Tune my heart

I have learned much from the teenagers of the congregation where I serve. They are a gift to me. One blessing comes with their music, quite specifically one version of an old time hymn they’ve brought to new life for me. The way they sing “Come thou fount of every blessing” has caused me to hear the text in new ways.

I was recently on a walk in the woods, replaying the hymn in my mind, recognizing that the whole hymn is really a prayer for renewal. (Hymn text below) I stopped on this phrase which I’ve sung a million times, but heard in a new way: “Tune my heart to sing thy grace.”

It made me think about my heart, and not in a cardiologist kind of way. I thought about where I was giving my heart. Was I giving my heart to that which would satisfy my heart, borrowing a question from one of the desert fathers? Was my heart heavy? Distracted? In the imagery of the hymn, was it out of tune? If so, what caused that? And what could be done about that?

Any number of things can cause my heart to go out of tune. Like a musical instrument, a jarring movement can do it, the change and chances of life. Lack of use or exercise can do it. Atmospherics, turning up the heat, growing cold can do it. The affections, the spiritual inclinations that might be considered matters of the heart can be rendered dissonant by resentment, anxiety, boredom, a loss of hope. I confess that news of late has set my own heart out of tune. What’s to be done?

Returning to the observation that this hymn text is a prayer, I suspect the first thing to say is that any tuning, adjusting, recalculating, comes as gift. It is God’s work. So if my out of tune heart is going to be brought to a new place, it must be seen as God’s holy work with which I am willing to cooperate, work to which I am open. Maybe I can’t do the tuning. But I can ask to be an instrument of God’s peace. Maybe I can’t do the tuning. But experience tells me I could probably obstruct it if I was so inclined, or so clueless.

So what are the obstructions in my life? (How much time do you have?) How can I pay attention to the voice of John the Baptist this Advent and think about where I need to repent. Translation: where do I need to change direction, recalculate as Siri would describe it. One place in particular is in gratitude. I can stand to grow in that. Another is in having a heart oriented toward service, not towards what I’m due. Another growth opportunity.

Someone once told me that the best way to understand the mystery of prayer is that it is a matter of aligning our will with God’s will. The call to alignment is just another way of describing the tuning of the heart. That can happen in confession, intercession, silence, song, thanksgiving, praise, service.

We find ourselves in the season of Advent, a time of preparation for the grand celebration of Christmas, good tidings of joy which shall be to all people. In many ways, Advent is a time to tune our hearts to sing the praises first shared with shepherds on that hillside. Take the quiet call of the season of Advent to listen to your heart. Is there a way in which it seems to be out of tune, slightly or significantly? Can you offer a prayer for God gracious activity to tune your heart to sing God’s praise? Can you get specific, naming those things that contribute to dissonance and discordance?

Pray the hymn. Tune your heart. Sing God’s grace.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

As I work on my own spiritual life (note: miles to go), and as I talk with congregations about their work in this regard, I’m spending a lot of time thinking about what it means to be a disciple. What are authentic contemporary expressions of discipleship? What does it look like these days?

The word “disciple” means different things to different people. For some, it seems to be a high calling, a holy aspiration. For others, it seems like a way-too-high bar, something that doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun, an unattainable ought that implies that we’re not quite good enough. What do you make of the word?

Advent, a season which began yesterday, is a season that can help us think about discipleship. I’m grateful to find myself reading a book called Being Disciples by Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury. It came at a good time for me. (The older I get, the less I believe in coincidence.) As he writes about discipleship, his language echoes Advent themes.

Advent, the four weeks before Christmas, is a whole lot more than counting the shopping days left. It is a season of preparation for sure, but so much more than fulfilling a gift list or getting holiday cards in the mail. Advent is meant to be a contemplative season, a season of mindfulness, an invitation/exhortation to pay attention, to stay awake, to get ready, to expect something to happen. For those who take the season to heart, it’s swimming against the stream, a counter-cultural movement. I generally find I need some help to maintain focus on the reason for the season.

