The Children's Advent Prayer

Although I wrote this prayer specifically for the Fourth Sunday of Advent in 2014, it can easily be prayed during other seasons with little adjustment.

In our service, a different child prayed each paragraph. The prayer is suitable for most ages, but it's quite moving in elementary and middle school children's voices. Our readers ranged in age from 6 to 17.

Take care to teach children words that may be new to them, like "abiding" and "incarnate," but don't hesitate to have even your youngest readers tackle such phrases, especially if they like to read. It's a wonderful chance for them to feel accomplished and expand their vocabulary at the same time.

You may use this prayer freely in your own worship and nonprofit materials. If you print it or repost online, please cite it to Kimberley Fais (2014).

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Let us pray.  God, even in this season of Advent, waiting for Jesus to be born, we remember that You were a child once.  You know what it is to hunger and thirst. You know what it is to have joy and sorrow.  You know what it’s like to be held in loving arms, to grow up in a community of faith.  So today we pray for the children.

We pray for the children whose voices are not heard.  God of Truth and Patience, sometimes we need Your help to speak up, and sometimes we need Your help to listen.

We pray for the children who are hurt because of the color of their skin.  God of All People, give us the courage to recognize injustice.  Help us to be a community where we don’t hurt each other for the ways that You created us.

We pray for the children who experience violence and fear.  Abiding God, grant us Your peace.  Make us instruments of Your peace to everyone we meet.

We pray for the children who don’t know what tomorrow holds.  Companion God, journey with us.  Guide us when the future seems uncertain and we can’t find our way.

We pray for the children who are waiting.  Waiting for news, for a diagnosis, for a change, for a reason to move forward.  God of Anticipation, prepare us for then, but wait with us for now.

We pray for the children who are sick in body, mind, or spirit.  God of Life, bring healing and strength, hope and relief.

We pray for the children who must grow up too soon.  Playful God, rekindle our wonder and awe.  Even in the face of a troubled world, let us witness Your creativity.

We pray for the children who lead their communities and the world to new horizons.  God of Wisdom, give us the courage to lead and the humility to follow.

We pray for the children who seek forgiveness.  Gracious God, wrap us in Your unconditional love, and empower us to love just as fiercely as You love us.

We pray for the children who hunger and thirst.  Incarnate God, help us to nourish each other’s bodies.

And we pray for the grownups, who are still Your children.  Eternal God, remind us who we are, and whose we are, so that wherever we may go, we can always find ourselves in You.

Now let us pray together the prayer that Jesus taught us to pray…

(Continue with the Lord's Prayer as your denomination knows it.)

Amen.

The Last Day Lament

I led this prayer on the last day of our worship course (the day that we sang all the hymns that the students had written, hence the thematic transition at the end).

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A Seminary Psalm: The Last Day Lament

O God of Time, infinitely and intimately ours,
We are students and faculty facing the end of another semester;
Some of us the end of our journey at Drew.

We are buried beneath literal and digital stacks of paperwork,
Crunching out reports, and recuperating from computer crashes.
We are following guidelines and looking toward deadlines
And yet, despite so many straightforward lines,
We lose ourselves in a whirlwind of expectations.

O God of Grace, whose Book of Life has no column for grades,
We are students and faculty facing constant measurement:
Our mistakes and retakes, our credits and diplomas.
Our publish-or-perish publications, our tenure and evaluations.
We see A's and B's and C's and I's, NR's, and Z's,
And we wonder what they say about us;
About our learning and about our teaching.
We absorb letters on transcripts
As though they spell who we are and what we do.
But our identity is in You, O God:
You call us Beloved.
And our purpose is in You, O God:
You call us to Live, to Learn, and to Love.

Deliver us, O God!
Deliver us from the finality of our finals,
The pressure of our presentations,
The stress of our tests,
And the insidious voice inside us
Insisting that we've come to Drew
For any other reward or reason
Than the one for which You've led us here.

And thank You, God of Song,
That in the midst of our reading and writing,
We can claim this sacred time and space
To give You glory and praise.
Let all that we are and do be a song to You!

Amen.

Prayer for Leaders and Times of Transition

Original Photo
June 11, 2013 in Madison, NJ

Dear God, things are changing.  We are scared.  We are excited.  We are confused.  We are intrigued.  We are angry.  We are passionate.  We don’t even know what we feel.  Reassure us, strengthen us, calm us, enliven us.  Make us the people You hope for us to be.  Remind us that You’ll do some of that work, but that it’s up to us to respond to You.  We simply ask that You keep the conversation going, reminding us to speak the Truth and listen for Your Word.

