Preacher's Wednesday Prayer

Lord, it’s Wednesday again, and even

though the weight of last Sunday has

scarcely been lifted from us,

next Sunday is barreling down on us. 

Help us, as we address the mountainous

task of preparing for next Sunday’s worship

to have energy for and awareness of

all the valley-time in between. 

As we engage our parishioners in

the midst of their daily lives, may we

have passion and compassion that moves us

to lift them and their circumstances

into your very presence. 

For all those whose lives have been invaded

by chaos, we pray for courage– both theirs

and ours– to face the scattering darkness

with ultimate courage in the One

whose light makes darkness scatter. 

In the face of pressure to succumb

to lesser images, we seek an anchoring sense

of our connectedness to the wholeness

and holiness of your face. 

Through all the pedantic passing of

mesmerizing time that woos us into

comatose unawareness, give us a glimpse of

sacred ordinariness in each face and moment.

As Sunday’s shadow touches the horizon,

may we all– worshipers and preacher– 

be swept– body, mind, and spirit–

into our ordained place in your realm.

© 2012 Todd Jenkins

Today

Neither past nor future

truly belongs to us; only today.

Yesterday was once ours,

but no matter what

we did or didn’t do,

what we remember,

to what we paid attention,

what we missed,

it is gone; we must let it go.

Tomorrow is a dream— possibility—

but not yet a reality;

something we can anticipate,

for which we can prepare,

but not a place we can be.

Greatest antidote to yesterday’s

regret, tomorrow’s worry:

total participation in today.

What will you do with your

one true possession, here and now,

while you are in the only place

that’s yours—the present?

© 2012 Todd Jenkins

Pediatric Wing Prayer

A prayer holds children, high but secure

in hands open and strengthened by practice

up in the sky, above where giraffes forage

to the place where it seems God’s vision rests.

The hands are silent, but their voice calls out

“See here!  See these children of your own making!

See their parents, siblings, friends, neighbors.”

At this altitude, air is thin and breathing measured;

trade-off for the solid security of sea-level;

but there are alternative forms of oxygenation:

rainbow breaths that infuse spirits, fuel imagination;

screens where dreams can replay over and over,

feeding on prayers, promises, power.

The silent voice of uplifted hands demands more than vision;

memory, too, and covenant are part of the plaintive call.

“This is not the ‘Do not be afraid.’ of your surprise intrusion;

it is the antithesis: the summons for you to boldly arrive into

the midst of the fear, anger, and confusion;

the plea from all who are aware, to sense your presence,

feel your comfort, especially here amidst the chaos.”

“Answers seem to be what we want,

but seldom what we receive.

Take what spills from our deep places:

rage, fright, disbelief, despair;

know that we direct it toward you because

you are the one who already knows–

one whose love for us cannot be diminished by it.

Give us what we need: strength for the hour’s tasks,

courage not to flinch in anguish’s face,

hope that darkness will not– cannot – overcome,

light to show at least the next step on the journey,

attentiveness to the joy of each moment,

peace that passes understanding,

new breath to fill us in these thin places.  Amen.”

© 2012 Todd Jenkins

expectations

© 2012 Todd Jenkins

Redemption

When ignorance is allowed

to breed with fear unhindered,

feral generation of haters

is unleashed on the world:

proliferating non-native species,

few natural predators;

feeding on empty-caloried

distortions, deliberate deception.

Redemption’s gift:

bathed in wild-eyed faith,

rinsed in unadulterated hope,

scented with unconditional love.

In these three alone,

immersed in community,

lie universe’s dream,

grace's transformation.

© 2012 Todd Jenkins

Isaac's Song

Tune: Lafferty (“Seek Ye First”)

Life on the edge is always a risky bet

Moving from fear to need.

From Ur to Canaan, Sarah and Abe

Tried hard to help God succeed.

As biological clock raced by

Sister and wife interchanged.

Finally, Hagar seemed to be last hope;

Ishmael’s birth was arranged.

God’s plan was larger than anyone knew

Including Ur’s favored son.

Nursery at 90 is wildly absurd;

God’s sense of humor had won.

Laughed when he told them at Mamre’s oaks

“Get ready for your first child!”

Lost her false teeth as she cackled in hope;

God’s joke is truly wild!

Nonagenarian parenthood is tough

No matter what circumstance.

Ishmael and Isaac got along so well,

Sarah gave Hagar a chance.

Then came the day when fear reared its ugly head;

Sarah’s rage running wild.

How do you think it made Abraham feel

To banish his firstborn child?

Nightmares are made of things just such as this:

Hearing God’s voice made him quake,

“Take your son Isaac to sacrificing grounds;

There take his life for my sake.”

Isaac said to his father Abraham

“Something I don’t understand:

We’ve got the fire for the sacrifice;

Who will provide the ram?

Abraham said, “I have lived my whole life

Trying to walk by God’s side.

When my life’s path has seemed most dark and bleak

I’ve found that God will provide.

Stacking the wood brought midnight so near;

Abraham’s heart nearly failed.

When the ram’s cry broke into the eerie black,

All knew that love had prevailed!

© 2012 Todd Jenkins

Fini

I’ve decided who you are,

for what you stand,

even what you’re worth.

Oh, we’ve never met;

I don’t know much about you;

never asked you anything.

But I’ve categorized, classified,

stuffed you in a pigeon-hole,

with what I fear and don’t know.

Potential for our relationship

never had a chance;

end came before beginning.

I’ll never know what I missed,

but I am safe, secure;

little else matters.

I watch you through

protective window of my world;

sometimes wondering, mostly fearing.

One day all of this will be gone;

then I’ll go to be with Jesus.

I’ll tell him about you,

reminding him I prayed for you,

pitied you, kept my distance.

Surely he’ll understand.

Not!

© 2012 Todd Jenkins