Father, into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit

Into your hands I commit my spirit;
    deliver me, Lord, my faithful God.

(Psalm 31:5)

My heart aches on this day, O God,

as I think about the agony of your Son.

He was despised and rejected

by people not unlike me. 

He was oppressed and afflicted,

again, because of people like me.

He was subjected to the greatest agony 

he could ever experience, 

when you turned your back on him:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

He watched his mother watch him die;

no one should ever have to experience that horror, but he did.

O God, forgive me, 

for it was my sin, and the sin of the whole world,

that was placed upon Jesus.

He did not deserve any of the torture or punishment he endured.

He did not deserve it, but he endured it just the same,

because of us (myself included), 

and also for us (myself included).

The agony he experienced

was for the fulfillment of your plan

for the salvation of the world.

He endured the cross,

and every cruel thing that came with it,

because “it is written.”

And at the end, he said unto you,

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”

He lived and died, O God, completely trusting in you.

But for that one moment  in his cry of dereliction,

he had always experienced perfect fellowship with you.

Even in his cry of abandonment,

he did not fail to trust you.

And his last words before he breathed his last,

“Father into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.

When I witness Jesus, who only wanted 

to be faithful to you, even unto death,

I want the same for my life.

Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.

I rest in you, 

for you are righteous and just,

and you are gracious and compassionate,

and you are faithful and true;

there is no shadow of turning with thee.

Your Son has shown me the way:

the way of the cross, to deny myself,

the way of the cross, to give myself for others,

the way of the cross, to show my love for others

the way of the cross, to forgive others,

the way of the cross, to be faithful to you.

Your Son has shown me the way,

and I want to live like him.

Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.

Amen.

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

A Prayer for the Unwillingly Isolated

Where can I go from your Spirit? 

     Where can I flee from your presence? 

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; 

     if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, 

     if I settle on the far side of the sea, 

even there your hand will guide me, 

     your right hand will hold me fast. 

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me 

     and the light become night around me,”

even the darkness will not be dark to you; 

     the night will shine like the day, 

     for darkness is as light to you.

(Psalm 139:7)

O God, since it is true that there is nowhere

that you are not;

and since it is true that no darkness 

can hide any of us from you;

and since it is true that wherever we are,

there you are also – 

Today I pray for those whom the pandemic

has closed off from companionship:

  for patients in hospitals, 

          where no visitors are allowed

  for residents of nursing facilities, 

          where no visitors are allowed

  for people in self-quarantine, 

          where no visitors are allowed

  for the incarcerated, 

          where no visitors are allowed

  for those sick with other conditions, 

          and visitors are not allowed.

It must be a living hell of loneliness, O God,

for those who are not allowed visitors, companionship.

They have no one to tell them it will be okay.

They have no one to hold their hand.

They have no one to comfort them.

So today I pray for those whom the pandemic

has closed off from companionship.

You can visit them, O Lord.

You can fill them with your presence,

  and let them know that they are not alone.

You can calm their fears 

  by giving them your peace.

You can assure them that you will heal them.

You can whisper into their spirit,

"Never will I leave you nor forsake you."

Will you do that, Lord?

Will you assure them that they are not alone?

Will you comfort them?

Will you heal them?

Will you say to them, 
"Peace I give to you. My peace I give to you;
not as the world gives do I give unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled;
neither let it be afraid"?

Will you please let them know how much you love them,

and that there is nothing in all this world

that can take your love away from them?

Will you do that, Lord?

Please?

Will you visit those whom the pandemic

has closed off from companionship?

I know you will, because that’s 

the kind of God you are.

You do care.

And you are able.

And you are present.

Always.

Today I pray for those whom the pandemic

has closed off from companionship.

Amen.

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

And Yet...

In peace I will lie down and sleep,
    for you alone, Lord,
    make me dwell in safety.

(Psalm 4:8)

Another day has passed, O God.

Another sunrise and sunset in the books.

Another day in the world of pandemic:

  To date, more than one million cases of COVID-19

    worldwide – and that just includes confirmed cases.*

  To date, nearly 53,000 people – your children – 

    have died. Again, that just includes confirmed cases.

  6.6 million people filed unemployment claims

    last week in the United States, 

    double from the previous week.

  The models predicting death tolls project more and more 

    every day.

Another day in the new normal:

  terrifying

  confusing

  mind-boggling

  overwhelming

  lonely

  numbing

  frustrating

  …

And yet.

My faith always includes these words: And yet.

Because my faith is in you.

It has been another day in the pandemic.

It has been another day of roller-coaster emotions.

It has been another day of unbearable uncertainty.

And yet, 

I have been filled with your peace;

I have witnessed your goodness; 

I have been assured of your presence;

I have a deep, abiding sense of hope;

I have felt your compassion, and mercy, and love.

Because I can say “And yet...”

and you are the subject of the verbs

  of hope,

  and comfort,

  and assurance,

then I will rest in peace tonight.

The chaos and troubles of the day

will always meet their match in you.

No matter what comes my way,

no matter the obstacles I face,

no matter the challenges that confront me,

I will say, “And yet, God...”

And I know all will be well.

In peace I will lie down in sleep,

     for you alone, Lord,

     make me dwell in safety.

Because at the end of the day,

I can always confess my faith:

“And yet, God...”

And therein I will find peace.

Your peace.

Amen. And good night.

*Figures cited from statistics posted on April 2, 2020. They are changing daily, and not for the better at the time of this blog post.

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