I have been adrift in a sea of
unknowns this summer. Wave after wave of
new challenges, griefs, and general frustration has splashed over the edge of
my little vessel, relentlessly pitching it toward new hopes then plunging it back
down into uncertainty. I know God is at
work, I know He is faithful and true, but my ship is no less buffeted about by
waves and wind simply because those things are so. I would steer with all my
might if only I had a directional heading, but the arrow on the compass God has
provided seems to still be spinning wildly at the moment.
I haven’t been able to think. I haven’t
been able to write. I’ve barely been
able to pray. What is there to say, anyway?
Splat! family
& ministry concerns
Slam! pressing
unanswered questions: Where will we live next month?… where will we work?…
Tumble! a miscarriage
Whoosh! sickness
strikes
Slosh! the car dies
I know this might sound strange to
some, but it is times like these when I find the lectionary surprisingly
helpful. Up until a year ago I had never
attended a service in the Anglican tradition, so I am still new to its rhythms.
And while there’s much that could be said about the place of liturgy in church
services, one of the things that I have found profoundly beautiful in my Anglican
Christian experience is the congregational collects and prayers that we say
together. I like these prayers because they remind me of realities beyond my
current storm. Moreover, in saying them, I join in one voice with thousands of
brothers and sisters who have sailed rough seas before me and knelt down to
utter the self-same words. Most of all, the weekly collects and prayers resonate
with my soul because they give voice to the prayers I wish I could pray. They
are the words that my jumbled thoughts cannot sort out amidst the sound of
crashing waves. When my own mind and heart are too fragmented to formulate what
to pray or where to begin, the collects provide a perspective that helps me
glimpse truth over the looming swells, and find hope in dark places.
The collect below is the one in the church
calendar for the week that we lost the baby. Its timely reminder of God’s
loving and watchful care brought me to tears as I read it after the
miscarriage. He hears, he knows.
LORD God, you who have prepared
for those who love You such good things that surpass our understanding: Pour
into our hearts such love towards You that, loving you above all things, we may
obtain Your promises, which are greater than we can desire; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.
The words of the Prayer of General Thanksgiving invite me to daily
embrace the many blessings, both seen and unseen, that God has brought into my human
experience. It reminds me to be humble
and to treasure Christ as I live to
bring him praise. He is the means of grace and hope of glory.
Almighty
God, Father of all mercies, we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks
for all your goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all whom you have made.
We bless you for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this
life; but above all for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world
by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.
And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies, that with truly
thankful hearts we may show forth your praise, not only with our lips, but in
our lives, by giving up ourselves to your service, and by walking before you in
holiness and righteousness all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to
whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory throughout all ages.
Amen.
