A Prayer of Confession and Cleansing

Abba, on days like these when nothing particularly profound seems to stir within, I thank you that you are still near. The lack of insight is often the consequence of my sin: my ignorance, laziness, and often pure disobedience. Forgive me. Teach to to thirst for You and to hunger for Your words. I want to know the security of Your presence and fear Your absence. I want to run to You and not from You. You know my heart, my fears, and dreams; cleanse me and refine my passions. May I die so that You may live in me. Honor the words of this prayer, not just in me but in all those who read it. Thank You for Your immense grace and over-flowing mercy, O how I need it so. Amen

The Heavens Declare His Glory, a prayer

Abba,

The heavens declare Your glory.

But what am I?

Do You even think of me?

Why are You mindful of us at all?

And yet You say we matter. I look into the sky and see endless stars, its a joke to even try to count them and I'm reminded in the laughter that they represent your blessings. This sounds nice but even when my life seems so small in comparison with the heavens, my problems and the problems of those I love seem colossal. Why does this distortion of perspective thrive in our hearts?

Maybe, just maybe, it is no distortion. Maybe our fears and pain are as big as creation in Your eyes too. They shouldn't be but I am beginning to believe they are. You have said that Your thoughts and ways are higher than the heavens are from the earth, intrinsically different from all my expectations. And when I pull myself away from the isolated religious speak that says everything will be alright, I find a God big enough to handle my anger. A God so big and yet so intimate. 

Tonight, I have no clue how to pray. I just can't ask for this and that and go on my way, I need to know You care, that You are as close and as strong as You've promised to be. 

Do I dare be noble now?

I remember when all seemed lost not long ago, when every door slammed in my face except for the love I found in the Pierce women, my family. And in their love, their stories, their prayers, their cooking, I found a home and peace. Now life has led me away from that home and I am afraid that I will never again taste the sweetness of those days. And the truth is I never will, that is why it is so special and why it hurts to even consider losing any of it. But maybe You have another door waiting for me, and this time I know it will be more painful but it will lead me home.

So, lead me, lead us home. 

Amen

Empty Together

I wanted to share what my dear friend  (and house-mate) Cliff had to share with our local congregation out here in Denver. I resonate with his feeling of emptiness and need for community.

I sat in front of my blank computer screen for about two hours searching myself for something of value to offer. My mind wandered about to other stresses taking place elsewhere in my life. The longer I sat, fewer ideas came to mind. What seemed to be such a simple task slowly became more and more daunting with each scattered thought. Why was it that I couldn’t find something to share with my community? Something encouraging. Something uplifting.  Something… spiritual.

I was spiritually dry. I am spiritually dry.

I remember hearing Eugene’s message on hoarding both the good and bad. That I can relate to. Sure there are things in my life taking up my time that aren’t good wholesome things, but most of what I give my time to are good things. They really are. Work, Church, my music, my friends, all quality time well spent. The simple fact is, rarely do I just sit with the Father. Rarely do I spend time sitting in the presence of God soaking him in for all he’s worth.

It was through community, through relationship that I was able to verbally process the stuff in my life and become aware of my spiritual drought. I believe it will only be through community and relationship that I heal. Growing up in the South, attending a Baptist church as all good Southerners do, I’ve never participated in Lent. This being my first Lenten season as a participant, I’m anxious to set out on this journey of rediscovering God. I wouldn’t dare begin this journey alone. Come with me?  

Thank God for friends like Cliff how do not remain silent in their struggles but through their honesty offer hope. I think many of us could sign our names to the bottom of this, filling our time with seemingly good things all the while leaving no room for the Good Thing. As I have taken a break from some of the filler this season, God has led me to a place of emptiness, a state of poverty. This is indeed a good thing; Eugen Peterson has this to say, ‎"Only when we stand emptied, stand impoverished before God can we receive what only empty hands can receive."

Abba, lead me and my brother Cliff into this abundant life in you. Lead us not only together but with all your children. Lord, make this world right, starting in my heart. Feed us, forgive us, and keep us safe. Grant us the guts to be empty and to be ok with it all. Be our God and help us to be your people. Amen 

Big Shoulders

What does it mean to grow up? I often ask myself this question. As I probe my heart and mind, to this one word I keep returning: responsibility. As a child I had little responsibility outside of a few chores that I always undertook begrudgingly. Then, if I didn't finish unloading the dishwasher, the worse consequence would be a spanking; now, I don't have anything of which to eat off.  When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to grow up because I could do whatever I wanted. Little did I realize the freedom I experienced as a kid would never be matched again. This wasn't a freedom that allowed everything, but a freedom that because I was my parent's responsibility, I had no need to worry and could simply have fun. While I was limited in the available actions, I was limitless in freedom of spirit. Now that I am experimenting with this whole grown-up thing, I realize that while I have limitless options, my responsibilities limit me. I cannot stay up all night because I have to go to work in the morning. I cannot eat lobster everyday because I have to pay rent at the end of the month. Being a grown-up is not quite what I imagined. 

