The Longest Night (part 1)

“For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples…” (Isaiah 60:2a)

This morning was a cloudy, wet, gray, dreary morning. So I did what any normal person would do; I got up and said to myself, “It’s a perfect day for pictures.” (To be honest, gray days don’t usually make for the best photography; however, when you want a moody photo, it’s hard to beat a foggy morning) I went to the cemetery down the street from the manse, and snapped a few shots. 

 

Happy Monday, right?

 

Actually, I thought the gray moodiness of the morning was appropriate for today, the winter solstice – our longest night of the year. And for many people, 2020 has been a series of “longest nights”: a worldwide pandemic that hits us in waves; extended isolation from family and friends; national turmoil on the social, racial, and political fronts; economic uncertainty… I’m sure you can add your own reasons why this year seems to be one prolonged “longest night.”

 

As people of faith, it’s important to recognize the stark reality of the darkness in which we find ourselves. A quick reading of Scripture – especially the psalms – will reveal that it is perfectly normal for us to lament the darkness that enshrouds us. I say this because this time of year we need to remember that not everybody is merry and bright. For many, this will be the first Christmas without loved ones. For others, this will be the first Christmas since their family was fractured by divorce. For still others, this season adds salt to the wounds of their soul because, already struggling just to keep a roof over their heads, they cannot afford to buy gifts for their children. And for many, life itself is simply a struggle they face every day.

 

So, while a good number of us are finding ways to inject happiness into the strange and challenging year that 2020 has been, please be mindful that there are many others for whom the nights are always long. Find ways to reach out to them, and let them know they are not alone. Send them a note, call them, text them, take a small gift to them -- anything to let them know that someone is with them in the darkness.

 

Normally, I try to end on a high note. After all, that’s what we’re told to do, right – be upbeat, be optimistic? But today, I think I’m just going to be mindful of the darkness, because it is important that we not deny the reality of the darkness that enshrouds our world. Darkness isn’t all bad; if nothing else, darkness convinces us that we need a Savior, someone who can dispel the darkness with Light.

 

And on that note, I’m simply going to end by saying, “to be continued…”

To the God Who Hears Our Cries

Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;
     Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
    to my cry for mercy...

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
    and in his word I put my hope.

I wait for the Lord
    more than watchmen wait for the morning,
    more than watchmen wait for the morning.

(Psalm 130:1-2, 5-6)

Surely you hear the cries of your people, O Lord.

Surely you hear the cries of

  anguish,

    despair,

      longing,

        confusion,

          fear.

Surely you hear the cries of

  the unemployed,

    the lonely,

      the sick,

        the poor in our communities,

          the business owners.

Surely you hear the cries of

  overwhelmed leaders,

    exhausted medical personnel,

      school children and their teachers and administrators,

        frustrated shoppers among empty shelves,

          families forced into separation and isolation.

Out of the depths we cry to you, O Lord;

    Lord, hear our voice.

Let your ears be attentive

     to our cries for mercy.

We wait for you to answer us.

We wait for you to

  heal us,

  restore us,

  comfort us,

  strengthen us,

  fill us with your presence.

We wait, O God,

anticipating your goodness and mercy.

Because that’s who you are:

Gracious and compassionate, 

abounding in steadfast love.

We wait, as intently as the night-watch 

waits for the morning

with deep longing,

awaiting the first signs of dawn,

and the new day.

Out of the depths we cry out to you, O Lord.

Dispel the darkness, we pray.

Shine your light,

and bring us to a new day.

Amen.

During the season of Lent, I am "Praying with David," using prayers found in the psalms as inspiration for personal prayers.

I Went to Church, But It Wasn't the Same

How lovely is your dwelling place, 

     Lord Almighty! 

My soul yearns, even faints, 

     for the courts of the Lord; 

my heart and my flesh cry out 

     for the living God.

Even the sparrow has found a home, 

    and the swallow a nest for herself, 

where she may have her young

     a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, 

     my King and my God. 

