God.

It’s the first weekend of the year. We already feel confused and behind.

We’re trying to catch our breath. Some of us because of all the chaos. Some of us because we are actually sick. Our minds, our hearts, and our lungs are feeling clogged.

We hear the words about being chosen. We confess. That sometimes sounds like losing. We’re picked to be on the team that gets all the trouble. We’re picked to be on the team that gets misunderstood. We’re picked to be on the team that has leaders saying things you disagree with, that has pastors locked up in China, that has people displaced in Central America, that has people sick and ignored here. In our town, in this hospital.

God, we confess that we get caught up in assuming that the condition of our health is a measure of your love.

We confess that we assume you don’t like underdogs.

We confess that we aren’t working hard enough to make you love us, forgetting that you simply love us.

We confess that we confuse the measure of your love with the meeting of our expectations.

God, we come to you poor and lost and confused and lonely.

Fill us with your wisdom.

Open our eyes to your love. 

Mark us with your spirit.

Let us rest in you enough to keep doing your work until we find our final rest with you.

Turn our mourning into gladness,

Give us comfort and joy instead of sorrow.

Help us dance.

Even as we find it hard to walk.

Through Christ our Lord we ask.

Amen.

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Reflecting the texts from Ephesians 1 and John 1.