Pandemic Prayers for Proper 28

As in the days before ballots were being counted, music is where my heart is led. I haven’t yet turned on the Christmas carols but I’m close. I’m really close.

It was actually while I was looking for music for Advent and Christmas that I found this song. it speaks to what im feeling after th election results were tallied. I know it is mot universal. there are those across the aisle greiving, protesting amd even condemning their neighbors. I saw a colleague pose the question on Facebook as to how we make room for that grief in the purple messy middle that is more common than not in most American churches.

I’m not even sure it could be used in worship and not just because of licensing. I’m not quite sure it leaves room for us all to mov forward together even when that is what we are called to do not only as Americans but as people of faith. As the Christian calendar slowly turns to the hopes and fears of all the years, I wonder about our hopes for this world.

Maybe I’m already feeling the haunting need to sing carols out of tune from the pews. (I am not gifted with voice.) Or maybe it’s that singing is the only way that I can imagine such hope right now. Even when we are not able to sing together, music fills these prayers.

Call to Worship

inspired by Psalm 123

O God, you have been our help

in ages past. You’ve reminded us

what was possible

and pushed us beyond our fears.

You’ve raised our eyes

to higher ground

and made our hearts soar

with the hope of years to come.

Be our guard while

these troubles last

and dare us to dream

in this new day.

Surprise us, O God,

with good trouble

in our worship

this day.

As this prayer alludes to a favorite old hymn, you might opt to follow the prayer with a new rendition of an old favorite. Or instead ask your talented choir or soloist remind us of the power of this favorite hymn.

Prayer of Confession

using sung response Wait for the Lord

inspired by 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

We still wonder, Holy One,

how that day will come.

Will it come like a thief?

Will we feel robbed

and frightened

by what we could not control?

We wait in hope, O God.

Verse of Wait for the Lord

We are not sure

what peace and security might look

like or how it might come to dwell

in our marrow, for we

are too preoccupied with

what has been lost

and who has been hurt

and how much work we still have to do

to imagine your possibility and love.

We wait in hope, O God.

Verse of Wait for the Lord

We have felt the darkness

so much more than

we have convinced ourselves of the light.

We have feared more than we hoped.

Our teeth have clenched

and knuckle have gone white

wondering what else could happen

that we have let ourselves

be convinced that

this is just the way it is

rather than daring to dream

that we could encourage

and build each other up

into the hope that you have never

doubted was possible

for the children of light.

Help us, Holy One,

to create with you.

We wait for your muse

and encouragement.

Verse of Wait for the Lord

If you opt for Psalm 90, you might prefer this Call to Worship from a few weeks ago. There are also a lot of wonderful suggestions for this Sunday on Singing from the Lectionary. It is hard to pick just one or two songs to move our souls.

That’s all I’ve got for you this week.

As always, dear pastors, musicians and worship leaders, I’m praying for you.

Pandemic Prayers for Proper 25

My constant refrain in these days is to bellow “what is time?”

I think I might intend it as a joke when it shows up as a blue bubble reply in a text message chain, but I’m not really sure. Time feels elusive. I decorated my house with tons of fake pumpkins (real ones rot fast in Texas and it is gross) in order to create some sense of time. Or was it that I wanted to feel festive? Or that I hoped that my children would remember these strange days with delight even while we were stuck in the house?

Psalm 90 made me laugh out loud after reading that fourth verse and so I find myself drawn there to meditate on the mystery of time in the pandemic. I’m thinking particularly about the way that time is unfolding in our congregations. My sweet Texas church is building a time capsule for future generations to muse over how we spent these days. At the same time, they are in the middle of an interim season asking all of the big questions about what it means to be a church now and into the future. As US churches are considering the harvest, the gifts of stewardship and Thanksgiving, it feels important to keep God’s vision on these pandemic days — and I don’t mean like all the white men who have already published books and articles about what churches have learned from the pandemic.

We do not know yet. We are not gods.

Call to Worship
Inspired by Matthew 22:34-46

We hang between
question and answer.
We hang in the tension
between what is known 
and unknown. We hang
on every word 
of hope and possibility.
We hang our
whole lives
on the law and the prophets
trying so very hard to
love God with all our hearts
with all our souls and 
with all our mind.
And so, we come
to hang out
by internet wires
and wi-fi devices
to find answers
to questions we haven't 
yet thought to ask.

Call to Worship
Inspired by Psalm 90:1-6

Dwell with us
here, O God.
Dwell in
our screens
and in our hearts 
as you have from
generation to generation.

Dwell with us
in this time 
of worship
enough that we can 
feel the ground begin to shift
and new horizons emerge.

Dwell with us
in all our pandemic 
confusion and worry
to find new
dreams and wonders
for ourselves
for our church
and for the world.
Dwell in 
our worship,
O God.

Prayer of Confession
Inspired by Psalm 90:1-6

For a thousand years
in your sight, Holy One,
are like yesterday
when it is past.
That is fine
for you but
we cannot remember
yesterday. It feels
indistinct from 
any of the yesterdays
before it. We want
to feel reassured
by your measure 
of time, Holy One,
but it does not feel like
this pandemic season 
will just sweep away.
We want to watch
the night and the day
with your vision
to see this world
and our dreams
renewed each morning
but our hope has faded
and our patience has withered
into nothing. Forgive us
for what we cannot 
see and expand our vision
with your boundless love.
Amen.

Writing these prayers made me remember this lovely essay on roads and pandemic wandering by Emily Scott from several months ago. An excerpt might be lovely as a meditation before the selected scripture for preaching or it might fit as an excellent illustration somewhere in that beautiful sermon you are writing, dear pastor. As it helps, this would be the section I’d feel called to highlight:

Start looking, and you’ll see roads all over the Bible. These solitary travelers journeyed in situations of great uncertainty, much like our own. Their destinations may have been clear, but their futures were less so. Somewhere along the way, however, they always encountered something unexpected: the astonishing presence of the sacred.

Jacob, for instance, ended up in a wrestling match with God as he journeyed. A court official of the Ethiopian queen is baptized by the side of a thoroughfare. Two disciples trudging along a dusty byway, having heard the news of Jesus’ death, find that he was walking with them all along. And Paul hears God’s voice and ends up blind on the way to Damascus.

A road is an unlikely metaphor for a pandemic that has us stuck at home. But what happens when we see ourselves as purposefully scattered — sent out on an unexpected journey, traveling solo? In the bible, the road is often a place of desolation and isolation, but also of encounter. A road has direction; it carries us from an old life to a new one.

Emily Soctt

I would also be inclined to find an opportunity for this hymn to be sung in some way.

Finally, I shared a Prayer for the Church on the RevGalBlogPals’ weekly Worship Words that could also fit with this slight bend toward harvest and thanksgiving. Though it picks up on the epistle from last week, it could also be used along with this theme. You can find it here.

That’s all I’ve got for you this week.

I am always praying for you, dear pastors, liturgists and musicians.