Thursday, September 24, 2015

DAILY PRAYER: Matins, 9/24/15

A new practice for me, here, is the writing of a prayer each morning.  I share them, as often as I can, on this blog.  I hope you'll take time to sign on, if you wish, by going to the "JOIN THIS SITE" button on the low-right-side of the blog itself.  That way, you'll receive the link-prayer as it comes on line each morning.

A daily prayer for the people, ministries and concerns of Peace United Church of Christ:

STILL SMALL VOICE, sweet breath on a soft wind: we wait for you today in the ordinary places of our lives, in the moments before coffee is served, in the workroom where a copier whirs, along the way to school by bike.  As we wait and watch for you, so you will watch for us, tending to our wounds, nurturing our dreams, cherishing our beauty and humanity.  We praise you, we thank you for your constant care, your unswerving love.
We pray for those we will encounter today, for the new friends we'll meet in new places, for the familiar faces we hope not to take for granted, especially for the lonely and poor.  Make us instruments, flowing channels of your peace, your encouragement, your mercy.  This is our vocation.  And we pray for devotion to it.
Looking to Jesus this morning, to his heart and his faith and his example, we pray for a spirit of forgiveness this day.  Bless us with initiative.  Empower us with imagination.  Stir in us visions of holy reconciliation between peoples, nations, among families, within families, and in our churches.  Make us instruments, flowing channels of your peace.
Swell with healing in the hearts of those who suffer pain or physical weariness today: especially in Nancy Walker, and Derek Appleton, and Chuck Larsen, and Bill Skyles, and Helen Aylsworth.  May each know the loving presence of Christ, the sweet assurance of grace and the surrounding companionship of prayer.
And draw near, too, to those who weep and mourn: especially to Heidi Simonson and the friends of Shirlee Thorne, and all who've lost loved ones in war and tragedy this summer.  May your generous, healing peace work its slow and certain way into their futures.  And may the church be true to its hopeful, compassionate calling as friends.
Again, in our hearts, we draw near to the fears and journeys of refugees and migrants everywhere: especially, those fleeing war and poverty and famine in Syria.  May your powerful love open the minds of the nations privileged to the needs of our sisters, our brothers, our children.  May we practice hospitality even and especially when cautious voices caution inaction.  And may we, the lovers of peace, do all that we can to advance peace in Syria and around the world.
In the grain of sand, you are, O God.  In the leaf, the single leaf on the quiet tree, you are, O God.  In the voices of children, in the songs sung by elders, in the prayer of the wandering one without a place to rest his head, you are.  We watch, we wait, we look for today.  And you are near.  Amen.