Birdsong

Perhaps it is the birds, who paint their voices in the skies
that shows us where you are
When we look but cannot see.
When we listen but do not hear.

You are near, you are far.

Your love stretches the movement of their song.

Lent Week Six

"Prayer is not asking.  Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depths of our hearts."  Mother Teresa

Six weeks ago was Ash Wednesday.  The ashes are no longer buried under my fingernails.  Haven't been there in a while.  Gone are the days when Lent crawled by.  This year it sprinted.  It ran like something was chasing it...(maybe Donald Trump was after Lent, too).

I'm not sure if I've changed much since the Wednesday of six weeks ago.  Have you?  My mind races today, too.  Scattered and jumbled like the pieces of a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle.  Like those annoying puzzles where the majority of pieces are slightly different shades of ocean blue; it seems near impossible to ever find two that fit together, let alone 683.

What has this season done for me?  For us?  For our churches?  For our communities?  For our world?  Do we even really know....or care.....or really, and I mean, really pay attention?  It's fun and easy to see the tiny purple flowers budding on the trees.  Makes us feel happy and gitty as we put on shorts and sunglasses and kick Winter in the butt.  But are we really paying attention to what it all means for us?  Or....could mean for us?

We ask a lot of God.  I know I do anyway.  And then my mind goes all turbo speed while God just might be talking back.  Things-to-do....things I want-to-do....things I need-to-do....things I think-I-need-to-do.....blah blah blah....

Meanwhile, God, you sit here patiently.  Waiting, listening, sighing deeply, waiting for me to turn and look at you.  To stop and breathe you in.  For real.
I'm not asking anything of you. (I'm not saying it's not tempting to just ask because that's what I do most of the time anyway).  It's easier to ask - keeps me in charge of what I want and what I think I need.

So I'm not asking anything of you today, God.  I'm just trying to put my heart in your hands.

I'm just trying.... to shut up.....and put my heart in your hands.


 

A Prayer for Anyone, Anytime, Any Day

God,
Maker of Heaven & Earth,
Creator of my soul
Sculptor of my body.
Be with me now.
I am willing to listen,
But I may not be ready to respond.

(silence)

Forgive me.
Grant me peace.
Teach me love.
Show me compassion.
In mercy and in courage,
Bring me back to prayer again.

Amen.

Advent gift

I read my devotion this morning, not at my usual spot at the table, but on the couch in the glow of the Christmas tree.  (Partly because that was where I left my book last night.)  It has been especially hard this morning to turn off my brain, with the thoughts, joys, and frustrations of this incredibly busy week and month.  Like most people, especially this time of year, it is very difficult for me to shut my mind off the ever-flowing stream of life events and to-do's that seem to pour over and flood any attempt to quiet myself in prayer.

Yet, for some reason that I cannot explain, the words of the hymn "Spirit of the Living God" suddenly appeared randomly and unexpectedly this morning into that stream of busy and worried thought.  Who knows the last time I heard or sung that song in church.  And it's certainly not a Christmas hymn!  I'll take it though, not as an act of my scattered brain, but rather as a small Advent gift from the mystery of God.  Even when I try to create space for quiet and prayer, life creeps in and takes over.  And I let it.  Nine times out of ten.

But perhaps this morning I was freely given the tune and words to a favorite hymn as a gentle (or adamant?) reminder to pause...turn inward....and let the Spirit of the Living God fall afresh on me.

If only for a minute.

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. 
Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.
Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.
Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.  

Pieces

I have a bunch of pieces before me,
They are scattered and confused across the floor.
Some of their edges are slightly worn
And the bright reds and purples are a little bit faded.

There's a piece for just about everything
All the angles of my life.
And I want so badly to figure out
How to piece them together.

We talk a lot about what it is to be whole.
To know God.  To love God.  To be happy.
But do we even know what any of that means anymore?

The pieces still lie scattered on the floor.

And everything else in the world comes first.
Comes before we even start to try
To bring the pieces together.
To become whole.

We save it for another day.

Writing to God: Easter Sunday

2 Corinthians 1: 19-20
Mark 16: 1-8
"Amen"

Darkness covered the face of the Earth, O God, and you said "let there be light."
Yes.

Your people, just released from the chains of slavery, wandered in the cold, dark maze of wilderness, and you guided them at night by a pillar of fire.  You said, once again, "light."
Yes.

The world's darkness had become too heavy to bear.  And your star of light shone brightly in an ordinary town, to ordinary people, for more than ordinary purposes.  You said again, "let there be light."

Yes.

The day of death, despair, hopelessness, and loss is over.  For something amazing has occurred.  You said, one more time, "let there be light."

And Jesus became the Christ.  Life began anew.
Yes.

It is not a one time thing, my God, that you have done this extraordinary act.  You do not make a play and then leave the game.
Oh no.

The light of resurrection shines anew all the time.  Every day.  We cannot be blinded by our preconceived notions or our same ol' status quo ideas of living.

Jesus is Alive!

Thank you, God.
Help us to show this life - your life - in our words, our actions, and our prayers.  There is nothing that can extinguish your light.  For your light is love.

Yes.

I pray for the courage to live it every day.  For the goodness of your beloved world.
Yes!

Amen.

Writing to God: Day 33

Luke 19: 1-6
From God

If you were walking down my street today, Lord, would I scurry up a tree to see you?  Would I run inside and lock the door and pretend I wasn't home?

I pray that today
Is one of those days
That I'll remember to stop;

I'll be ready to greet you
In whatever way
You show up.

And I'll climb to the highest places
Just to see you.
Where ever you may be.

I'll make an effort,
In spite of my weaknesses
to see life from a different perspective.

Perhaps, then, I'll be more open to your love, your forgiveness, your invitation to come inside and sit with me.

I wonder how such a simple thing could change the way I live?

Amen.