O God of many names, we seek, and perhaps find, aspects of You in the words that we say here. We seek, and perhaps find, aspects of You in symbol and metaphor.
These devices help us to perceive You as if through a glass darkly. But they are not You. The names, the symbols, the metaphors are but our attempts to comprehend what is beyond our comprehension, to express what cannot be adequately expressed.
O God who speaks to us in a still small voice, speak to us now. Help us on this morning of sunshine and daffodils and birdsong to attend to that still small voice, to look within, to know ourselves.
But, O God of our secret hearts, let that inward gaze be a beginning not an end. Let us not become so enamored that we, like Narcissus, the youth of myth, become ensnared by our own reflections.
O God in whom we live and move and have our being, on this day of quiet winter loveliness, we gather to listen and remember.
We remember times past when we have walked the wintry woods alone, and contemplated visions of snow on snow, snow on snow.
O God who stirs as ceaselessly as the roaring sea and who is as still as a silent mountain, stir within and among us this morning a determination to be peacemakers.
In this season of festive gaiety and quiet contemplation of snow on snow, we can forget that war and violence are widespread. War marches in the mountains of Afghanistan and rumbles through the dusty streets of Iraq. Every day, violence touches lives in Washington, D.C. -- and its suburbs, too. Strife and harsh words can mar our personal relationships. We can harbor anger and carefully tended resentments in our hearts.
O Source of All that was and is and is to be, we come into your presence seeking release, ready to learn how to let go of the things that seem important to us:
money we feel we have earned – and already earmarked,
time we feel is limited – and so quickly passed,
lives we feel are our own – and yet never seem to be fully under our control
O God in whom we live and move and have our being, and who lives and moves and breathes in us and through us, we would be aware of your presence -- in this place, at this very moment.
Comforter, whether we like it or not, we are wanderers. We begin as babies, if we are lucky, in our parents’ loving arms. We grow through childhood; we mature. Perhaps we leave home and establish our own homes. Perhaps we have children of our own.
O God of justice, like petulant children, we – your people – cry out, “No fair!” when confronted with life’s little setbacks. “No fair!” we want to scream as we sit in traffic, yet again. “No fair!” we cry inwardly when our diligence goes unappreciated and the glad-handing co-worker wins the promotion. “No fair!” we mumble during the unceasing stream of weekend errands.
O ever-present God, in whom we live and move and have our being: Sometimes we feel lost. We don’t know where we are or where we are going. Sometimes, it seems, we don’t even know who we are. We feel as if You are distant – or not there at all.
Masterful God who was and is and will be, out of no time you brought forth a new day. From swimming crawling things in the mud, you scooped us up to our feet and into your image. Now in our need to shape our own lives, we have made a New Year. On this threshold of time, may we move forward remembering that though we can name this a new year, only You, Father of all Time, make a new day for us to live in. May we greet this new day, this New Year with gratitude appropriate for the gift that it is.
We enter now into a time of prayer, spoken at first, and then silent.
Gracious Light, we are gathered to revel in your infinite refractions, that make for us an abundant life whose every moment carries the import of the ages. We would ask for the humility prerequisite to awe, and would respond with natural gratitude for your enduring and ever-giving love.
Eternal One, we spend our lives in forgetfulness—rushing to be places, rushing to be at work, rushing to be home, rushing, even, to be at church. Sometimes we forget to simply be.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day—a day of remembrance. Today we are gathered in a church whose very name is dedicated to the work of remembrance. Slow us down, Eternal One. Focus our hearts and minds so that we may accomplish the aims of this hour.
Dark and doubtful God—
We pray for the strength to hope.
We pray for those in places of war, and those whose nations are afflicted with turmoil, (particularly:) and we pray for all those who labor far from home for peace and justice, (particularly:)
We reach out for inspiration,
our souls thirsting like a parched land,
after a week in which the attention we give to the work of our hands
far too closely resembles worship.
‘Glory to God is the Highest!’
Creation’s voice proclaims it.
By God’s power, each rock and flower
Was planned and made.
Sun, moon and stars in heaven
Cry, 'Glory to God is the Highest!’
(Adapted from contemporary hymn)
Peace is not the product of terror or fear.
Peace is not the silence of cemeteries.
Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all.
It is right and it is duty.
It is hard work. It is our work, and it is God’s work.
When the goal is our souls’ renewal,
do we seek it with fine gold?
Do we eat sweet honey,
expecting God to cleanse us
as we are filled?
Or do we look to the glory of the heavens
to find inspiration in the Creator’s handiwork,
and immerse ourselves in the testimony of the Most High?
(Adapted from Psalm 19)
If you would know God and worship and serve God as you should do, you must come to the means he has ordained ….
Commit your destiny to God, and be confident.
Make God your joy, and receive your heart's desire.
Stay quiet before God, and wait patiently for the Spirit's presence.
(Adapted from Psalm 37)
As the earth brings forth its blossom
and a garden pushes its seeds toward the sun
So will the Lord God make saving justice and praise
spring up before all the nations.
God will make even the mountains and hills
break into cries of joy,
And lead his people forth in safety and peace.
(adapted from Isaiah 61:11, 55:12)
Our feet are washed,
and our souls have been nourished at your festival table, O God.
Yet, at the end of our journey to Jerusalem,
we encounter a fearful sight.
The steadfast love of God never ceases,
God’s mercies never come to an end;
They are new each morning.
The path of the just is like the light of dawn,
its brightness growing into perfect day.