The clocks changed on Sunday. Our bodies take longer than a day. In the groggy, fogginess of recalibration of minds and bodies and hearts that is required in early November in my part of the country, these words of Paul feel more aspirational than factual, more like what would be nice than what is true.
“Remembering you in my prayers that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places . . .”
I know. Long and complicated sentences are hard this morning.
So start with this:
God, we can’t see beyond our coffee and our worries. Give us a glimpse of your realness, of the value you see in us together, of the power that got Jesus out of the grave. And we’ll be able to move.