We come to pray for ourselves…

Photo by Chris Zhang on Unsplash

God of our times, our years, our days.
  You are the God of our work,
        of our rest,
        of our weariness.
Our times are in your hands. We come to you now
    in our strength and in our weakness,
    in our hope and in our despair,
    in our buoyancy and in our disease.
We come to pray for ourselves and for all like us
    who seek and yearn for life anew with you and from you
        and for you.

We pray to you this day, for ourselves and others like us in our greed
  We are among those who want more,
        more money, more power, more piety, more sex,
        more influence, more doctrine, more notice,
        more members,
        more students, more morality, more learning, more shoes.
  Be for us enough and more than enough,
    for we know about your self-giving generosity.

We pray to you this day; for ourselves and others like us
        in our disconsolation.
  We are not far removed from those without.
        without love. without home, without hope,
        without job, without health care.
  We are close enough to vision those who must
        check discarded butts to see if there is one more puff,
        who must rummage and scavenge for food.
        for their hungers are close to ours.
  Be among us the God who fills the hungry with good things,
        and sends the rich away empty.

We pray to you this day, for ourselves and others like us
    who are genuinely good people,
    who meditate on your Torah day and night.
    who are propelled by and for your best causes.
    who are on the right side of every issue,
    who wear ourselves out in obedience to you,
        and sometimes wear others out with our good intentions.
Be among us ultimate enough
        to make our passions penultimate,
        valid but less than crucial.
 
We are your people. We wait for you to be more visibly
    and palpably our God.
So we pray with our mothers and fathers, ” Come, Lord Jesus.”
We wait for your coming with all the graciousness we can muster.
Amen.
 
Walter Brueggemann, 1933 – 2025,  American Protestant Old Testament theologian 
 
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Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, 
    that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

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Jesus, fight for me against Satan

 
Lord Jehovah,
judge my cause and fight for me against Satan and his host.
Lay the strong one low!
 
I have cast off his yoke, and renounced his cursed power.
He doubly hates this, and longs to seize me as his prey.
 
I flee to you and to your cross for help.
He would win if you did not deliver me – but you have already defeated him.
 
Do not let him conquer me! Put him to shame, O Lord my God! 
Give me victory!
 
It is not strength that wins; my weakness is my shield.
In lowly trust we fight the fight, and weakness wins the battle.
 
So give me a lowly heart, and cast away each prideful thought.
Let gentleness and love come in instead, and abide in my life.
 
Your will, not mine, be done. I resist my selfish desires.
Let me ever and always be your servant only.
 
Jesus, I flee to you. I cling to your cross.
Save me from Satan’s hellish power and pluck me from his grasp.
 
So I will praise you, Lord, and adore your great name.
With Father and Spirit one, forever and ever, amen.
 
Ephrem the Syrian, c.306-373, Syrian hymn writer and theologian
 
____________________________
 
 
Be sober-minded; be watchful. 
Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. 
Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering 
   are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. 
And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, 
    who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, 
    will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 
To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.
 

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Lord of ultimate power

photo by Christian Lue via unsplash
      

Father, source of all power, 
We confess that we do not always use the powers you have given us as you intend. 
Sometimes we are afraid of the power we wield, 
        and so do not use it at all; 
  at other times we are careless in our use of it and harm others; 
  at yet other times we deliberately misuse it to achieve our own selfish ends. 
We confess our misuse of our God-given powers, 
    and ask for your grace to use them properly in the future.
 
We think of the power of the nations of the world. 
In international affairs it so often seems that events are out of our control, and rule us. 
Father, help us to see how national power can be wielded for the fulfilment of your will.
 
We think of the power of economic systems. 
Often we feel enmeshed in a system which is not fair 
    and yet cannot be changed without causing immense hardship. 
Father, help us to become masters of economic forces 
    and to order them for the purposes of justice.
 
We think of the power of governments. 
They now touch our personal lives at so many points. 
Father, may politicians and civil servants use their powers responsibly 
    and respect the rights of individuals.

Give us the courage to challenge them when they are wrong, 
    and willingness to share in the processes of government ourselves. 
May the power of governments everywhere be used for the good of all.

Father, yours is the ultimate power. 
We see evidence of it everywhere in the world, 
    but most of all in Jesus Christ. 
In him we see the power of your love: 
    weakness and death did not destroy him and you raised him from death. 
May that same power of love be in us.

Caryl Micklem, 1925 – 2003, English minister and hymn writer
 
______________________________
 
 
His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, 
    through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence,
    by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, 
    so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, 
    having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.

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seeing Easter through fresh eyes

The Women at the Sepulchre, Benjamin West, Brooklyn Museum
 
Lord,
as if the shock of Good Friday wasn’t enough for your closest followers…

We feel for those faithful women who went to visit you
just after sunrise on that Sunday morning,
and fled, trembling and bewildered and afraid.

You were not there.

Forgive us when we sanitise your death.
And forgive us, too, if we belittle your resurrection!

