Pentecost Prayers

Today is Pentecost...

...may the firstfruits of our hearts be grace and love and justice, instead of suspicion and hatred and fear.

Today is Pentecost...

...may I bring you my best, my firstfruits - instead of my leftovers, my afterthoughts.

 

Today is Pentecost...

...may I be more focused on what I bring to You {my all} than what I want from You.

Today is Pentecost...

...won't you please bring unity like you did that day 2000 years ago, uniting people of different languages and cultures and nations together as one beautifully blended family. Somehow, someway.

Today is Pentecost...

...may we have more reverence for your thundering justice on the mountaintop than for the mortal murmuring of politicians and pundits.

 

Today is Pentecost...

...please refine us and burn away all that is prideful, selfish and evil in me - in us - so that we can care for one another in Spirit and in Truth.

Today is Pentecost...

...so may your Spirit have His way in me - in us - so that love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control reign in me and overflow from me. In us, from us.

Amen.

 

 

I Can No Longer Lament

To be perfectly honest with you, I don't know what to do with myself right now.  If you don't know immediately what I mean, then I don't know what to say.

Growing up as a Jewish kid, I always thought it was poetic when people tore their clothing as an expression of mourning.  But I honestly never considered it to be anything other than symbolic.  

Then came Spring 2020.  

As the pandemic spread across the globe, fear and grief captured us, and then began to divide us.  And it drove me to lament.  

And by lament, I mean crying out to God against brokenness, in faith -- to borrow the teaching of our pastor, Ryan Showalter.  {See, I can still learn and grow during an online worship service while sitting on my couch wearing pajamas!}

I was sad and I was disheartened and I could put words to all of it.  And so I was lamenting.  A lot.

But then.  The news about Ahmaud Arbery {finally} surfaced, and I could no longer lament.  We watched George Floyd die under the weight of a white officer's knee, and I could no longer lament.  Human beings are being dehumanized before our very eyes, and I cannot lament.  

I cannot lament because I cannot find words.  And now I finally understand why people tear their clothing.

I feel like a child in distress who doesn't have the vocabulary to express the thoughts and emotions churning inside.  I feel a perpetual urge to tear my garments because I simply cannot express the depth of this grief and rage and bewilderment and helplessness.

If you call yourself a follower of God, then racism and violence against fellow image-bearers should absolutely rip your heart apart.  And so should hearing other people minimize it or justify it.

Jesus died to destroy the barriers between us.  Yes, between us and God, but also the "dividing wall of hostility" between races and nationalities.  Heck, if He hadn't, most people who call themselves Christians today would still be called Gentiles, and I would be shrugging my shoulders saying, "sorry, you're not part of the vine."  

But Jesus came to abolish all of that division and prejudice and hatred.  He abolished it in His torn flesh.*  And if we each don't do everything in our power to work out that ministry of reconciliation in our lives and our communities in His Name, we will be gutting the Gospel.

But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.  Amos 5:24

*See Ephesians 2

Be the Branch (aka alone on Palm Sunday)

Maybe today you are craving community.  

Maybe for the first time in a long time, you're longing to be part of a Palm Sunday gathering. 

To celebrate the arrival of the Messiah into Jerusalem.  Knowing the horrible, beautiful thing that is to come.

Wishing you could be part of a throng that is throwing palm branches on the ground, crying out "Hosannah!"  Save us.

But instead of mourning the aloneness on this day of community, maybe we can celebrate it.  

Instead of being part of the crowd, let's be the palm branch.  

Picture laying yourself, your life, before the One who is life.  Who sacrificed Himself but then broke the grave wide open for you.  

Ponder it.  Rejoice in it.  Accept the gift that is today, in a new way.  Instead of mourning, sit in wonder and worship.

On this day when you cannot be part of the crowd, be the branch.

Blessings in the Distancing

So, here we are in the age of COVID19 and social distancing.

My college student begins online classes today. My high schooler is on day three of online learning. My husband is the lead for his health care system’s handling of the virus, so he’s on Day ?? of 24/7. And I’m on extra pound number 4.

My sisters and their families live in NYC, D.C.and Orlando. Things are beyond joking, the way they are here in N.C., where we’re earlier on the curve and people don’t understand why they shouldn’t go to the mall or why their favorite restaurant is offering only curbside service.

We’re still so early on the curve that people are still throwing around media conspiracy theories and political agendas as the reason for the current shutdown.

I’ve muted these people.

The reality is that perusing social media has made me anxious, angry and agitated. It’s not healthy. So I’ve decided that I’m just going to post snapshots of beauty in the midst of all this. That I will seek out things for which to be thankful. To open my eyes to the gifts in front of me and share them, in hopes that they brighten someone else’s day. Or just mine - I’m okay with that, too.

So this morning I created a new hashtag: #blessingsinthedistancing. Maybe you can join me and post/tag your pics!  Here's my first post. Peace and grace to you today ❤️

The Desert Road