Blessed are those who dwell in your house; 

     they are ever praising you.

(Psalm 84:1-4)

I went to church, O Lord.

But it wasn’t the same.

The pews were empty, 

the sanctuary an echo chamber.

I know, we’re supposed to be 

  sequestered

    quarantined

      socially distant.

It’s for our good, for the health of your people.

It is right for us to stay away from each other.

It’s right, 

but it certainly doesn’t feel right.

We need each other, O God.

Your people – your church – we need each other.

Nevertheless, I went to church,

and I prayed,

and I sang,

and I preached. 

But it wasn’t the same.

I miss your people, O God.

I miss my people, my flock.

I know, the sanctuary isn’t my church.

But it becomes my church

when your people gather together

  to worship

    to pray

      to to sing

        to break bread

          to love one another.

My soul yearns, even faints,

     for the courts of the Lord.

Because it’s in the courts of the Lord

where I experience church

with my people, my flock.

I cherish my people enough

to make them stay away

until this virus passes.

But I miss their fellowship,

their friendship,

their encouragement,

their presence.

Blest be the tie that binds

our hearts in Christian love

the fellowship of kindred minds

is like to that above.

Hasten the day, O Lord,

when your people can gather together

once again

  to worship

    to sing

      to pray

        to break bread

          to love one another.

While we are absent 

one from another, O Lord,

please come to us,

abide with us,

fill us with your presence.

If we cannot dwell together

in your house,

please come into our hearts

and dwell with us.

I am confident of this, precious Lord:

I will rejoice in the day

when I can gather with your people – 

with my people, my flock – 

  and worship

    and pray

      and sing

        and break bread

          and love one another.

Blessed are those who dwell

in your house, O Lord.

Amen.

During the season of Lent, I am "Praying with David," using prayers from the psalms as inspiration for personal prayer.

Restore us, O God

Hear us, Shepherd of Israel, 

     you who lead Joseph like a flock. 

You who sit enthroned between the cherubim, 

     shine forth before [your people]. 

Awaken your might; 

     come and save us. 

Restore us, O God; 

     make your face shine on us, 

     that we may be saved.

(Psalm 80:1-3)

We need you, O Lord.

The truth is, we always need you,

for it is in you alone

that we live and move

and have our being.

We always need you,

but sometimes the need seems

more urgent and acute to us.

Now is one of those times.

Around the world people live in fear and dread

of coronavirus COVID-19.

Invisible to the eye,

it travels from person to person

with frightening ease.

It infects, 

    debilitates,

       sometimes it kills.

COVID-19 has shut down the world.

Literally.

We really, really need you, O God.

Hear us, O Shepherd of Israel,

    awaken your might, come and save us.

Please.

Have mercy, O Lord.

Especially on those who are most vulnerable:

              the elderly

        those with other health risks

             medical and health personnel

     the working parents whose children

     are now out of school

       the workers who are or who will be out of a job

   teachers and school staff 

       children, because they are ALWAYS vulnerable

      business owners who may not reopen their doors

    the poor, who have less access to health care

Have mercy, O Lord,

on all of us, on the whole world.

We pray to you, with all urgency:

   Heal the sick.

   Stop this vicious virus.

   Protect those who provide care.

   Guide our leaders with wisdom.

   Calm the anxiety in our hearts.

   Stop the panic and hoarding.

   Restore the economies of the world.

Awaken your might; come and save us.

   Cultivate compassion and kindness in our hearts.

   Show us how to reach out in love and mercy.

   Give us your peace,

   the peace that passes all understanding.

We need you, O God.

We really need you.

Restore us, O God.

Make your face to shine upon us, we pray;

   look with favor upon us – 

   upon all of us, the whole world – 

   that we will be saved.

Thank you, O Lord, in advance.

Because we know you will help us.

We know you will save us.

Thank you.

Amen.

During the season of Lent, I am "Praying with David," using prayers from the psalms as inspiration for personal prayers.