People will die today. In this building, in this community, in this world.
People will be born, today, too. In this building, in this community, in this world.
The rest of us will be living between birth and death.
We will be remembering, some of us, those who are gone.
We will be longing for, some of us, those who are coming.
And we will, many of us, we confess, be uncertain about the best ways, the most useful, the most meaningful, the most successful ways, to live.
And we will, many of us, be aware of the ways we’ve chosen ways that fell short of your glory, your invitation, your opportunities.
We ask you, like James and John did, to do whatever we ask.
We often don’t ask you for the strength to do whatever you ask.
We often start our conversations with what we’ve done well, wanting to impress and appease you.
We often don’t start by remembering how much of our pain and confusion and fear you understand.
Because you know our fearfulness, please give us the courage you had.
Because you know our emotional triggers, please let your tears mix with ours as we heal.
Because you know our weakness, please remind us lovingly that you know our weakness,
And sit with us.
Because you are God, please help us not try to be gods.
And simply be your children, living between birth and death.
And then beyond.
Through Christ our Lord.