Lent 30

Be glorified by the praises of your people, O God Most Holy:

Call to the east, to the west, to the north and the south!
Call to the ends of the earth for God’s name to be lifted up!

God above all the gods
Foundation for all lovingkindness
Center of the orbits of galaxies

Proclaim to the east, to the west, to the north and the south!
Proclaim to the ends of the earth that God has done it!

Rainmaker in seasons of drought
Laughter in every friendship
Nursing Breast to the hungry and the orphan

Call to the east, to the west, to the north and the south!
Call to the ends of the earth for God’s kingdom to take on flesh!

Mountain Guide to those lost and foraging
Healing Touch to those on battlefields
Sunlight to the plants’ yearning branches

Be gratified by our lives given over to your praise,
O God of our salvation!

Lent 29

“A Prayer from Sarah and Hannah and Elizabeth and…”

O God, I come to you with my barrenness,
asking for new life beyond my imagining.
I wanted to give birth, but I cannot.
I wanted to be celebrated, but I am not.
I wanted to contribute, but my body is limited.
See, I am here in your temple
to make sure that you hear me.
I will not relent until you respond,
until you reveal another use for my body,
my life.
I will come to you day after day
until you open a new door.
O God my God,
what options do I have?
Am I dead because I am barren?
See how others are making a way for themselves,
but I have no way.
Look around and see
how those who sow and plant and harvest
are valued for their gifts to the community,
but my fields lie fallow and dry.
I have no place to call my own
just this square of floor in the temple
to lay out my pleas.
God of my mother and my mother’s mother,
bless me with unexpected life, I pray.
To your glory.

Fifth Sunday in Lent

I pray with these hands:
for the humility to remain open, unclenched;
for the gentleness to touch and care.
I pray with these hands cupped,
longing for a blessing.
I pray with my hands clasped,
fingers overlapping:
may they have something to hold onto.
I pray with my hands dirty from the day,
gratified but tired from the work,
asking for renewal.
I pray because my hands are at a loss,
fingers wide in uncertainty.
I fold my hands and pray
for the Word Made Flesh
to be holy in this flesh,
in these hands.

Lent 28

“Praise in haiku, on Psalm 51”

I trust in the dawn
to say “God lets you restart.”
Praise the Morning Star.

Create in me a clean heart, O God.

I trust the fresh air
to feel the Spirit within.
Praise the Holy Wind.

Put a new and steadfast spirit within me.

I trust the spring buds
to stir my sense of oneness.
Praise the Mystery.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation.

I trust the mountain
to turn my heart to silence.
Praise the Restful Word.

Sustain in me a generous spirit.

Lent 27

When the light of this day is done,
can I be with you in the darkness?
Will you hold my hand through the darkest valley?

When I sit and observe the long shadow of the cross,
can you keep me company?
Will you watch with me while I consider death?

When my breath at last expires,
and nothing can prepare me for it I am sure,
will you send your Spirit to give me a new kind of breath?

Jesus, you spoke boldly in the face of death;
can you forgive me if I am not brave in that moment?
Will you promise that I can be with you on the other side?

I don’t need fancy words of salvation
or misplaced sentiments about God’s will;
I just need someone to be there
because I will be scared—
scared of what’s ahead,
scared of what I’m leaving behind.

When I tremble before death, today or tomorrow,
can you stay with me?
Will you promise not to leave me?