To walk with you, O Christ, is less
poetry than perseverance. We wish
that there was not such mystery
to this journey, that somehow each
step might build our path concretely
rather than fading immediately in
shifting sand and swelling tide.
We forget where we’ve been. We
do not understand where we’re going.
We fail to see you where we are.
Perhaps we could endure through
the uncertainty and complexity if
it were ours alone, but the whole world
is amiss: the vanished footsteps of
234 Nigerian girls; the lost footprints
overwhelmed by sea and those
overtaken by mudslide; the fading steps
of loved ones as our paths diverge yet again.
We are neither as permanent nor
as strong as we think we are.
Tell us again that you love us.
Invite us again to linger over broken bread,
poured wine. Save us, sweet Jesus.
Correct our hubris and comfort our fears
with the reminder that your light — your call —
within us is the substance of our impact
upon one another in this world,
not so much our footprints
in any one place or along
any one road. So convince us,
we pray, to turn aside and rest;
open our eyes and change our course,
so that you are known in all and through all.
By your grace, O Christ. To God’s glory.
Amen.
A pastoral prayer on the Revised Common and Narrative Lectionary texts.