God, Hear Our Prayers

Whatever happens,

Those who have learned to love one another

have made their way to the lasting world

and will not leave

Whatever happens.

Wendell Berry

God, Hear Our Prayer

Earth maker, Pain bearer, Life giver,

Hear our prayers

Turn our hearts to you

Have mercy upon us

Pull us closer under your wing

Fill us with a renewed certainty and trust in Your holy presence

Meet us wherever we are in this fragile and yet sacred season

Boost our courage and imagination to face the unknown

The vulnerability is real.

We feel it poignantly in our bodies and in our spirits

We have indeed been humbled, slowed down, frightened

Uncomfortably awakened to the reality that we are not in control here

In the holy pause, help us rely on the invisible fibers of faith designed by You to hold us together in the uncertainty

Help us put You back in command at our heart’s center

Speak clear, deep, and gentle words of hope into our souls

So we would remember again who You are and what You have promised us.

We are never alone.

You have us, whatever happens.

You are in charge of our today and our tomorrow

The days of our lives are written securely upon Your heart

Your Plan is in motion, where ultimately all will come together for good

Love will prevail

Can we be brave and trust You?

Now we must dig deeper, trust love, and make room for grace to do its redemptive work in and all around us.

A Hopeful Amen.

weekly_tip_for_souljoy

Reflect on Gerard Manley Hopkin’s poem of hope, God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
    It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
    It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
    And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
    And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
    There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
    Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
    World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
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