Which is why I was glad to run across Rowan Williams’ thoughts on what it means to be a disciple. So I’ll shut up and let you listen to him. He writes:

Disciples are expectant in the sense that they take it for granted that there is always something about to break through from the Master, the Teacher, something about to burst through the ordinary and uncover a new light on the landscape.

So let me ask, as Advent begins, are you expecting anything new, or will it be same old/same old? Do you have a sense that in the coming of Christ, the goal of the season, God will have something new to teach you? Are you ready for it? Are you open to it?

Disciples watch; they remain alert, attentive, watching for symbolic acts as well as listening for instructive words, watching the actions that give the clue to how reality is being reorganized around Jesus.

So let me ask, as Advent begins, can you imagine that reality is being reorganized around Jesus? What do you think that would look like? Would you know it if you saw it? Are you watching?

A disciple is simply a learner, and this is what the disciple learns: how to be a place in the world where the act of God can come alive.

So let me ask, as Advent begins, can you think of yourself as a disciple who is always a learner? Are you open to the idea that you might just be a place where the act of God can come alive? In the second century, a Christian named Irenaeus said that the glory of God is a human being fully alive. Can you expect that kind of revival in your own life? Disciples apparently expect that to happen. Let this season of Advent be a time to focus on your discipleship, and see what happens.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

“If it ain’t about love, it ain’t about God.”

That was just one of the gems offered by our shy and retiring Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry last Friday in his peripatetic preaching. (Pity the poor cameraman trying to follow him.) I was privileged to hear him in Dallas, at a conference called Evangelism Matters. The perhaps preposterous premise of the gathering was that Episcopalians and evangelism go together. Said another way, as Michael Curry demonstrated, an Episcopal evangelist is not an oxymoron.

If you wish to arrive at that point of view, however, you have to suspend prejudice about the word “evangelist”, expunge the vision of Elmer Gantry and contemporary descendants (of which there are plenty), and think about the etymology of the word evangelist. It comes from the Greek word for good news. The church over the years, up to current times, has too often proclaimed bad news, manipulative news, self-serving news, exclusive news. Michael Curry called us to another way. The way of Jesus.

Evangelism has nothing to do with a bigger church, he said. It has to do with a better world. He spoke with energy and eloquence about evangelism, part of God’s work of reconciliation in the world. He spoke about the dream of God, which is that each one of us would live in loving relationship with God and neighbor. Anything else is nightmare. He spoke about finding our way home.

So wrap your mind around the idea that as a follower of Jesus, or at least someone mildly interested in Jesus, you are an evangelist. Said another way, you are called to share good news.

In order to do that, you have to hold some good news in your heart. Not a bad thing to think about in this week marked by a national holiday dedicated to Thanksgiving. Note: This day became an official national holiday during the War between the States, a political season when it was really hard to find any good news. Thanksgiving may not have been top of mind in those days, sometimes referred to as the recent unpleasantness.

At the heart of our religious practice is a service of eucharist, which means thanksgiving. I’m always struck with the narrative of that liturgy, Jesus instituting the ritual meal of bread and wine on the night before he died. I would have been on the first bus out of town. Instead, he gathered with his friends to say thanks, knowing full well what was ahead of him.

Take some time on this Monday morning to think about those things for which you are thankful, those places where good news has touched your life. I know that every one of us is touched by challenge and tragedy and brokenness. I also know that every one of us has something for which we can be thankful. Including the amazing, confounding premise of our faith that God’s love is something from which we can never be separated, that there is no one who is beyond the reach of God’s love, that God’s presence dwells in each one of us.

Once you’ve gotten that thanksgiving in mind, think about how you might share that joy with someone you know this week. That would be such good news. Maybe it’s something you could share over Thanksgiving Dinner. I sense it would be much more edifying than a discussion of current politics. And would probably be better for the digestion.

-Jay Sidebotham

I was taught that [evangelism] meant converting people to the one true religion, namely, my own. Now I believe evangelism means inviting people into heart-to-heart communion and collaboration with God and neighbors in the great work of healing the earth, of building the beloved community, of seeking first the kingdom of God and God’s justice for all.