We pray especially for those in our community who are lost or alone or suffering and for those who have been denied Your love.  Guide us to share Your love so that all may know it well.

We pray for [our outgoing senior pastor and his family] as they continue to serve You in their new church and community.  Let them find there not only work to be done, but also a home.  Give them Your strength and courage and be with them wherever they go.

We pray for [our incoming senior pastor and his family].  Let them find here not only work to be done, but also a home.  Help us to be respectful of the family’s time and space, but relentless in our support.

We pray for President Obama and all of our leaders in government; that they make wise decisions and lead with grace.

And we pray for the nation of Turkey in the midst of the turmoil there, especially these past two weeks.  We pray for the lives who have been lost and for all those left behind to pick up the pieces.  We pray for Prime Minister Erdogan, that he might hear his people; that he might fight for them and not against them.

Just and merciful God, help us to be slow to defame and vilify our leaders - political, religious, and otherwise - but quick to hold them accountable to such values as honesty and compassion.  Let us be honest and compassionate as we recognize our human leaders’ limitations and strengths, just as we recognize our own.  Let us know both justice and mercy.

And God, we trust that You have commissioned our leaders and that they are filled with the Spirit, like Moses and Joshua.  We remember that our leaders are capable of feeling fear and reluctance just as we are - just as Moses and Joshua were - but that, with Your blessing, they are also capable of leading us into the life that You promise us.

We confess that we have not always lived into that promise; we haven’t always believed it or acted like it’s true.  We confess that sometimes we feel distant from You or angry with You or don’t understand Your purposes.  Thank you for not letting that come between us.  Thank You for letting us know Your love and forgiveness even when we have done nothing to deserve them, because that is when we need You most.

In Jesus’ name and by the power of the Spirit, we pray.  Amen.

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Pastoral Prayer offered on June 16, 2013
Chatham United Methodist Church, Chatham, NJ

Liturgy for Change in Pastoral Leadership

This is an original liturgy that I wrote for a worship service in a United Methodist Church. The senior pastor of six years has been appointed to serve elsewhere now, and this will be the first week in his absence before the incoming pastor arrives in July.

The scriptural reading for the day will be Joshua 1:1-9 (NRSV), so the other elements of the service incorporate that text, as well as a nod or two to it being Father's Day and a significant event in the life of the congregation.

Bold font indicates that the entire congregation reads the portion aloud.

Image Source

CALL TO WORSHIP

One: We gather in this place meant for service and sacred conversation.
All: Hear God's word to Moses:
The place where you are standing is holy ground.

One: But this is just one of many places where we can encounter God.
All: Hear God's word to Joshua:
I will be with you wherever you go.

One: We travel near and far, seeking the God who is ever-present.
All: Hear God's word to Moses:
I AM. This is my name forever.

One: We bring with us our fears and our failures.
All: Hear God's word to Joshua:
Be strong and courageous.

One: We trust in God's Word; God's presence and promise.
All: Steadfast and sure, God leads us in every age and season.


MORNING PRAYER

Loving God, you who are our father and our mother, we thank you for giving us life and teaching us to live. We thank you for all of the family and friends, leaders and communities who have nurtured us and guided us. Forgive us when we lose our way. Forgive us when we forget that we belong to each other. Teach us to recognize your presence and to trust in your promise. In the name of your Son, Jesus, we pray. Amen.


PRAYER OF DEDICATION (OFFERING)

Eternal God, you do so much to prepare us for the work you would have us do. You provide resources and leadership. You enliven us with energy and inspire us with ideas. You call on us while we are still flawed and fragile people, yet you sustain us with your Spirit. Let our offerings be part of your healing, life-giving work. And in all things, help us to be ministers to one another and to the people of the world. Amen.

A Litany for Father's Day

I wrote this litany as part of a worship service with a United Methodist congregation on June 16, 2013.

It is loosely inspired by a litany for Mother's Day by Amy Young over at The Messy Middle. Her litany is called The Wide Spectrum of Mothering and included in her "open letter to pastors (a non-mom speaks about Mother's Day)" - which is a great post in and of itself. Click here to check it out.

Image Source (with Free Craft Tutorial)

One: To those who have welcomed a child into your hearts and homes—
All: We celebrate with you.

One: To those who long to be fathers, but who have no children of your own—
All: We long with you.

One: To those who are expectant fathers—
All: We anticipate with you.

One: To those whose fathers are ill in body, mind, or spirit—
All: We sit with you.

One: To those who have lost your fathers or who never got to know your fathers—
All: We grieve with you.

One: And to those who have fathered us by giving us life or teaching us to live—
All: We honor you.

Prayer for the Life's Journey

A prayer I wrote to be read in unison in church, inspired in part by Mark 1:14-20.



