I would like mindfulness for Christmas,

so that as I shop I can be present to those I meet.

In busy, bustling, boisterous aisles,

I want the ability to touch people gently

with my eyes, not my elbows.

Please give me kind words

to share with store employees

who are often overworked and underpaid.

I would like lots of perspective this year,

to know how fortunate I am,

and also heaps of mercy for those who are less fortunate.

If it’s not too much trouble,

can you give me a sign, maybe a star, this year

that would orient me to the search I’m really on,

the search for a treasure,

something for a wise woman to carry

as she journeys to the birth

of a newborn Saviour.

A prayer for those contemplating suicide

For each of your beloved children
who this night are poised to take their own life,
we pray this prayer.
For those plagued by despair,
for those haunted by hopelessness,
for those immersed in mind-numbing pain,
for those confused by bewildering delusions,
for those mired in violent memories,
for those pushed to the edge by grief,
for those bullied because of their sexuality,
for those overwhelmed by stress or financial pressures,
for those caught fast in chains of addiction,
for those feeling unwanted and unloved,
for those who can love everyone but themselves,
for those who feel that the world would be better off without them,
Creator of us all, hear our prayer.
Send your rainbow of hope
arching over these dark moments.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet;
thousands of angels of every hue
surrounding and supporting each dear one
tenderly, lovingly,
away from the brink.
Your presence a bridge to one more day.

The Quietest of Hopes

Every journey ends,
and this prayer is for our friends
who know their lives are waning.
Friend of the dark garden,
you know the regrets,
the reluctance, the gloomy fears
that shake our very souls.
Anxiety about our bodies’ demise
consumes us,
Thank you that even
as we feel most desolate,
your comfort finds us.
We do not kneel alone.
Your deep love wells in parched hearts,
flooding us with simple beauty
at unexpected moments.
You send us angels,
disguised and undisguised;
courage blossoms in the night.
Thank you for bands of companions
whose prayers sustain us.
We pray for those who hover in the tension
of a life that is both
unbearably sweet
and sheddable.
At the end,
let our fingers be petals,
letting go, bit by bit,
our mortal life.
Our empty hands blooming;
open, ready,
trembling with
the quietest of hopes.
Come Lord Jesus.

Prayer for the Road Ahead

I seek you, God, in the spaces of my life.
The spaces between what I’ve done
and what I’ve left undone.
The spaces between my convictions
and my actions,
the spaces between all that I hoped to do,
and what I’ve actually done.
I come with humility,
knowing that I can’t always see
the way I’ve disappointed you,
nor can I always see
the long-term effects of the good I’ve done.
This is a prayer for the road ahead,
which is an empty space stretching before me.
Fill me with a burning compassion
for my brothers and sisters,
a love that will not let me go.
Give me courage to to give boldly,
love simply,
hope deeply,
risk greatly.
My light is small,
my time is short,
but let it shine for you,
always, ever, all for you.
Amen.

A fruitful day

God, let this be a fruitful day!
Open our eyes to beauty.
Tune our ears to harmony.
The fragrance of your love
permeating every moment.
The touch of your hand
guiding all we do.
Tasting the delight of your presence
in the sweet ripeness of joy.

Prayer of the Unemployed

In the wrench of job loss, we fall at your feet, Lord Jesus.
Occupation and income all suddenly thrown aside,
our life’s apple cart overturned.
Uncertainty is thrust upon us,
not-knowing haunting our waking hours,
anxiety our companion all night long.

Jesus stand among us.
Look in our eyes with love,
assuring us that we are loved just as we are,
even as people without jobs.
Grasp us by the shoulders,
giving us confidence for the job search ahead.
Shake us awake
when we feel like lying down and sleeping forever.
Whisper words of identity in our ears
when we wonder who we are.
God of the unknown journey and the twisting path,
be our guide in this time of grief and change.
Enlighten us to the work you would have us do.
Keep our eyes focused on the employment that never ends,
the work we do for your kingdom, 
trusting that you will provide for our needs.

Kindred Spirits

Thank you God for the quick connection,
for the interest in another’s eyes
and sympathy that is not forced.
Thank you for simultaneous laughter
and a quiet moment,
for interests that connect,
and the spontaneous invitation, “We should…”
and the quick reply of “Let’s”.
Thank you for the light giddiness that comes
from encountering a kindred spirit.
In a world where friends seem few and far between,
God of friends,
thank you for finding me new friends
on the long journey.

Psalm for those living with mental illness

Oh God, you are my God!  I seek you!
I am feeling heavy and tired,
I am troubled and empty.
From this place of pain I cry out to you!
I have never felt so sad,
I am totally overwhelmed,
I am facing despair.
People around me say,
“You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
They say I lack faith,
they are irritated with me and say,
“Pull yourself together!”
I hear the other voices of people saying
“Stupid, idiot, dumb, birdbrain.”

