Praying against Poison

Do not speak to me of healing
if you’ve not been poisoned by a snake.

Do not apologize to me for your sins
if you’re not prepared to mend the damage.

Do not sing to me of victory
if you’re sending others into battle.

Do not speak to me in flattery
if you’ve been troubling peace.

Do not preach to me of salvation
if you’ve piled upon my stumbling blocks.

Do not call me to imitate your wisdom
if you’ve not known the delight of foolishness.

Healing God,
make from the poison an antidote,
and from brokenness, build something new.

Peacemaking God,
grant in conflict the clarity to disarm,
and in chaos, anchor the heart firmly in love.

Saving God,
lift from catastrophe a story of witness,
and from presumption, rescue joy and wonder.

a prayer on the Revised Common Lectionary texts

Solomon’s Prayer

O God, our Creator and our Sovereign,
there is no God like you — not in heaven
and certainly not on earth — no other god
who keeps promises and is faithful in love.

Our lives are before you, day by day,
and our hearts are full of wonder
as they strive to know you presence
and to remain in your ways.

Promise that you will never leave us,
not in this generation or the next.
Promise that we will always be able to find you
when we pay attention to our lives and our neighbors.

Even though we can never know you completely,
in your love we ask you to know us always —
to hear our prayers, to recognize our needs, to care
when our nights are long with despair and our days with grief.

O God, our Hope and our Instigation,
we are not our own. We are your people
and we are your indwelling (however limited).
Judge us accordingly when we obscure your presence.

When we injure one another, when we break promises,
declare our sin and compel our reparation of injury.
When we make idols of ourselves, of wealth, of success,
of the created world or even of faith, have mercy on those we harm.

Let your name be glorified by our reflection of you, not sullied.
Let foreigners and enemies know of your goodness by the ways
you dwell in and between us, and let us likewise recognize you
in them, so that we might not be foreigners or enemies anymore.

No people, no faith tradition, no house of worship
can contain you, O Most High, but let us make way for you
so that our egos and evils and insecurities do not discourage
your cause in heaven and on earth or your faithfulness to your promises.

By your mercy we will follow your paths;
by your grace we will keep your laws in love;
by your name we will dedicate ourselves to one another;
on earth by day and night, and in heaven when time is no more.


on 1 Kings 8; cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals

Sunday Prayer

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
as the mother hen loves her chicks,
as the bread loves to nourish the hungry.

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
for love is your essence and character,
hospitality and creativity are your way of being.

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
though our faithfulness is fickle
and our compassion suffers from impatience.

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
with tenderness when our hearts are broken,
with righteous rage when our ways are destructive.

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
through the terrors of the night
and into the dawn of hope.

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
and our tongues will be loose with praise
like rocks that have found their voice.

Be pleased to love us, O God our God,
until all life is love,
until all wisdom is peace.


cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals


David’s anger erupted when he heard the tale, “As the LORD lives,” he swore to Nathan, “the rich man who took his poor neighbor’s only lamb should die; he must restore the lamb fourfold because of what he did.” (2 Samuel 12:5-6)

David sinned against Uriah,
and Bathsheba suffered —
the assault on her body, the
humiliation of their marriage,
the death of a child. Tell me, O Just One:
when will Bathsheba’s loss be restored fourfold?

People sin against one another,
and those at the borders suffer —
the strain of codeswitching to navigate
safe passage, the walls of spirit and nation
that insult wayfarers and refugees, the death
of separation and criminalization. Tell me, O Just One,
when will the border-crossers and the marginalized be restored fourfold?

Fourfold — not forgiveness.
Fourfold — not fragile tears.
Fourfold — not false apologies.
Fourfold — not food that perishes.
Fourfold — not gaslighting reversals.


Where, O Just One,
is the brick to rebuild the bulldozed home,
the insurance to sustain healing after trauma,
the sacrificed wealth to invest in polluted communities?
Where, O Just One,
is the king who surrenders his throne,
the rich man who gives up his bank account,
the suburb that gives up its segregated school district?

Must those who have been harmed
by the sin and selfishness of others
be content to beg heaven for manna?

Fourfold, O Just One.
Even David in his sin measured justice to be fourfold.
Will you bring about any less?

a prayer on this Sunday’s RCL texts;
cross-posted at RevGalBlogPals


I would like, at least,
a roll of bread,
a flaky croissant,
a donut with a cup of coffee.

I would like, at least,
a tote bag,
a wallet with cash,
car keys if I need to change direction.

I would like, at least,
a clean shirt,
a change of clothes,
some comfy sweats & a pillow.

I would like, at least,
to be ready,
to have my supplies,
to know the landscape ahead of me.

Please don’t laugh, God.
I would like, at least,
to know what will be available
along this way, in case You are not.

on Mark 6:7-9