O God,

You are not only Parent,
but also Dispatcher, Guide, and Companion.
You have called us into being.
You have called us into becoming.
You have called us to new places and new missions.
We pray that we might be receptive and ready.
We recognize that sometimes
our fear, uncertainty, and pride
can stop us in our tracks
or lead us in the wrong direction.
Please remind us to communicate with You
often along the way:
to speak, and to listen.

Amen.

A Prayer of Reconciliation

This is the prayer on my lips and fingertips this evening. Sometimes I like writing my prayers before or as I say them because something happens in my hands that quiets the "monkey mind" I can experience when praying the traditional, non-tactile way.

Persistent, redeeming God,
remind me that I am never broken
beyond Your repair;
and that those I love
and those I fail to love
are also within Your healing reach.
Thank You for reconciling us to You
and to one another.
Keep inviting us to participate,
for we ache and yearn
not only to be healed
but to heal.

Amen.

For Vinny: Prayers for a Mourning Friend

When I returned from Florida in January, I was waiting in the airport for my rescheduled flight when I met a man in mourning. Being in motion ourselves seems to allow us opportunities to encounter people in need of a consoling passerby.

Last week, I hurried out of my last class to prepare to catch another flight. I was cutting it close. Twenty steps beyond the classroom door, a young man sat on the floor outside of another classroom, his knees up and his head in his hands. Another student and I paused to check on him, and he explained that he just had a headache. We wished him well and let him be.

Within a minute I was down the stairs and out the building, finding another young man walking along the path in the other direction. If it hadn't been for the first man, crouched down and seemingly vulnerable, I may never have noticed the comparably subtle yet pained expression on this second man's face. Just a step past him by the time it registered, I turned and asked if he was all right.

"You don't even know me, and you care." He crumpled onto the pavement.

My cellphone, i.e. sacred time-keeper, had been in-hand to keep me on track. I put it away in my bag and sat down.

Even in hindsight, I can't tell if this was an experience of the Spirit simply overcoming me to care for another, or one in which I needed to bend my own will and halt my own frenzied spirit to heed a call. I only know that, for that moment, the man was Christ to me.

I won't easily forget his furrowed brow or fallen tears as he told me that he had lost his best friend, Sarah. He couldn't explain much beyond that, and for the most part, we let the silences speak for themselves.

Before we parted, I asked if he would like me to continue to pray for him - for peace, comfort, and strength at this difficult time, I said, when he hesitated. He agreed.

And so, with Vinny on my mind for almost a week now, I'm sharing this with others who might send hope and blessings his way, and into the atmosphere in general. What stays with me most about encountering Vinny is how much he seemed to hope that someone would find him, and how he seemed surprised that someone did.

Please keep Vinny and Sarah and their loved ones in your thoughts and prayers, as well as all those who feel alone or don't know whom to seek out. You never know when you might be the person they're seeking. And if you're struggling with something, anything, I pray you'll also find a listening ear just when you need one, be it God, a friend, a family member, or an unsuspecting passerby.

Peace to you.

Whatever You Do

My dear friend's church is one of those which has endured major damage from Hurricane Irene. I offer up this hymn as a prayer for their community and for all those affected by severe weather, systemic problems, and other difficult circumstances - and as a prayer for all those in the position to serve them.

May you realize the blaze of light in even your darkest situation. May you realize the magnitude of the light you have to share.

Blessings, all.

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"Whatever You Do"
(by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette,
inspired by Matthew 25:31-46)

"Whatever you do to the least ones of these,
I tell you in truth that you do unto me!"
Lord Jesus, you taught us! May we learn anew
That when we serve others, we also serve you.

When poor, waiting children pray hunger will end,
When those long-forgotten cry out for a friend,
When thirsty ones whisper, "O Lord, where are you?"
We hear, in their longing, that you’re calling, too.

In prisons and jails, Lord, we find a surprise;
We see you in people whom others despise.
At hospital bedsides we offer a prayer
And find, when we visit the sick, you are there.

When we reach to others in flood-stricken lands
And offer our hearts there, and offer our hands--
We notice, Lord Jesus, the gift of your grace:
We see, in the crowds of the suffering, your face.

"Lord, when did we see you?" Your teaching is clear
That when we serve others, we're serving you here.
And when your church heeds you and helps those in pain,
Then out of the chaos, hope rises again.


Lyrics by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette
Copyright © 2008
Photo of Carolyn from http://www.hymntime.com/

Mercies in Disguise

It is with great sadness that I write that our seminary community has lost a wonderful student, classmate, and friend, Esquire. She extended a warm welcome to me during my first campus visit and helped me figure out that Drew was, in fact, to be my new home. She had a beautiful smile and a strong spirit, which energized and inspired the community. Her absence will be all too noticeable as we return in the fall.