Please help us to see this most incredible of moments,
this greatest twist of any plot,
through fresh eyes,
on this bewildering, yet most joyful of mornings.

Help us to see it through the tear-filled eyes of those women.

Help us to see it through the disbelieving eyes of the men,
some of whom came running.

And help us to glimpse it through your own eyes,
which must have blinked into the early morning sunlight
of that first Easter Day,
from out of complete, and utter, darkness,
and refocused,
and creased, with a smile.

You are risen indeed.
 
 
Brian Draper, Christian writer in the UK 
 
_________________________________
 
 
On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, 
    the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. 
They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 
    but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. 
While they were wondering about this, 
    suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. 
In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, 
    but the men said to them, 
        “Why do you look for the living among the dead? 
          He is not here; he has risen! 
          Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 
           ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, 
             be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ” 
Then they remembered his words.
 

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Prayer on Good Friday

photo by Murilo Soares via pexels
 
Prayer on Good Friday.
Which isn’t good at all.
One of the great misnomers of all time.
It’s bleak, haunted, immensely sad.
It rivets and ravages me every year 
    as I sit hidden behind a post-beam
    in the balcony of the chapel,
    where no one can see me weeping
    at the poor broken Yeshua,
    betrayed by his best friends,
    beaten by sneering cops,
    blood dripping into His eyes,
    grilled by a police chief who couldn’t care less
        about justice and mercy and only wants to evade blame
        for a matter he considers minor at best.
 
Yet it wasn’t minor at all,
     and somehow it turns on that harrowing day long ago.
A mysterious young man from a country village,
    causing an epic political and civil ruckus in the city.
A murderous mob, angry religious Brahmins, potential colonial unrest
    that will not look good at headquarters.
Gnomic answers by the calm young man when interrogated.
Poor Peter bitterly berating himself for his cowardice,
    and which one of us would have done better?
The apostles frightened, the sound of hammers 
    nailing the young man to a cross,
    the lowering darkness, 
    the murmurs of fear through the city as the sun is blotted out.
Veronica’s veil and Simon’s shoulders, Simon the African,
    did compassion surge and make him step forth,
    or was he shoved into legend by a soldier?
 
The gaunt young man sagging toward death; 
    His quiet blessing of a thief;
    His last words to his mother;
        one last desperate cry;
    He thirsts, He prays, He dies.
 
And in the chapel not another word, not another sound;
    and soon we exit silently, and go our ways,
    for once without the tang of Euchaist on our tongues,
    for once without a cheerful chaff for friends and handshakes all round;
    and no matter how bright the rest of the day,
        how brilliant the late afternoon, 
        how redolent the new flowers,
        how wild the sunset over the river
    you shiver a little; not just for Him, but for all of us,
    His children, face to face with despair.
And so silently home to pray for light emerging miraculously
    where it seemed all dark.
And so: amen.
 
Brian Doyle, 1956 – 2017, Catholic author from Oregon
A Book of Uncommon Prayer
____________________________
 
 
It was now about noon, 
    and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon,
    for the sun stopped shining. 
And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 
Jesus called out with a loud voice, 
    “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
When he had said this, he breathed his last.
 

What was it like when Mary anointed your feet?

image, GFreihalter, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons
 
 
Jesus, what was it like when Mary anointed your feet?
Was there daylight or was the room lit with candles?
Did she anoint your right foot first?
Was the spikenard warm?
How long did it take to pour out the entire bottle?
What did it feel like to have her hair wiping your feet?
Just how fragrant did the room become?

What was Mary feeling? Immense gratitude, unbridled love, melancholy?
Did she have any idea that she was preparing your body for burial?

What was the tone of Judas and the disciples who objected?
Were any of them really thinking of the poor?
Would I have joined them in their disdain?

How sharp or gentle were your words of correction?
Did they have any idea that you would be washing their feet soon?

How did Mary receive your words defending her?
Did she smile, or did her eyes become wet?
How did she feel when you shared that you would not be with them much longer?

What was it like to be with you that evening, Jesus?
Be close to me as I follow you through Holy Week.
 
EM
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Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, 
    where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 
Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. 
Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. 
Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; 
    she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. 
And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, 
    “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? 
      It was worth a year’s wages.” 
He did not say this because he cared about the poor 
    but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, 
   he used to help himself to what was put into it.

“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. 
“It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. 
You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”

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Why is there so little prayer?

 
Why is there so little urgency
    to get time to pray?
Why is there so little forethought 
    in the laying out of time and schedule
  so as to secure a large portion 
    of each day for prayer?
Why is there so much talking,
    yet so little prayer?
Why is there so much running to and fro,
    yet so little prayer?
Why so much bustle and business,
    yet so little prayer?
Why so many meetings with our fellow men.
    yet so few meetings with You?
Why so little being alone,
    so little thirsting of the soul 
        for the calm. sweet, hours of unbroken solitude,
    where You and your child hold fellowship 
        as if they could never part?
It is the scarcity of these solitary hours 
    that not only injures my own growth in grace
    but also makes me such an unprofitable member of Your church,
         and renders my life useless.
 
