A Liturgy for When my Schedule is too Tight

Dearest Lord,

Why? How? Father, you have asked me to leave space, to leave room for you. Where did that room go?

Lord, I am overwhelmed. I am too busy, too tired, drowning. The day ends and there is nothing left. Nothing is left for me. Nothing is left for you. I am drained.

How do I manage this life that is being thrown at me? What choices can I make to follow you better? Where do I turn when the wheel is spinning too fast? How, Lord, can I stop the cycle?

Father God, help me. I want to live as you desire. I want space and scripture and margin and sabbath. I want peace and rest and joy and love. I need you and I need your word. You have created me; you know everything about me. Please, Lord, instill in me a desire to change, to slow, to stop.

Give me wisdom, Lord. Help me listen. Tell me when to say no. Allow me to feel your presence encouraging me to put down the device or to stop saying yes to everything, even good things.

Father, like a child, your child, I need guidance. I am at the end of my rope and I don’t know where to turn next. I am worn. I am weary. I am tired. I wasn’t there when you created the earth. I often do not know of your ways. But I know that they are good. Your ways are good and true and higher than my ways. My way isn’t working, and now I’m asking you to instill in me yours. Your truth. Your plan.

Ease this daily struggle. Help me to create margin. Help me to rest. Give me time. Give me grace. Give me courage to say no. Allow my family and friends the pleasure of my presence, and allow me theirs. As I begin to see what can be, help me to desire it more.

Thank you, Lord, for your constant presence in my life. May I recognize it. May I be encouraged by it. May I know it. May I feel it.

Grant me peace.

A Liturgy for Beginning a New Year

Oh dear Father,

I look ahead, but first I look behind.

Remind me, Lord. Tell me. May I acknowledge the past year?

How many? How much? How often?

How many times did I listen, truly listen, to the person that you placed in front of me? How many times did I give to those who asked and not turn away those who were in need? How many people were made better because of something that I did or said?

How much did I give? How much did I receive? How much did I learn, grow, fast, pray, question, or hear?

How often did I grasp the lesson that I was being taught? How often did I care? How often did I disciple, encourage, model, teach, or be present?

Father, I want to remember the good I’ve been blessed to be a part of. I want to hold on to the ways in which I’ve been shaped and formed by you and others. I want to be thankful for the moments that I made the right choice, said the right thing, helped the right person.

But Lord, I am also so aware that all year long, all 52 weeks, all of the plain old Tuesdays, I have desperately needed your grace. I have needed your mercy. I have needed your love. Last year I needed you as my guide. You were guiding; was I following?

Father, now I look ahead. The party is over. The food has been eaten. The friends have been hugged. The toasts have been said. Our ways have been parted. My kitchen is a mess, yet I look ahead.

This year, this precious year, what will it bring? I search not for a resolution, but a formation. A transformation. Make me better. Mold me to be more like you. Open my eyes to need. Open my heart to others. Let my life be used. And changed. Grant me opportunities to be your hands and feet. Give me reasons to be challenged. Don’t allow me to choose to remain the same. Though I don’t know if I will be given 12 more months or 52 more weeks or 365 more days, if I am, if you choose to give me one more year of life, let me not waste even one minute. And when I do, thank you for the grace and mercy that will bring me back to your plan and your ways.

A Liturgy for Sabbath

Lord,

I’m not great, Heavenly Father, at this idea that you call Sabbath.

Our world, it moves so fast.

We move so fast.

I move so fast.

You ask me to slow, to stop, to think, to be.

I’m trying. I am. I want to Sabbath. I want to Sabbath well.

Help me, Father, to listen.

Help me to stop.

Take away all distractions. My phone, my computer, my schedule, my worry and hurry, let them all belong to you today.

Take each piece, each simple component of my day, and make it yours. Make my day your day. Give me rest, true rest today.

Let the others in my household know peace today, as well. Let them relish in the stillness. Let them know you more today. Watch us and guide us as we do our best to put you first in all things. As we listen and obey your command for rest.

Let your way become my way today. Let you and I become one. Let your thoughts become my thoughts and your rest become my rest. May the stillness not be difficult, but delightful. May I spend my day of Sabbath enclosed in the Peace that passes all understanding knowing that your way is best.

