Father, we welcome you.
We greet you as though you are king.
We lay our palm branches before you
in hopes that you will save us.
Save us from our circumstances.
Make our lives here on Earth easier.
We have things we need you to do.
Father, we confess that we do not understand.
Where is your white horse?
What are you waiting for?
Father, we have been inconvenienced for too long.
Father, it is time.
We have things we need you to do.
Father, we confess that we are confused.
If you have come to save us,
and you have come in peace,
why are you so angry?
You turn over our tables and call us thieves?
What are you doing?
This is not what we need you to do.
Father, we confess that we stand with the crowd.
We hope that you can’t hear our voice as we yell.
Father we are embarrassed that we turn so quickly.
We don’t understand.
We are confused.
This is not what we thought would happen.
We had things we needed you to do.
Father, forgive us.
We have our own agenda.
We welcome you for selfish gain.
Change our hearts, Father.
Save us now.
Bring us peace
by killing the hostility that divides us from you.
Part the waters.
Tear the curtain.
All we need you to do
is rescue us.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Lenten Confession #5- Confession of forgetfulness
Father, we do not remember.
We stand on dry ground,
purposefully unaware of how we came to this place.
We forge ahead with no concern.
You swallow up our enemies behind us,
and we hardly notice.
Father, we are preoccupied with us.
We live thanklessly.
Expecting instead of humbly hoping and praying for your hand in our lives.
You are our salvation, yet we do not speak of you.
We have more pressing matters at hand.
Our words can be a fountain of life,
sharing the memories of how you have delivered us.
But instead our words are shallow and of no significance.
Father, we want to remember.
We want to share what you have given us.
We want your Kingdom to come,
on Earth as it is in heaven.
But we get lost.
Our words can be a fountain of life,
sharing the memories of how you have delivered us.
Give us the words, O Father.
May we sing the song of Moses.
May we remember where we have been.
May we live purposefully aware of how we came to this place.
May we forge ahead without worry.
May we notice.
May we live thankfully, humbly praying for your hand in our lives.
You are our salvation.
May we speak of you.
There is no more pressing matter at hand.
May our words be a fountain of life,
sharing the memories of how you have delivered us.
We stand on dry ground,
purposefully unaware of how we came to this place.
We forge ahead with no concern.
You swallow up our enemies behind us,
and we hardly notice.
Father, we are preoccupied with us.
We live thanklessly.
Expecting instead of humbly hoping and praying for your hand in our lives.
You are our salvation, yet we do not speak of you.
We have more pressing matters at hand.
Our words can be a fountain of life,
sharing the memories of how you have delivered us.
But instead our words are shallow and of no significance.
Father, we want to remember.
We want to share what you have given us.
We want your Kingdom to come,
on Earth as it is in heaven.
But we get lost.
Our words can be a fountain of life,
sharing the memories of how you have delivered us.
Give us the words, O Father.
May we sing the song of Moses.
May we remember where we have been.
May we live purposefully aware of how we came to this place.
May we forge ahead without worry.
May we notice.
May we live thankfully, humbly praying for your hand in our lives.
You are our salvation.
May we speak of you.
There is no more pressing matter at hand.
May our words be a fountain of life,
sharing the memories of how you have delivered us.
Lenten Confession #4- We are at the wrong table.
The foolish woman invites us in.
Her house void of light and heavy with sin.
The table is set.
She serves only bread and water,
but it appears enticing,
and calls to us like the forbidden fruit.
We eat in darkness,
hiding what we do and who we are.
We settle for less.
Is it because we are selfish?
Is it because we are prideful?
Or is it simply because we do not know how to stop?
Lady wisdom invites us in.
Her house, a temple to God.
The table is set.
She serves meat and wine.
A banquet for even the least of these.
Father we wish to dine with there.
We desire instruction.
We long for wisdom.
We want to humbly take our place,
knowing that we do not deserve a seat.
Father,
give us the courage to walk past the foolish invitations.
They are loud. They are powerful. They are everywhere.
We admit we are comfortable in our own sin,
and we enjoy being at the wrong table.
We obviously do not fear you.
Show us your power, Father.
Show us through your forgiveness,
your mercy,
and your grace.
Guide us to your table, Father.
Humble us.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us. We are sinners.
Her house void of light and heavy with sin.
The table is set.
She serves only bread and water,
but it appears enticing,
and calls to us like the forbidden fruit.
We eat in darkness,
hiding what we do and who we are.
We settle for less.
Is it because we are selfish?
Is it because we are prideful?
Or is it simply because we do not know how to stop?
Lady wisdom invites us in.
Her house, a temple to God.
The table is set.
She serves meat and wine.
A banquet for even the least of these.
Father we wish to dine with there.
We desire instruction.
We long for wisdom.
We want to humbly take our place,
knowing that we do not deserve a seat.
Father,
give us the courage to walk past the foolish invitations.