Responsibilities are great things, they give us passion, purpose, and direction. But they can also deliver worry and stress. All my life my actions only seemingly affected me, but now there are several people at least partially dependent upon me keeping it together and to be honest, I'm not so sure I'm capable. And yet, I find the courage to get out of bed each day and at least attempt to be productive, to put on a happy face that betrays the heavy-laden condition of my soul. I fear less that I will fail as that I will be found out. And with each day a new role or task or worry or fear adds to the mountain upon my shoulders. How can I hold it all, how can I, of all people, be that strong.

I can't.

What being a grown-up has taught me is that it is about responsibility but not just my own.  I share my load with you and you share yours with me. Each of us was meant to carry each other. And above all, I believe, God is there, not to heap more on us, things like shame and guilt, but to carry our burdens. This is perhaps the hardest thing to not only believe but to live. Somehow I make it up in my mind that I have to be perfect, not let God down. But I am reminded that I do not hold Him up but that He holds me up.

Jesus taught His disciples to pray as such: "Father, Reveal who you are. Set the world right. Keep us alive with three square meals. Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others. Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil." This is not a prayer that assumes much at all on behalf of the one praying. We see a simple series of commands, not flowery requests but demands. We go bold before the maker of all things and demand that He make this world right, that He feed us, forgive us and protect us. We will settle for nothing less. But core to this is that we need Him at every level and at its most basic. Our lives as grown-ups are not about making sure we take care of our responsibilities, but rather coming to a point where we not only know but live by the truth that we are utterly incapable. It is in this moment of of emptiness that we are filled. It is in this confession that we find strength. When we release our responsibilities to the only one capable of shouldering them, we finally have that same freedom we knew as children, to be free in our souls. And it is in this freedom that we can truly live, that we can truly shoulder the days ahead.

Identity

The following is an exercise I recently completed in response to reading Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son in which I was to record who I thought I was.  I wrote this in a furious manner without much edit.  Praying throughout, I was honest with my opinion of myself and the results were not so pretty.  The beautiful thing was that while this exercise was intended to only include my own opinion of myself, I laid bare my spirit before God and He rewrote my identity.  I am still struggling with loving myself in the hopes of loving others, but this exercise allowed to face the lies I've bought about myself and to hear God whisper a new name into my ear.

"Michael"

by Michael

I'm not sure I truly even know my own motives.  Nouwen said this about how the "distant land" dehumanizes us. I too feel oddly unknowable even by myself, mostly by myself.  I feel very alone, uncool, unlovable, unneeded.  But most of all, I believe myself to be a loser, a failure.  Everything I have ever given myself to, I have failed to succeed. Sure there were moments of victory but mainly they were speed bumps on the road of defeat.  I am not attractive, I am not smart, I am lazy, self-serving and greedy.  I am lustful, but what saddens me most, ironically, is that I don't care anymore.  I turn off the most special gift given to me, my passion for life, because I am so tired of failing and feeling hurt.  So, I choose simply not to feel at all and miss all the good too.  This kills me and the cycle of self-degradation only intensifies.

"Michael"

by the Father

You are my son, my beloved, on whom my favor rests.  I made you and I love you, always my son, always.  I will never forsake you.  I know your hurt and I know your mistakes too and I forgive you completely.  I love you.  I want you Michael, more than you know; I like you, you are special in my eyes.  I wept when I formed you in your mother's womb, you are so beautiful.  I see myself in you, a fiery passion to live and to love, an earnest desire to be true.  You are victorious, even though you have felt defeat, they were only speed bumps on the path of life.  I have given you a special gift: my love, and with that gift I give you your heart's desire.  So love Michael, because I love you.

A Community Prayer for Courage

Abba, forgive us for not listening to your voice.  We are yours, grant us the courage to live in that reality.  May we take bold risks in your name and have the strength of heart to hope in you.  Teach us to love each other in a manner we currently do not understand, to be foolish for you. 


Be our God and may we be your people.  


Guard us from ourselves and the false demands of others. Help us to know our inheritance as your sons and daughters. May we find our worth in you. May we find contentment in you and may we cease striving after these things everywhere else.  Give us eyes to see you in the least of these our brothers and sisters. Lord, have mercy on us. Amen.