A Liturgy for Moments of Anxiety

Lord,

I am anxious.

I feel it in my bones.

Why, o Lord?

Why is my heart beating so fast? Why does everything feel strange?

Tell me that I can do this, Lord.

When my heart is racing and my mind is racing and my thoughts are coming at me a mile a minute. When I feel inadequate and like I can’t measure up. When I feel like everything I do is wrong and everyone knows. When it seems like everyone is staring yet no one cares.

Then.

Then, in that moment Lord, when everything begins to collide, grant me peace. Please, good and gracious God, be merciful with me. Allow me to breathe. Allow me to rest in you. Give me a peace that passes all understanding. Give me a moment of tranquility in my life. I desire, dear Jesus, to feel the rest from my wandering brain and anxious heart. A rest that I know can only come from you.

God, sometimes I feel like a fraud. I feel like I’m a fake and soon everyone will know. Everyone will know that sometimes the person you created me to be fails. I falter and I freeze. I fear. I fear too much. I fear irrationally. I fear for things that will never come to pass.

Help me to realize that I am enough. With your grace and the Holy Spirit, I am enough. With the realization that I am yours for eternity, I am enough. I alone am not enough, but with you I am capable of all things.

Continue to guide me. Continue to help me feel capable. Continue to grant me that peace that I feel coming from you. But, more than anything, help me to see those blessings. Help me to see every step that you take towards me beckoning me to come and rest in you. And let me rest, dear God, let me rest.

 

A Liturgy for Doing the Dishes

Our Good and Gracious God

Enthroned above.

May I first say thanks. May I first express my gratitude to you for every ordinary moment in life. As I do this, as I thank you, with each moment I find mundane, help me to see it anew as extraordinary.

How extraordinary it is, in fact, to wash these dishes. How beautiful to view the plate that you have given me as it reminds me of the food that you have blessed me with. How telling to see the cup that has quenched my thirst and know that the giver of this earthly water is in fact Himself called Living Water.

As I stand here in this place made sacred help me to recognize every good and perfect gift that has come from you. Help me to acknowledge your presence in each moment, in each chore, in each chance I have to serve others.

Lord God, as I wash and scrub and clean and wipe help me to reflect. Help me to look back on this day. Where have I been a blessing? Where have I been used for your Kingdom? Where have I helped others along the way?

Also, Lord, where have I done harm to others? Where have I hurt others? Where have I wronged You or your people today? What can I learn from today’s activities? What do you have to teach me in this moment?

Allow this time for reflection. For quiet. For peace. For rhythm.

Give me silence for this time. This moment. Let me hear, really hear, your precious voice. Cut through my wandering mind. Bring me around to what you have to say. Fill me with your voice, your love, your mercy, your grace.

Teach me. Fill me. Use me.

Once again I thank you. Whatever else is there to do in this moment but be grateful? May this blessing be poured out from me into all others I encounter.

Thank you for the water, the dishes, the soap, the bubbles, the clean, fresh scent. Thank you for the towel, now damp and lying on the counter ready to be hung and used again for this glorious purpose.

A Prayer for Beginning Something New

Fairest Lord Jesus.

Here I am. Here I stand. Help me to be ready.

Thank you for the excitement of new beginnings. Thank you for the blessing of starting afresh. Thank you for your Spirit.

Where I am anxious, give me peace. Where I am scared, grant me confidence. Where I am headstrong, give me humility. Help me to constantly be a vessel for you. Let me be your hands and feet in all that I do today.

As I take the next step, let me do so with confidence. Let my feet forge a new path. Let my eyes see new things. Let my heart feel new experiences. Let my lips speak new words.

And the rewards? The rewards for beginning again? Oh, how I look forward to what lies ahead. How I long to see how you have moved, how you are moving even now, and how you will move in the future. Let me not grow weary, but look with expectant hope to what lies ahead.

Fairest Lord Jesus, thank you.

May I always be filled with gratitude for new beginnings.

 

 

A Liturgy for Meeting a Friend for Coffee

Good and gracious God,

Thank you.