The last time that I saw Esquire was a chance meeting at Seminary Hall; I was taking an intensive course over the break. As we talked, I told her how good it was to see her and how much we missed having her there. That conversation is even more unforgettably poignant to me now; it remains a reminder to me not to leave these simple and yet important things unsaid.


This Sunday, I'll be singing the song "Blessings" in church. It's a wonderful piece that first found me at just the right time (while I was driving along the Interstate, as it were) and spoke to me loud and clear just when so much seemed confusing and unsure.

And so, at this time of mourning, I would like to offer a prayer of gratitude and hope. I believe that sometimes it is the most difficult experiences during which we are most healed, guided, and strengthened, perhaps in ways we do not even understand. And I also believe that we may, for a period, perceive distance from God or question God's will and character before we can (re-)embrace the fullness of the Spirit within us.

My prayer comes in the form of these lyrics written by Laura Story. I will share this piece now and on Sunday in memory of Esquire and in honor of all who still struggle with loss, uncertainty, and the trials of an earthly life. May we be ever more open to God's grace and healing.

(Photos above by Sungchun Ahn, posted to the Drew Worship album, Fall 2010.)




We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

All the while You hear each spoken need
Yet love is way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

What if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough

And all the while You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can't satisfy?

And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

Lyrics and music by Laura Story
© New Spring Publishing

An Independence Day Prayer

In the midst of our celebrations for Independence Day, let us also embrace an attitude of reflection and a spirit of growth.

Here is a prayer of confession from a July 3, 2011 service at a United Methodist Church. I found it poignant and pertinent.

Peace and blessings, everyone.


Source

Dear God, we read our Declaration of Independence with humility today:

We have proven unworthy of freedom and equality, and of having and sharing the rights to life, liberty, and happiness.

We accused Britain of refusing to pass laws to encourage migration to our shores,
but we have done the same thing.

We accused Britain of depriving prisoners of a trial by jury,
but we have done the same thing.

We accused Britain of quartering large bodies of armed troops among us,
but we have done the same thing to others.

We accused Britain of economic tyranny and greed,
and now we see these same forces in ourselves.

We accused the Native Americans of undistinguished destruction,
but we have poisoned the trees and plants of Vietnam.

We accused Britain of aggression and violence,
but we, too, have not always chosen the path of peace.

Dear Lord, You have so richly blessed us,
and, at our best, we have responded to your abundant grace.
Have mercy on us, and heal our blindness and self-deceit,
especially in this time of prayer.

Amen.

Why Don't You Want to Pray?

Wisdom from the film Then She Found Me (2007)


Source

This is not an extraordinarily memorable film, but I do appreciate the following scene in particular. Beautiful exploration of one's relationship to - and distance from - God, especially in times of fear, anger, and frustration.

At the hospital, April (Helen Hunt) is preparing for in vitro fertilization. Her mother Bernice (Bette Midler) accompanies her. It has been established that April is a practicing Jew and Bernice is essentially agnostic.

Bernice [to April]: "Do you want to pray?" [to the medical staff, smiling] "She does that. She prays." [to April] "Want to say a little prayer or something?"

April [curtly]: "No."

Bernice [to the staff]: "I'm so sorry to interrupt..."

April: "What is the matter with you?"

Bernice [to the staff]: "Could you, uh, give us a minute?"

April: "Bernice! Listen to me. Right now."

Bernice: "I know, I'm sorry. Just a minute."

Doctor: "Just find us when you're ready. We'll be around." [Staff exit.]

April [to Bernice, annoyed]: "What?"

Bernice: "Why don't you want to pray?"

April: "What do you care?"

Bernice: "I don't. I don't give a s---. But you do. You told me that. You pray before you eat a bowl of spaghetti! And now, right before you do the most important thing you'll do in your life, suddenly you're not interested?"

April: "This is none of your business." [She walks across the room, but Bernice blocks her.] "Get out of my way."

Bernice: "Say a prayer with me and I will."

April: "I don't want to pray."

Bernice [gently]: "One stupid little prayer."

April: "No." [Bernice blocks her again.] "Move!"

Bernice: "Maybe you just don't want it enough."

April: "You have no idea how badly I want this."

Bernice: "Then why won't you pray? Why?"

April: "Because I'm not going to hand this wish over to some..." [pause] "...whatever it is - who's supposed to be loving. Who..." [silence, then whispers weakly] "I had faith in. I thought... God was... good."

