Across the Bay
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The fog has lifted. At night I can see across to the mainland, where house lights, buoys, and headlights shine. It seems so busy and energized over there across the bay’s water, but there must be those who sit at home tonight alone, looking into the darkness. Inside their windows they may live in need—need of food and money, of self-worth, need of God’s presence. Perhaps they are hungry or abused; perhaps they look out of eyes that are tear-filled. It is too easy for me to look into windows as if they were mirrors, seeing only myself reflected back, seeing no one else. I pray for these people too, for all those who have no understanding of your love or your presence. Be with them, I pray, and grant them your peace. May I use the bounty you have given me for their good and your glory. Amen.Related Post
Finding a FeatherFinding a Feather
Today on my beach walk, I came across a feather. It lay in the sand, perfect in shape, a swift, arching curve. I picked it up, running my fingers over its simple complexity. I wonder if the owner knew of the feather’s loss, or if it simply fluttered down as the bird soared overhead in search of food. Perhaps it was scarcely acknowledged as it went missing. I turned around to see my footprints in the sand; I wonder now what I leave behind me, what traces do others come across. Is what I leave behind beautiful or sordid? I wonder, dear Father, if others can see you in my footprints. Do I leave behind a message of hope, of encouragement, of love? What words have my lips last spoken? Where did my feet last visit? What message did my hands last shape? Does my path seem strewn with careless and selfish refuse, with ugly words, with mean spirited thoughtlessness? O please help me, Heavenly Father, to walk in your path, to leave behind in my wake all that testifies I share my path with you.
Today on my beach walk, I came across a feather. It lay in the sand, perfect in shape, a swift, arching curve. I picked it up, running my fingers over its simple complexity. I wonder if the owner knew of the feather’s loss, or if it simply fluttered down as the bird soared overhead in search of food. Perhaps it was scarcely acknowledged as it went missing. I turned around to see my footprints in the sand; I wonder now what I leave behind me, what traces do others come across. Is what I leave behind beautiful or sordid? I wonder, dear Father, if others can see you in my footprints. Do I leave behind a message of hope, of encouragement, of love? What words have my lips last spoken? Where did my feet last visit? What message did my hands last shape? Does my path seem strewn with careless and selfish refuse, with ugly words, with mean spirited thoughtlessness? O please help me, Heavenly Father, to walk in your path, to leave behind in my wake all that testifies I share my path with you.
Controlled BurnControlled Burn
There is a controlled burn on the mainland. Acrid smoke hangs heavy in the air; its path covers everything and blurs my vision. We’re told the burn is necessary because it destroys underbrush that catches fire far too easily, quick fuel for blazes than can then be controlled only with great effort and expense. I have “underbrush” in my life as well—negative thoughts I’ve let accumulate. Unless I ‘control burn’ them, they are fuel for fires that destroy my right relationship with God, with others. They lie on the dry forest floor of my mind, fueled by thoughts that are critical, judgmental, hypercritical. Only a spark of anger can set them ablaze so easily, but putting them out is difficult. Please, dear Lord, help me burn away this debris so my relationship with you can be lush, green, and free of destructive negativity. May the air I breathe, may the breezes that blow through my mind, flow freshly through the breath of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
There is a controlled burn on the mainland. Acrid smoke hangs heavy in the air; its path covers everything and blurs my vision. We’re told the burn is necessary because it destroys underbrush that catches fire far too easily, quick fuel for blazes than can then be controlled only with great effort and expense. I have “underbrush” in my life as well—negative thoughts I’ve let accumulate. Unless I ‘control burn’ them, they are fuel for fires that destroy my right relationship with God, with others. They lie on the dry forest floor of my mind, fueled by thoughts that are critical, judgmental, hypercritical. Only a spark of anger can set them ablaze so easily, but putting them out is difficult. Please, dear Lord, help me burn away this debris so my relationship with you can be lush, green, and free of destructive negativity. May the air I breathe, may the breezes that blow through my mind, flow freshly through the breath of the Holy Spirit. Amen.After Easter PrayerAfter Easter Prayer
An After-Easter Prayer
“Behind him [John] came Simon Peter, and he went straight into the tomb. He saw the linen cloths lying there, and the cloth which had been around Jesus’ head. It was not lying with the linen cloths but was rolled up by itself” John 20:6-7
Dear Lord, I’ve always wondered about this detail in the Easter story. John describes the cloths so carefully, as if they have significance. What if the new year begins the day after Easter? Jesus went through abuse, torture, and crucifixion for my sake, because He valued me highly. Why? Why go through all that agony for me? Having learned of His sacrifice, what’s expected of me? How am I supposed to live my life Post-Easter?
The period following Easter is the perfect time to self-examine, determine the issues and problems that trouble my life. There are weaknesses requiring treatment, behavior I need to cast off. Those discarded funeral wraps Jesus left behind are a symbol of sins in my life, sins making my life tattered and soiled. As an example, forgiveness is difficult for me; I claim I’ve forgiven individuals, but again and again I focus on their behavior and become angry once more. It’s not only others I can’t forgive, Lord. I accept your forgiveness, I try to convince myself you’ve washed me clean, but things I’ve done still trouble me, making me ashamed. I need to take off that wrapping of guilt and hardness of heart—leave it behind and work to forgive myself and others.
We’re told to love; love is the most emphasized gift of the Holy Spirit. I know this and yet I love like a miser, carefully weighing slights, balancing my love against the love I receive. I accept the endless love you have for me, Dear Lord, but I distribute love as though it’s a finite amount, against your infinite love. My failure to love with abandon is another layer of torn wrapping that needs removal, cast off and left behind in an empty tomb.
Judge not, we’re told, but my judgment is immediate and stern. How easy to win my approval—do what I do, think as I do, and behave as I prescribe. For ‘the other’, those who don’t behave as I like, my judgment falls hammer-like. I understand in my heart it’s wrong to be self-righteous, but breaking away from old habits is difficult. This too, Lord, needs to change. I want to accept others without assessing their ‘value’ to me. Help me strip away my soiled coat of judgment, leave it behind, old and out-dated.
I know, Lord, change will be difficult. How can I battle these old, familiar sins and become the resurrected woman you want me to be? Please lend me that linen cloth, a cloth that covered your face, a cloth so carefully folded and set aside. Let me use that cloth to cleanse, to give me a clean purpose once I’ve discarded those raggedy clothes. Only with your help, Lord, can I dress myself in a new Easter outfit, clad in your gift of redemption and grace. With your help I leave behind the tomb rags of the past and move into new life.