They are loud. They are powerful. They are everywhere.
We admit we are comfortable in our own sin,
and we enjoy being at the wrong table.
We obviously do not fear you.
Show us your power, Father.
Show us through your forgiveness,
your mercy,
and your grace.
Guide us to your table, Father.
Humble us.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us. We are sinners.
Lenten Confession #3- Confession that we are not listening
Father,
to fear you is to hate evil.
But we no longer fear you.
We do not hate evil,
we love it.
We embrace it.
We pursue it.
We tune out your voice, oh God, to hear what this world offers.
Father, you hate pride,
but we are proud.
We need to be recognized.
We need to be right.
We tune out your voice, oh God, as we listen for our own.
Father, you hate arrogance,
but we believe in ourselves more than we believe in you.
We work as if everything depends on us.
We provide for ourselves.
We act as if we do not need you.
We tune out your voice. We do not need your help.
Father, you hate perverted speech,
but we speak freely.
We condemn others.
We twist your words for personal gain.
We defile things that you create,
We can not hear your voice over our own laughter.
Is there still hope for us Father?
We embrace the things you hate.
We revel in our sin.
Father help us to hear your voice again.
May your wisdom be our guide.
Father what chance do we have outside of your instruction?
We are listening Father, speak to us…
to fear you is to hate evil.
But we no longer fear you.
We do not hate evil,
we love it.
We embrace it.
We pursue it.
We tune out your voice, oh God, to hear what this world offers.
Father, you hate pride,
but we are proud.
We need to be recognized.
We need to be right.
We tune out your voice, oh God, as we listen for our own.
Father, you hate arrogance,
but we believe in ourselves more than we believe in you.
We work as if everything depends on us.
We provide for ourselves.
We act as if we do not need you.
We tune out your voice. We do not need your help.
Father, you hate perverted speech,
but we speak freely.
We condemn others.
We twist your words for personal gain.
We defile things that you create,
We can not hear your voice over our own laughter.
Is there still hope for us Father?
We embrace the things you hate.
We revel in our sin.
Father help us to hear your voice again.
May your wisdom be our guide.
Father what chance do we have outside of your instruction?
We are listening Father, speak to us…
Friday, March 2, 2012
Lenten Confession #2- Confession of (a lack of) Faith
Father, as we walk the dirty streets of the Mathare Valley
and we see so many living with so little,
we are surprised.
Not surprised by the conditions in which they live,
but the conditions of their hearts.
They are filled with so much joy,
all because of the hope they find in you.
If we really believe Father, why are we surprised?
Father, our Maasai brothers and sisters want for nothing.
Your creation supplies their every need.
Even when they don’t know or recognize you,
you take care of them.
And Father,
we stand in awe as we see you moving across the Mara,
opening the eyes and hearts of the Maasai to you,
the giver of every good and perfect gift.
Those who were so far away,
you are drawing close.
If we really believe Father, why are we surprised?
Father, you have promised to take care of us.
The birds of the air and the lilies of the field are well kept,
and yet how much more valuable are we,
who were created in your own image?
Father, when you keep your word,
we call it a miracle.
We are surprised,
and we stand in awe of your power.
If we really believe Father, why are we surprised?
Father, we are often faithless.
We are more concerned with the conditions in which we live
than the conditions of our hearts.
Father you supply our every need,
yet we live in want.
Change our hearts, oh Father,
fill our smiles and our faces with the joy of knowing you.
May your spirit move among us
and dwell in our hearts.
And Father, when we are refreshed and renewed
we should not be surprised...
Because if we really believe Father, why would we be?
and we see so many living with so little,
we are surprised.
Not surprised by the conditions in which they live,
but the conditions of their hearts.
They are filled with so much joy,
all because of the hope they find in you.
If we really believe Father, why are we surprised?
Father, our Maasai brothers and sisters want for nothing.
Your creation supplies their every need.
Even when they don’t know or recognize you,
you take care of them.
And Father,
we stand in awe as we see you moving across the Mara,
opening the eyes and hearts of the Maasai to you,
the giver of every good and perfect gift.
Those who were so far away,
you are drawing close.
If we really believe Father, why are we surprised?
Father, you have promised to take care of us.
The birds of the air and the lilies of the field are well kept,
and yet how much more valuable are we,
who were created in your own image?
Father, when you keep your word,
we call it a miracle.
We are surprised,
and we stand in awe of your power.
If we really believe Father, why are we surprised?
Father, we are often faithless.
We are more concerned with the conditions in which we live
than the conditions of our hearts.
Father you supply our every need,
yet we live in want.
Change our hearts, oh Father,
fill our smiles and our faces with the joy of knowing you.
May your spirit move among us
and dwell in our hearts.
And Father, when we are refreshed and renewed
we should not be surprised...
Because if we really believe Father, why would we be?
