Change
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I received a letter from an old friend today. Her health is not good, and I worry about her future. I don’t want things to change! Living on an island I have grown accustomed to change, difficult as that may be. The beach itself varies from day to day, widening and narrowing the places I walk, removing vegetation or depositing new seedlings. And yet I want to hold unto the known and the familiar, reluctant to release what I have come to love. O Lord, please help me see that change is the essence of our earthly lives. I need to appreciate with more open awareness the beauty of the moment so I can recall its absence with love and happiness. Forgive me for holding too fiercely to the past, blinding myself to the future joys prepared for me by you. I pray that you would open my clenched fists—may they be hands stretched wide to embrace each moment of my life—hands open to reach out for your hand. Amen.Related Post
Salt SpraySalt Spray
An eastern wind blew against my face as I walked on the beach today. My glasses quickly covered with salt spray and I couldn’t see the markers that usually determine the length of my walk. I was cold and huddled inside my jacket, trying to draw breath against the wind. And all the time I knew when I turned around and retraced my steps, that same wind would propel me home. What was once an adversary would become my propeller, making the walk easier and swifter. Thank you, God, for showing me that even in adversity I can take comfort in your presence. On the other side of every painful event there is the joy of your presence. May the crises of my life give me an opportunity to grown in faith and spirit. May I pass through hard times and emerge more swift and refreshed in my walk with you. Amen.
An eastern wind blew against my face as I walked on the beach today. My glasses quickly covered with salt spray and I couldn’t see the markers that usually determine the length of my walk. I was cold and huddled inside my jacket, trying to draw breath against the wind. And all the time I knew when I turned around and retraced my steps, that same wind would propel me home. What was once an adversary would become my propeller, making the walk easier and swifter. Thank you, God, for showing me that even in adversity I can take comfort in your presence. On the other side of every painful event there is the joy of your presence. May the crises of my life give me an opportunity to grown in faith and spirit. May I pass through hard times and emerge more swift and refreshed in my walk with you. Amen.
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.The One Presence We NeedThe One Presence We Need
Dear Heavenly Father, these are desperate times. When crises happen, we find solace and comfort in the presence of others—they hug and hold us, they remind us of their love and caring, they provide for us a tangible symbol of your presence. But now, that source of comfort has been denied. Not only is touch forbidden, but we’re not even able to find comfort in the mere presence of others.
The act of quarantine is nothing new; treatment of diseases through isolation was prevalent in Biblical times. Various diseases forced victims into a life apart from others: for instance leprosy, syphilis, and smallpox. Though no one else would touch these people, Jesus touched them. He went to them, sought them out, and healed them with his touch.
And now we too find ourselves separate, apart from one another. Forced to live lives with as little human contact as possible, we feel apart, drifting. So reliant on others are we that our fingers type out text messages and emails or dial phone numbers, all in an attempt to connect. It seems almost beyond belief that something as microscopic as this virus can have such an impact on the planet—that it can render impossible the very vaccination we seek—the touch of others.
What will we do with our time? Television is an endless repetition of the virus damage; after watching for a short time the number of people infected, the lives lost, the shredding of our stock system and governmental breakdown, we feel overwhelmed. Life is hopeless—to leave our doors, to touch others, to take the sacrament—all these are beyond our reach.
Where is our God in all of this turmoil? Why isn’t he here protecting his own? Making our lives easier? Why would He permit something as devastating as this to take place?
When Jesus went into the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, he asked repeatedly for his disciples to watch with him, to give him the comfort of their presence, to make him feel connected, not alone. But the text makes it quite clear; no matter how often or with such urgency Jesus asked for their nearness—they fell asleep. They failed him. Why is this scene so explicit? Because Jesus needed to face God alone—to confront him and ask for relief from what lay ahead, to ask his Father if he could be spared. But what would take place was in God’s hands, not the hands of Jesus. When given that realization, Jesus found peace. He rose from his prayer and began the sequence of events that would lead directly, in less than 24 hours, to his crucifixion.
These hours ahead of us, void of most human contact, force us into this same conversation. We are at the will of God, and he has given us the time and the opportunity to be in dialogue with him. We pray together as a congregation, but now is the time for personal prayer. Time to speak with God as Jesus did in the Garden, to ask for our safety and the safety of those we love, but to do so with the awareness of God’s power and presence. He promised his Son that he would bring ultimate good out of loss.
And we see this today—people sharing, medical staff putting their lives on hold in the interests of others, those who provide medications and gas and food and public safety—those who risk their lives so we may continue our lives with as little interference as possible. We are reminded of the goodness humans can draw upon in an emergency.
God has not died of the corona virus. He is not in quarantine. He is alive and well, waiting for us to draw closer, to read our Bibles for comfort and peace, to speak with him in personal honesty and intensity. Forget the rote prayers we can speak by heart, this is the opportunity for stark and revealing prayers that allow us to find him in a new way, to discover we can speak with God openly and without fear. “Lo, I am with you always, even until the end of time.” This is not the end of time, but this is a time when God is with us. Open your heart and pray—now is the time to that find his presence is the only presence we need.