We pray, O God, for all those who enter the holiday season with a sense of overwhelming sadness: those whose sadness is brought on by heightened grief of the loss of a loved one; those who are sad because the holidays bring acute awareness of family or relational dysfunction or discord; those whose sadness comes from an inability to create the Norman Rockwell life that marketers and advertisers use to create a restless desire to purchase; those whose emotions are overcome by the incongruence of life in the first eleven months of the year, or the painful difference between the “haves” and the “have nots”; and those whose sadness comes from any other reason. Help us, O Lord, as your children, to be keenly aware and ready to open our ears and our hearts to those who are anything but happy for the holidays, through Jesus Christ our Lord…..
We pray, O God, for all those whose holidays will be consumed with the overwhelming task of rebuilding their homes and their lives: those whose neighborhoods have been ravaged by hurricane, flood, tornado, earthquake, tsunami, fire, or other disaster; those whose neighborhoods and lives have been turned to rubble by monster machinery of war. Help us, as your children, to have the grace to offer who we are and what we have been given to alleviate their suffering; through Jesus Christ our Lord…..
We pray, O God, for all those whose holidays will be consumed with worries about health and wellness, for themselves or someone near and dear: those whose holiday appetites will be diminished by chemotherapy; those whose holiday schedules will be filled with radiation, physical therapy, or booked for surgery; those whose glasses will be raised, not to toast, but to chase down handfulls of pills which they hope will extend the quality and/or quantity of their days. Help us, O Lord, as your children, to support, by your grace, all efforts at health and healing, through Jesus Christ our Lord…..
We pray, O God, for all those who are leaders, in our congregation, our community, our state, our nation, and in the world: those who make decisions about the direction of our congregation’s ministry and mission; those who direct funding, support, programs and protection for this city, this county, this state, this nation, and for all nations. Give us the courage to demand and support leaders who are willing to risk and sacrifice as much for peace and justice as we ask our military to risk and sacrifice in support of war; through Jesus Christ our Lord…..
In the midst of this Advent season, O Lord, give us unfailing hope through your unimaginable promise; give us unquenchable joy through your gift of deliverance; through Jesus Christ our Lord….
Now hear us, O God, as we join our hearts and voices together to pray the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples, as we pray together….. Our father……
© 2017 Todd Jenkins
As an acrostic of storms accumulates on our news feeds, their names aligned like Beelzebub's old-school Rolodex, we beseech you, O God of wind and water, to breathe a calming counter-wind and send sponge-clouds to hold the deluge, so rain is more gently squeezed out in manageable and absorbable amounts. As the earth trembles to our south, gaping wide to swallow portions of Central American civilization, we pray for a tangible presence of your sacred tether, O God. Give hope to those digging through the rubble in search of life. With and in your strong but tender hand of comfort, O prayer-catcher, gently hold the tears of those buried in the grief of loved ones lost. The forests are ablaze, not with the light of your glory, O God, but with a consuming fire of destruction. You, who created winds that can be whipped into storms, we implore you to breathe extinguishing spirits and send blanketing rains upon the woods and neighborhoods, shielding firefighters and all life in peril's path. May our prayers have hands, feet, wallets, and hearts that know not national boundaries, speaking, acting, giving, and breaking for all, near and far, who find themselves battered and unmoored. Let us refract your love, O Lord, through the dispersive prism of grace, that all may know your rainbow promise. Wind and water, earth and fire, all elements of creation's glory; so let it be imagined; so let it be intoned; so let it become. Selah, selah, selah. © 2017 Todd Jenkins
Pray with your mouth, pray with your feet, pray on the rooftop, pray in the street. Pray 'til the end, pray from the start, pray with your hands, pray with your heart. Pray with your money, pray with your boat, pray with your muscle, pray with your vote. Pray with your breathing, pray with your mind, pray with your stories, pray with anything you find. Pray out of the water, pray out of the air, wherever and whatever, make sure it's all prayer. Pray when you arrive, pray while you're on the way; with all your being and doing, always and forever, pray. © 2017 Todd Jenkins
