I have been writing liturgy for my sweet little Lutheran church here in Alaska all Advent long. I failed to post any of these prayers except for the first set of prayers, perhaps because I’m busy. Or maybe because I still feel like I’m trying to find my way through this high church experience. (I keep getting told that they can do low church which I want to believe until we get to communion. Everything changes at the table.) I’m continually surprised by it so that my words feel inadequate. It also strikes me that this is not a bad thing to feel about any prayer.

Today, I sat down to write the last of this series that stretches through Advent into Epiphany following the stories of familiar characters and wondering about our own stories. I attempted something a bit more formal and like how this came out. It feels true to me and true to them. I offer it hoping that it can spark something in your worship on Epiphany Sunday (whichever Sunday you might choose closest to January 6).

On Epiphany day, it feels like the story is all told. Light has come. The Christmas story is complete but there is still so much still to happen. There is still so much to come that we pray for more light for ourselves, for the church and for the world. Join me in praying this morning, naming these hopes before God, magnifying our shared hope by echoing every, Everywhere with let your light shine.

O Lord, we come into this story of wise ones traveling such a long, long way only to remember how far we have wandered. We started out with the best of intentions, hoping for something fantastic, something that would change everything. And there are hints of it. There is radiance, but we find ourselves wanting more. Everywhere, let your light shine.

For us, there is no clear ending. We may have overcome many obstacles already but it is not clear yet where the story will end. It is not clear what it is that this story will be. So we pray. Everywhere, let your light shine.

There are broken stories, halted in the middle of that long journey. There are stories of food insecurity and teachers working without contracts. There are people shivering in the cold, waiting for the warmth of the sun to shine again. It hasn’t happened yet. The story is still being told. Everywhere, let your light shine.

Remind us, O God, of our own wisdom. That we bring our own gifts. They might not seem as lavish but they are what is needed: a listening ear, an open heart, a bit of patience when there is so little. We make space for each other stories to be told, trusting that you will join us lead us home. Everywhere, let your light shine.

We pray not just for ourselves, but for our leaders to find such compassion and celebrate every incomplete. Everywhere, let your light shine.

We pray for the church universal, that we might be wise enough to see all the stars around us. There is so much radiance. So much to celebrate in the tenacity of the human story. Everywhere, let your light shine.

We pray for the thick darkness that still looms for so many, for those that can’t see their way through the story and just want to know how it will end. Everywhere, let your light shine.

Lift up our eyes, O Lord, so that we might see your radiance all around us. There is glory right here, in every story we have told and only begun to tell. May our hearts thrill and rejoice with such abundance in the ongoing discovery of our Emmanuel. You are with us, in every story. You are with us in everything. O Lord, everywhere, let your light shine. Amen.