Thank you for my friend.

Thank you for the opportunity to be together on this day, to pray, to laugh, to cry, to know that you are with us.

We are tired, though we can’t imagine why.

We are broken, though we don’t understand how.

We are in need, though we can’t always articulate of what.

God, we are here. We are listening. Speak to us through each other.

Where we must confess, allow us the strength to do so and the grace to hear each other’s confession.

Where we must ask forgiveness, allow us to do so with honesty.

If we must rebuke or counsel, let us do so in wisdom and with mercy.

When we listen to each other, let us do so with your ears, with your wisdom, with your love.

God, we come before you this day knowing and experiencing your love. We are grateful for connection. We are grateful for relationship. We are grateful for the place that you hold in our lives. May you always be the center of this friendship, the tie that binds us together, the one that holds us in your arms.

Thank you.

 

A Prayer of Gratitude

After over 20 years in ministry, I’ve seen a few things. Some of my favorites? Introducing people to Jesus for the very first time and worshiping with them in a corporate setting. Notice, I didn’t say going to church, but instead worshiping together. The former is done in a specific building at a specific time, the latter can be done anywhere. I’ve worshiped with others in my home, in the car, at a park, in a restaurant, at the beach, you name it. Sometimes this involves partaking in communion, singing songs, teaching, and prayer. Sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s a combo. The scriptures give us so many rich ideas as to how we can worship our Lord.

Sometimes, though, we need help. We don’t always have the words to say or know what to do. Often prayer with others makes some nervous or uncomfortable. What if I get it wrong? What if no one relates to what I say? In this case, sometimes it is nice to pray the scriptures. Sometimes this is called the liturgy of the Word. When we speak the Word, God is right there, present in our midst. It is used to remind us of who He is, what He said, and what He is calling us to.

Liturgy is a funny word to some. Even as someone who would identify as more “evangelical,” (though I really struggle with what that word has become) I love liturgical aspects of communal worship. I love responsive readings and communal prayers. Praying together shows our praise and thanksgiving. We can repent together, confess together, and share in God’s blessings together.

This is why I have written some prayers. Some liturgies. Part of the unhurried, ancient rhythms of life revolve around prayer. Praying over others, praying through everyday things, praying for and with people.

If you need a re-boot, if you are new to all this Jesus stuff, if you don’t know where and when to pray, then read the prayers we will post over the coming days and weeks. Pray them over your friends, pray them over your job, pray them over your schools, pray them with your church, with your small group, with your church leaders. Seek God. Slow down. Be more thoughtful. Praise Him.

Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.” ~ Mother Teresa

A Prayer of Gratitude

O Lord

O Gracious and Loving Heavenly Father

Thank you.

Thank you for the sun that rises each morning.

Thank you for the birds in their nests that greet us at the beginning of each new day.

Thank you that I am alive. I know that today holds no promises, but I know in my heart that you are with me.

I am grateful, dear God, for you. I am grateful for Your Word. I am grateful for Jesus. I am grateful for all that you have done for me and all that you are working on in my life right now.

I know, gracious God, that you are big. I know that you are capable and just and loving and merciful. I am so thankful to be on the receiving end of all of those things.

Father, thanks be to you this very day. May I end my day in reflection. May I end my day looking back and seeing all that you have done for me on this very day. May the evening close in and the sun go down and my dinner be eaten and I reflect.

Help me to see it, Lord. Help me to see those ways that you greeted me this morning, sustained me this noon, and delivered me this evening. May I be ever so grateful for your hand in my life.

May I thank you each day.

May I continue this prayer of gratitude forever.

Giving away my Joy

 

There are so many sayings out there dealing with comparison. Most are made to cause us pause, to make us think, to urge us not to compare. The most known, most loved, and most quoted comes from President Roosevelt. “Comparison is the thief of joy.” Boy, was he right.

In a world where everyone seems to celebrate differences, why is it that what we actually want is more of the same? At least we behave that way. When I see the differences between my 4 children, I delight in it. I relish it because I think what a boring place our home would be if we were all the same? They like different things, they help in different ways, they enjoy different treats and react differently to punishments. The differences between our family members is what makes life truly sweet.