Bernice [gently]: "Maybe God is..."

April: "What?"

Bernice: "Difficult. Awful. Complicated."

April: "Like me?" [pauses in full realization of a past error] "I took the one man on earth who's right for me and I dropped him on his head."

Bernice: "Right. You did."

Just before the procedure, April sings the Shema, a beautiful prayer in Hebrew, thus beginning a journey of reconciliation - with God, with others, and with herself.

A Litany in Celebration of Women

"Jesus did not call women because they volunteered."
- Dr. Heather Elkins (Drew University Chapel Service, March 3, 2011)

In celebration of Women's History Month, our chapel service yesterday consisted of various ways to honor the women of biblical, historical and contemporary Christianity. Besides Dr. Elkins' benediction (as partially quoted above), perhaps my favorite part of the service was the litany, which I wish to share.

This litany comes from the book Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals (Claiborne, et. al., Zondervan 2010). Plain text denotes the speaker/leader while text in bold is spoken by the entire congregation.

We walk in the company of the women who have gone before, mothers of the faith both named and unnamed,
testifying with ferocity and faith to the Spirit of wisdom and healing.
They are the judges, the prophets, the martyrs, the warriors, poets, lovers, and saints who are near to us in the shadow of awareness, in the crevices of memory, in the landscape of our dreams.
We walk in the company of Deborah,
who judged the Israelites with authority and strength.
We walk in the company of Esther,
who used her position as queen to ensure the welfare of her people.
We walk in the company of you whose names have been lost and silenced,
who kept and cradled the wisdom of the ages.
We walk in the company of the woman with the flow of blood,
who audaciously sought her healing and release.
We walk in the company of Mary Magdalene,
who wept at the empty tomb until the risen Christ appeared.
We walk in the company of Phoebe,
who led an early church in the empire of Rome.
We walk in the company of Perpetua of Carthage,
whose witness in the third century led to her martyrdom.
We walk in the company of St. Christina the Astonishing,
who resisted death with persistence and wonder.
We walk in the company of Julian of Norwich,
who wed imagination and theology, proclaiming, "All shall be well."
We walk in the company of Sojourner Truth,
who stood against oppression, righteously declaring in 1852, "Ain't I a woman!"
We walk in the company of the Argentine mothers of the Plaza de Mayo,
who turned their grief to strength, standing together to remember "the disappeared" children of war with holy indignation.
We walk in the company of Alice Walker,
who named the lavender hue of womanish strength.
We walk in the company of you mothers of the faith,
who teach us to resist evil with boldness, to lead with wisdom, and to heal.
Amen.

For Brian: Prayers for a Mourning Traveler

As you may have noticed, I've been on a blogging hiatus during my travels. I'm pleased to report that I'm back, safe and sound, and ready to return to writing - and even strangely excited for classes to begin again.

I would just like to take this moment to ask you to keep a man named Brian Miller in your thoughts and prayers.



I met him in the airport on my way home. My scheduled flight had been cancelled due to the winter wonderland that hit 49 out of 50 states (all but the Sunshine State where we were), and I found myself at the boarding gate the following day, talking to Standby #1 for the new flight.

While I had been waiting for weeks in anticipation of my trip, Brian's had been a spontaneous and somber one. His mother had become ill and died, and he was clearly returning home after an especially trying week. I offered my condolences and a listening ear, feeling inadequate and nonetheless like God was nudging me simply to be there for him.

When the airline staff called Brian over to tell him his seat, he excused himself and headed up to the counter.

I had the sudden feeling that perhaps I had somehow fallen short of what comfort and healing I could have offered to him. I prayed hastily: "God, if there is more that I should say or hear, let him sit by me."

Brian returned in somber triumph, resting again with boarding pass in hand. "I made it. I'm in Row 12. You?"

"Row 32," I read from my own. For a moment I thought, 'Well, he's not next to me.' As though to believe that meant my work here was done.

But inwardly I heard the words, He's sitting next to you now.

And I realized the mistake I'd made. Perhaps my heart was in the right place, and I was all geared up and ready for God to use me in whatever way my inexperienced ministering spirit would manage. But even as I prayed for God's will, I'd already had a preconceived idea of what it would look like.

Sometimes we pray for God to let us touch the lives of other people when we'll find them later. Sometimes they are already there beside us.

And sometimes we pray for God to let us touch the lives of other people. Then they touch ours.

Brian and I talked until it neared the end of the line of passengers and specific rows were being summoned. As I left, I asked if he would like me to put his name on our prayer chain, and he agreed.

Please keep Brian and his loved ones in your prayers, and perhaps say a prayer for all those who are mourning and those who are weary from traveling this season.