O Most Holy,
O Most Inspiring,
O Most Enlivening
Fount of Daily Renewal:

overflow abundantly upon our dust

that the stiff joints of our spirits
might leap
with joyful wonder,

that the bleary eyes of our hearts
might open
to recognize you,

that the dragging feet of our faith
might race
to your next revelation.

We drink you in with thirsty delight,
no longer numb to holiness,
no longer wary of life,
but renewed.

Clinging to Metaphors

We are underwater.
Let there be a Rock that is higher.

We are weary and worn.
Let there be a Peace beyond understanding.

We are frustrated, impatient.
Let there be a Seed in every season.

We are heartbroken.
Let there be a Fire to gather us together.

We are frantic, anxious, scattered.
Let there be a Plumb Line that remains steady.

For the sake of our salvation,
O Most Inscrutable God,
let there be metaphors.


Listen to the roar
of your people’s prayers,
O Holy Lamb,
as our spirits growl
with hunger for your healing.
Bend your woolly ear in sympathy
as these great egos of dust
mew for comfort.
We ask:
do not mind
our snarls or teeth,
for in deep pain and distress
we have become
in our woundedness,
we have stalked your grace
as though it’s the enemy.
O Lamb of God,
fold us
into your flock
in an answer to prayer.