Friday, February 24, 2012
Lenten Confession #1- Indifference
Father, we have food on our tables,
so we do not notice that others live hungry.
We have a roof over our head and clothes on our back,
but we remain unaware of our brothers and sisters who live without.
Lord have mercy on us, for we choose not to care
Father, we have heard the good news
and then conformed it to our own agenda.
We read about our role in your kingdom
but we ignore what makes us uncomfortable.
Lord have mercy on us, for we choose not to care
Father, you spoke the world into existence,
your voice introduced beauty,
your words bring hope and peace.
But Father, we have spoken selfishly.
Our words do harm and bring division.
We tear others down in search for our worth.
Lord have mercy on us, for we choose not to care
Father, wash away our indifference.
Give us awareness.
Teach us to care.
Father we have so far to go.
Have mercy on us, for we choose not to care.
so we do not notice that others live hungry.
We have a roof over our head and clothes on our back,
but we remain unaware of our brothers and sisters who live without.
Lord have mercy on us, for we choose not to care
Father, we have heard the good news
and then conformed it to our own agenda.
We read about our role in your kingdom
but we ignore what makes us uncomfortable.
Lord have mercy on us, for we choose not to care
Father, you spoke the world into existence,
your voice introduced beauty,
your words bring hope and peace.
But Father, we have spoken selfishly.
Our words do harm and bring division.
We tear others down in search for our worth.
Lord have mercy on us, for we choose not to care
Father, wash away our indifference.
Give us awareness.
Teach us to care.
Father we have so far to go.
Have mercy on us, for we choose not to care.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Runaway Train
Hey, remember when I lived in Houston and I was training for a marathon? I decided one day that I would start running so I stepped out the door and did two miles in fifteen minutes. Tonight was very different.
This is not a New Year’s resolution. If I call it that I will be done by the middle of next week. I have my eyes set on three 5Ks this spring. One each in March, April, and May. Easy. I have until March to make myself respectable. So, I am running again.
I want to finish a 5K in 21 minutes. I want to run a 10K next fall. I want to eventually run in one marathon. Maybe in a city like Seattle or Portland. After that, I want to run half-marathons in other cool cities like Phoenix or Nashville. I want to have an unlimited supply of race t-shirts. This time around I am setting some goals along the way. If I have something specific to prepare for, I will do much better. First step 5K.
Actually, first step was buying the shoes. I bought a new pair of running shoes this afternoon. Helpy Helperton sold them to me at a running store in Folsom. The shoes are nice. Very light. Very comfortable. Helpy asked me what my goals were as I was trying on my shoes. I told him the plan was to start with a few 5Ks and end up with one marathon under my belt. He tried to encourage me by telling me I would be there before I knew it. Maybe he doesn’t realize how much I like Lucky Charms.
As I finished my short run/walk tonight, I put my hands on top of my head and tried to catch my breath. I looked up at the sky and remembered similar nights in Texas. For a split second, I forgot the past three and a half years. I felt like I was finishing one of my six mile runs in Kingwood. It felt good, in a painful sort of way. It felt familiar. I remembered why I started running back then. I remembered how much I liked it.
Tonight was a baby step. It was tough, but it was fun. When Helpy was encouraging me about the marathon this afternoon, he asked, “How do you eat an elephant?” I laughed. And then tonight I took my first bite.
This is not a New Year’s resolution. If I call it that I will be done by the middle of next week. I have my eyes set on three 5Ks this spring. One each in March, April, and May. Easy. I have until March to make myself respectable. So, I am running again.
I want to finish a 5K in 21 minutes. I want to run a 10K next fall. I want to eventually run in one marathon. Maybe in a city like Seattle or Portland. After that, I want to run half-marathons in other cool cities like Phoenix or Nashville. I want to have an unlimited supply of race t-shirts. This time around I am setting some goals along the way. If I have something specific to prepare for, I will do much better. First step 5K.
Actually, first step was buying the shoes. I bought a new pair of running shoes this afternoon. Helpy Helperton sold them to me at a running store in Folsom. The shoes are nice. Very light. Very comfortable. Helpy asked me what my goals were as I was trying on my shoes. I told him the plan was to start with a few 5Ks and end up with one marathon under my belt. He tried to encourage me by telling me I would be there before I knew it. Maybe he doesn’t realize how much I like Lucky Charms.
As I finished my short run/walk tonight, I put my hands on top of my head and tried to catch my breath. I looked up at the sky and remembered similar nights in Texas. For a split second, I forgot the past three and a half years. I felt like I was finishing one of my six mile runs in Kingwood. It felt good, in a painful sort of way. It felt familiar. I remembered why I started running back then. I remembered how much I liked it.
Tonight was a baby step. It was tough, but it was fun. When Helpy was encouraging me about the marathon this afternoon, he asked, “How do you eat an elephant?” I laughed. And then tonight I took my first bite.
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