Category Archives: prayer

who art in heaven

There is nothing wrong with our prayers, nor even with our orange stoles, unless they make no difference to the gaping wound that continues to haemorrhage life from this nation, that siphons off hope and replaces it with weaponry. Continue reading

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Prodigal prayer

Can we start over, with my head bent low and my knees bent lower, my eyes evading your pain hung high in case it engulfs my own? Can we start here, with my feet on the ground, my toes rooted … Continue reading

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Sufficient

I came to you out of driving need: a child’s wailing, howling hunger for bread and tenderness. You fed me loaves of love wrapped in wrinkled hands and silver Now it is my need holds me at bay: the need … Continue reading

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Undertow

I went to the water filled with chaos, foaming with worry, frothy with fear; I went to the water cold as winter, opaque as oil. I went to the water to see your Spirit spraying the rocks with invisible ink, animation drawn out of … Continue reading

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He descended to hell

In my resurrection icons Jesus does not rise alone, but hanging on his winding cloths, his wounded feet, holding on his holy hands, a conspiracy of new creation spills from an empty tomb. Image via Monastery Icons

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Tenebrae

Scarlet shadows seeping backward from the cross; cruel fascination draws us to the flame like moths, extinguished one by one; love like an earthquake sends us trembling toward the tomb

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The stones would shout

If these walls could speak, they would sing of the sun’s light seeping into sandstone, warming the night when Love comes calling … Continue reading

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A prayer for the anxious preacher

Faint stigmata of fingernails in palm-flesh, the careful unclenching of the jaw do not show, but You know, Anointed with anxiety in the Garden. If I lay end to end the moments I have spent, keys in hand, chanting, “okay, … Continue reading

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A prayer for the weary preacher

Abundant Word, your economy of language makes wine out of water, a feast of fish and bread, breaking nets out of sleepless nights I come with crumbs, with unslept eyes, high on the fumes of the day, my shredded garment … Continue reading

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A prayer for the woman preaching

You remember us as the woman who anointed Your anointed one … Continue reading

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