But then I look at myself. I see what is reflected within me. I see a woman who is constantly comparing her worth, her intelligence, her double chin, the bags under her eyes, her clothes, her shoes, and pretty much everything else with those around her. I’m not the prettiest, the smartest, the best, the most clever, THE anything really. I live a pretty average life, own pretty average stuff, have a pretty average family, and actually LOVE it. So, why does it even matter what others have, don’t have, or gasp. . .think of me? It doesn’t. Or at least, it shouldn’t.

I have wasted hours, probably days, caring about this stuff. But, there was a time when I didn’t and I want that time back. I want my awesome, average life back.

Once upon a time, my family lived overseas. Sure, I used facebook to keep up with family and friends. It was nice, actually. But, guess what? I didn’t care about what anyone else was cooking, because chances are I couldn’t even find all of the ingredients. I didn’t care about telephone plans, or coupons, or hot deals. I didn’t give a rip about people’s home decor or the latest trends because the latest trends where I lived were so different. I didn’t care about your hairstyle because the guy who did my hair pretty much did whatever he wanted, as did the rest of the stylists in my town. Your stories were nice, your kids were cute, your husbands were great, but so what? It didn’t really have anything to do with me and my life. I was looking at facebook while standing in line at the post office for an hour just to pay a bill. I cooked a dinner that my family would appreciate, but that chances are, you might not. And, I didn’t even care.

When we moved back to the states, I celebrated the differences between my family and others. I thought it was cool. I didn’t care that your kids went to bed at 8 and mine were just eating dinner. It didn’t matter to me that our neighbors had a fancy car and I was still borrowing my dad’s minivan. Who really cares? My kids were fed and had a ride to school. We walked to the grocery store sometimes because we missed walking so much. So what if the crazy Americans thought we were poor, we were healthy, right?

But, slowly the perfect Pinterest pins have made me compare myself. My parenting. My choices. The Instagram photos in all their filtered glory make me wonder why my skin doesn’t look like that. I don’t want to care. But, often I do.

But oh how freeing it is when you make decisions for yourself. How liberating it is to come to grips with the fact that your pants have a little tear in the waistband that only you can see and that your glasses have this little scratch and that your couch kind of smells like the dog and that your kid did, in fact, fail that test BUT your pants are your absolute faves, your glasses are adorable, your dog is pretty much family and your kid is actually really smart but just had a bad day. Don’t we all? Don’t we all have an off day? There’s no way that you can tell me that the cute mom has never been pooped on by her baby or that the super athletic mom is laughing with delight on mile 6 because it’s so fun! They all struggle. We all struggle. Some of us are more disciplined than others. (Not me.) Some are more naturally thin or attractive or fun. Whatever, sure. We all have great qualities. But we also all have some areas that need work. The people that look like they have it all together, the people that you compare yourself to, they may be 10 hot seconds from falling apart. You just aren’t gonna see that unfold on Instagram. There isn’t going to be a slide in her story of her falling apart on the bathroom floor, crying in the dark because she’s overwhelmed. But you better believe it’s happened. You’re not going to see cute pins of her yelling at her husband and kids and walking out the front door to catch her breath and take a little break. But, I suppose she could have made a slide of that one, too. Do you think there’s pins of the mom who drinks too much or the boss that snaps at her employees under stress? Yeah, I don’t think so either. But, dang, she’s cute and she made a killer organic chicken casserole with tons of veggies that her toddler loved and ate with abandon right before she put him the tub and smiled big for the camera. Those are the snapshots she sharing with you.

I’m convinced that I haven’t let comparison rob my joy, I’ve just practically given it away! I’ve told comparison, “whatever. You can just have it.” I’ve spent so much time (wasted time) seeing myself as less than that the joy has been sucked right out. And, I’m just not going to do it anymore. Forget it. Comparison isn’t worth it. It’s not worth losing my joy to compare myself with a standard that doesn’t even exist. It’s filtered and fake and only shows one tiny part of the whole. I’m taking my joy back. Today. Now. And I’d suggest you do the same.

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