What's it like to have a hurricane named after you; your own moniker attached to a high velocity wall of hydro destruction? Do you wish the random generator of tropical storm names had passed you by, the same way the lottery ticket gods have done for generations of desperate hopers? Do you take it upon yourself to stand up for those in harm's way, as if you've been singled out, personally, to rail toward the heavens with pleas of mercy and deliverance, willing their protection with each breath you take? Maybe, even when our name hasn't been broadcast, we can act and pray as if it has, for no other reason than the shared humanity of our beating hearts. Lord, send your angels… © 2017 Todd Jenkins
To say it casts itself, like fisherfolk with their nets, is as apt a description as I can render. Only there are no holes to let light through, only thick, suffocating, blanket-like heaviness to trap you underwater. No one knows where it comes from or how it chooses to settle on you and not a stranger whose flailing would barely create a noticeable tremor in our web. Clinicians speak of perfect storms and chemical imbalances -- the likes of hail and hell you wish and pray were completely beyond conjuring. When the darkness falls heaviest, and your ears and heart begin to funnel words into ever-shrinking strings, let these be the ones sinking all the way to the bottom of your soul, to a place where pain is held by love -- the only power strong enough to not let go: You are love with us. You are love with. You are love. You are. You. © 2017 Todd Jenkins
Prayers surround you like a generations-old blanket, pieces of stories and times past stitched together with a myriad of emotions, dusty with the scent from faded memories of many a stripe and ilk, stuffed with down from birds long-since traversed Tennyson's bar. May you find warmth, comfort, and sufficient breath for such a starless sky, all gently pulling you into dawns to come. © 2017 Todd Jenkins
Momming is identified, not by biology, but by its web of care, its haven of hope, its manuscript of guidance, its blanket of prayer, its fire of indignation, its roots of relationship, its watering can of nurture, its stove of nourishment, its taxi of deliverance (and sometimes rescue), its bottomless bucket of belief, its bone-deep compassion and grief, its purse of support, its sermon of conviction, its cheer of encouragement, and quite a few more that often fade into the backdrop. A toast to you, and all the ways you've mommed us: may your spiritual DNA keep the universe expanding toward grace! © 2017 Todd Jenkins
Prayers of the People for January 29, 2017.
Photo by Lizzie Mazariegos
We live, O God, in a fearful and divided culture; separated, not just from other faiths and nations, but also from the people who live in our neighborhoods, work with us, go to school with us, and even from some of the ones with whom we break bread on a regular basis. Our faith's rich tradition calls us away from such anxiety and estrangement, reminding us that we are all in this together; and contrary to Cain's distancing of himself from Abel's buried body, we ARE our neighbors' keeper, in neighborhoods without borders. We pray, O Lord, for guidance and wisdom, as we navigate our personal, community, state, and national roadmaps. Show us the narrow highway of love, even as it winds through the challenging mountains of relationship, listening, and sacrifice. Give us feathers on our skin, bones hollow yet strong, courage of the clouds, so we won't be pulled long earthward by gravity's fear, but freed instead to float on rising currents of hope, higher into grace's atmosphere. If only it were so easy, O God, like poetry rolling off our tongues, whisking us to happily ever after; but we know better. Our lives bear the bruises of broken hearts; our families carry the scars of shattered dreams. Give us this day, O storytelling dream-catcher, both tenacity and tenderness for the living of these days. Give us the gifts we need to open the doors of welcome to a world hungry and thirsty to know that your story is also their story. These and all prayers we ask in the name of the one who fed, healed, and welcomed the broken to a table of abundance; Jesus, the Christ. Amen. © 2017 Todd Jenkins
Photo by Lee Lindsey McKinney
When the time for doing ends, both daily and at the end-end, all we can do is slow down; slow down and gaze into the night sky; gaze into the night sky and listen to the sound of silence; listen to the sound of silence and wonder; wonder and hope; hope and pray; pray and let go. © 2017 Todd Jenkins
Far beyond a failure to protect them, intentional massacre is heinousness in the highest degree. How frightened do you have to be to declare all babies two years-old and younger acceptable collateral damage for your political aspirations and narcissistic ego? It's easy to condemn Herod for his atrocity. What's more difficult is admitting our own complicity in failing to leverage our privilege and power to provide basic dignity for today's children; for lumping innocents with those who've hijacked religion for violent political purposes so we can justify keeping them, not just at manger's-length, but exiled to places worse than Pharaoh's Egypt. Lord, have mercy, not just on our souls, but on our hearts and the lives of children everywhere. © 2016 Todd Jenkins