We know that you are telling a big story. Across lifetimes, across generations, you see how words to one prophet are true five hundred years later. In a first glimpse. And then are true thousands of years later.
We are aware of our story. Which has frustrations that need to be addressed in the next ten minutes.
You work with millions of people, who have millions of problems, who have millions of worries, who have watched pieces come together in ways that only make sense with your involvement.
We are aware that this week bad stuff may happen, perhaps, though maybe not.
We are aware that bad stuff happened last week at the beginning of the week, that by the end of the week was fine. Or wasn’t.
We confess that we are poor knowers of the future, confused understanders of the present, and self-protecting historians.
We confess that we struggle to remember all the pieces of your story that Peter remembered. And even when we do remember the pieces, we struggle to see the connection to us now. To our health, to our feelings, to our relationships, to our faith.
We confess, we are grateful for forgiveness, but we aren’t always sure we need it.
We confess, we long for the good news of peace, but we are unsure what you mean by it.
We confess, we feel like bruised reeds and smoldering wicks.
And so we come to you today, asking that you not break us, that you not snuff us out.
We ask that you help us know you, in all of you that we can take, and a little more.
We ask that your forgiveness will free us, your love will overwhelm us, your presence will sustain us. For this week, for this day, for this moment.
Through Christ our Lord,
Reflecting on Isaiah 42:1-9 and Acts 10:34-43