I call out to you because nobody else understands me,
nobody cares for me but you.
I can’t move, I feel paralyzed.  
I need your help!
If I don’t receive your help,
I have no reason to live. 
I can’t go on living like this.

Oh, you are my God, you are with me!
You hold me, you encourage me,
you are the one who is there for me at rock bottom.
Jesus weeps in the garden with me.
Jesus knows what it is like to feel forsaken.
My God is mighty to save,
God touches me and makes me whole.

Were you there for me?
Yes, you were! 
You say to me,
“Come unto me all you who labour and are heavy-laden,
and I will give you rest.”
You have plans for me,
plans for good and not for evil.
You give me a hope and purpose.
I will always praise you,
for you are my God,
my Rock and my Redeemer.

[I help to run a peer support group for people with mood disorders. This Psalm came out of an exercise we did together, everyone in the group helped to write this psalm.]

Psalm for Silence

I crave silence like water.
In this noisy non-stop fast-paced high-powered
injection-fuelled people-filled emotion-packed
day, I say,
“I crave silence like water.”
Drop, drop, drop
into my soul, soul, soul.
I will listen for the drip and the echo.
I will look, look, look
for the dropper of silence
and wait, wait, wait to be filled.

Silence expands noiselessly.
It blossoms unexpectedly,
beautifully, completely,
and it doesn’t leave when you open your eyes.
Silence is companionable,
it likes your company,
and wants you to stick around.
Silence is the long-term friend of pause,
and is acquainted with catch-your-breath.
Close cousins with sleep.
Wait’s uncle.
Silence swoops over the world,
its wings brush our hair.

Silence outdistances all takers.
In the vast reaches of space,
supernovas explode in silence.
Silence seeps into the world
through the night sky.
I open my mouth
as round as the moon
and breathe in silence.

Celebrate: A Poem for Survivors of Mental Illness

On the long journey,
where many steps are required each day,
there comes a time to pause and look back,
to join with a companion and say, “There!
Those steps have been completed, they’re done.
I’ve come this far.”
Or if no companion is there,
to stand alone and whisper, with clear eyes,
“I’ve done this, I’ve made this journey.”

The journey with mental illness
has milestones seldom marked except by those who walk there…
a day where I continued to live,
a week where I managed to take my medication,
a month since the last episode,
a year since I was in the hospital,
a decade since I began living with this disability.

I have made this journey,
I have moved in darkness and lived to see the day.
I have been swept up in the whirlwind and survived.
I have been lost and found my way.
I have wept and my tears have turned to peace.
I have been abandoned and found my own strength.
I have called on God in despair and found faithfulness.

I can celebrate this, this moving towards healing.
And if I walk this road again, God help me,
I will turn and help a fellow traveller,
“You can do this.  I have done this.  We can do this together.”

Spring Cleaning Prayer of Confession

Here’s a prayer for the corners of our lives
messy with yesterday’s business.
There’s the guilt about what was thrown in the garbage,
the regret about spending too much on extra things,
the time that was frittered away agonizing about details,
the energy wasted on trying to meet someone else’s standards.
Our memories are cobwebbed over with regret
of how it could have been different:
it could have been more responsible, more selfless,
more organized, more healthy, more something.
Even now, looking forward, there’s the sinking feeling
that bulldozers will not be able to clean up the mess we'll make.

We need you like a woman cleaning in May,
opening windows, pulling down dusty drapes,
chairs and rugs dragged out onto the lawn.
Every surface of our lives open and revealed
scoured by soap and spring winds.
The Spirit at work,
hope and new directions moved in like furniture.
Create in us clean corners, Lord,
ordered, uncluttered, functional.
Minds clarified, set to rights,
filled with the freshness of new beginnings.

Prayer for a Friend Not Seen

God who sees the heart of things,

who sees my heart,

you know the love still lodged

for friends long absent.

Once, long past,

we found a home

in each other’s presence.

A genuine meeting then

a parting of ways,

the currents of life and time

drifting us to separate worlds.

God whose sight unites all souls

hear my prayer for my old friend,

a blessing of love abundant

and life richly lived.

Perhaps a meeting in the end

where eyes recognize time’s passage on our faces

and our voices tell the stories of our hearts.

Praying on a Windy Day

On this wind-swept day

my prayer is a kite

rising from outstretched arms

stringing taut and fast

up with sailing clouds

up with soaring hawks

my kite swoops

in the high blue

writing thank-you

thank-you.

A God who Grieves

When I am beside myself with grief--

Jesus, you are there beside me.

When my mind reels and I feel like I’m falling—

Jesus, you are the fixed point that does not move.

When grief’s bands tighten around my chest—

Jesus, you are the oxygen I breathe.

When the ache in my heart is the only thing I feel—

Jesus, save me.

You who wept with sorrow and with fear,

thank you for staying with me in this hour,

this hour of grief.