Horatius Bonar, 1808-1889, Scottish Preacher and Hymnist
Celtic Daily Prayer, freely modified
 
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Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer;
    listen to my plea for grace.
In the day of my trouble I call upon you,
    for you answer me.
 

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we celebrate the coming of our Saviour

Adoration of the Magi, via Flickr, CC BY-NC 2.0
 
Blessed are you, O Christ, our God;
    you were before time began,
    and came to the world to save us.
Blessed are you, Sun of righteousness;
    you shine with the Father’s love
    and illumine the whole universe.
Blessed are you, Son of Mary;
    born a child
    you shared our humanity.
Blessed are you, son of David;
    born to rule,
    you received gifts from the wise men.
Blessed are you, Son of Man;
    baptised by John,
    you saved us from ourselves.
Blessed are you, heavenly King;
    teaching and preaching, healing and comforting,
    you proclaimed the kingdom.
With all the voices of heaven
    we celebrate the coming of our Saviour.
Let heaven and earth shout their praise.
With all the creatures on earth
    we sing and dance at your birth.
Praise and glory to you, O Lord Jesus Christ.
 
David Beswick, 1933 – , Australian Minister and Professor
 
___________________
 
 
When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. 
On coming to the house, 
    they saw the child with his mother Mary, 
    and they bowed down and worshiped him. 
Then they opened their treasures 
    and presented him with gifts 
    of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

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Jesus Christ the King

The Christ Pantocrator of St. Catherine’s Monastery at Sinai, 6th Century via Wikimedia Commons

 
You are Jesus Christ, 
    Word of God, Begotten before the light,
    creator together with the Father.
You are the fashioner of man, all in all.
 
Among the patriarchs you are Patriarch;
    in the law, the Law.
Among the priests, Chief Priest;
    among kings, the Ruler;
    among prophets, the Prophet;
    among the angels, Archangel.
In the voice of the preacher, you are the Word;
    among the spirits, the Spirit;
    in the Father, the Son; 
    in God, God.
 
You are King forever and ever.
For you were the pilot to Noah, 
    the guide to Abraham, bound to Isaac,
    in exile with Jacob, sold with Joseph.
You were there with Moses.
In David and the prophets 
    you announced your own sufferings.
You put on bodily form in the Virgin,
    were born in Bethlehem,
    wrapped in swaddling clothes in the manger,
    seen by the shepherds, glorified by the angels,
    worshipped by the magi.
 
You were pointed out by John,
    gathered together the apostles, 
    and you preached the kingdom.
You cured the lame, 
    gave light to the blind, 
    and raised the dead.
You appeared in the temple, 
    were not believed on by the people,
    betrayed by Judas, 
    captured by the priests, 
    and condemned by Pilate.
 
You were pierced in the flesh, hung on the tree,
    and buried in the earth.
You rose from the place of the dead,
    appeared to the apostles, 
    were carried up to heaven,
    and are seated at the right hand of the Father.
 
You are the rest for those that are departed, 
    the one who recovers the lost,
    the light of those who are in darkness,
    the deliverer of those who are captive,
    the guide of those who go astray,
    and the asylum of the afflicted.
 
You are the bridegroom of the church,
    the charioteer of the cherubim,
    and captain of the angels.
You are God who is from God,
Son from the Father,
Jesus Christ the King forevermore.
 
Amen.
 
Melito of Sardis, d.180, Bishop of Sardis
Fount of Heaven Prayers of the Early Church
 
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The Son is the image of the invisible God, 
    the firstborn over all creation. 
For in him all things were created: 
    things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, 
    whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; 
     all things have been created through him and for him. 
He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 
And he is the head of the body, the church; 
    he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, 
    so that in everything he might have the supremacy.

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You rule this world

The Son of Man Enthroned, Lawrence OP, via Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
 
Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honour
and power and might
to you, Lord Jesus.

You rule this world
with love and grace.

There are days when we have a hard time seeing it
but you have promised that
you are moving all creation toward that time
when God will get what God wants —
a creation where peace and goodness and compassion
shape all of life.

And you give us good work to do
in the time that is ours:
prayer and praise and hope and truth.

We are not always sure how what we do is serving your holy purposes
but we submit our lives to you.
We trust you, our crucified and risen Lord,
to take what we offer and transform it
so that it glorifies you. Amen
 
Christine Jerrett, minister in the United Church of Canada
_______________________
 
 
After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude 
that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, 
standing before the throne and before the Lamb. 
They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. 
And they cried out in a loud voice:

    “Salvation belongs to our God,
    who sits on the throne,
    and to the Lamb.”
 
All the angels were standing around the throne 
and around the elders and the four living creatures. 
They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying:

    “Amen!
    Praise and glory
    and wisdom and thanks and honor
    and power and strength
    be to our God for ever and ever.
    Amen!”

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