-Brian McLaren,

in his new book,

The Spiritual Migration

People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

-Dave Barry

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

When I started in ministry, a mentor told me: “Jay, you only have to do two things when it comes to Sunday worship. One, keep it to an hour. And two, leave people more hopeful than when they came.” Over the years, I’ve had varying degrees of success with the first one. We clergy do go on.

And I’ve aspired to the second goal, because everybody needs hope. Which brings me to current events:

When I preached on the Sunday before election, I issued a call to gentleness and compassion, because I said that after Tuesday, November 8, half of us would be filled with hope and half of us would tend to despair. It’s dangerous to preach. I didn’t imagine I’d be in the latter segment. Perhaps pride does come before the fall.

Yesterday, I went to church not only because it’s my job. I was also looking to get a dose of hope myself. Here in a state which went red, reaction to election results were mixed between high fives and kleenex. I suspect that’s true in many regions in this close election. In the spirit of full disclosure, I was in the group going through boxes of kleenex, occasionally uttering expletives to be deleted, for reasons I’m glad to discuss off line. I’ve been shaken. I’ve wondered about how to move forward. So yesterday, I went to church. For my job. For my spirit.

I preached yesterday on the collect, printed below, which speaks about scripture. It calls us to go deeper in scripture, in that marvelous progression that asks us to hear, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest the words from the Bible. This is one of my favorite collects, surfacing once a year. It reminds us that the point of reading scripture is not to be biblically literate, or to be good at religious stuff, or to be holier than thou, or to use scripture as bludgeon on people who disagree with us. The point of reading scripture is to hold on to hope.

Over and over, the transformative, powerful stories of scripture aim to leave us ever more hopeful. The hope of Abraham and Sarah who wandered and wondered if there would even be a next generation. The hope of Moses’ mother who put her infant child in a basket in the river, trusting him to God’s care. The hope of Israelites enslaved in Egypt. The yearnings of the psalms. The hope of exiles longing for home from Babylonian captivity. Yesterday, we read a passage from Malachi, who spoke of the hope that came with the one risen with healing in his wings, a line included in a Christmas carol. (Hark, the herald angels…) It’s the hope of St. Paul writing from prison where every other word is a call to rejoice. The hope that at times in our lives, it may in fact feel like Good Friday but Sunday is coming.

Hope kept showing up. At one service, a small choir sang an anthem which has sustained me at critical passages in my life. The text: “Surely it is God who saves me. I will trust in him and not be afraid.” At another service, we concluded with Hymn 665: All my hope in God is founded. It’s a beautiful text, set to a tune composed by Herbert Howells. The tune is called Michael, dedicated to the memory of Howells’ son who died at the age of nine. (The first two stanzas are printed below.) As I sang the hymn, I thought, if this guy can hang on to hope, I guess I can too.

I’m grateful for a day when prayers, hymns and scripture bolstered my heart, offering comfort and perspective and community. I consider it all to be a gift of the spirit by which I was left more hopeful than when I started the day.

On this Monday morning, I’m hoping that the Spirit is leading you in paths marked by hope, so that by the end of the day, you will be more hopeful than when November 14th began. No matter how you voted.

And in case you’re wondering, yesterday, worship was done in under an hour.

-Jay Sidebotham

Take it to the Lord in prayer

Instead of reading my ramblings this morning, take some quiet time to offer these prayers. I’ve found that when I’m not sure what to say, it’s good to pray.

For an Election
Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges: Guide the people of the United States in the election of officials and representatives; that, by faithful administration and wise laws, the rights of all may be protected and our nation be enabled to fulfill your purposes; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For the Human Family
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For our Country
Almighty God, who hast given us this good land for our heritage: We humbly beseech thee that we may always prove ourselves a people mindful of thy favor and glad to do thy will. Bless our land with honorable industry, sound learning, and pure manners. Save us from violence, discord, and confusion; from pride and arrogance, and from every evil way. Defend our liberties, and fashion into one united people the multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues. Endue with the spirit of wisdom those to whom in thy Name we entrust the authority of government, that there may be justice and peace at home, and that, through obedience to thy law, we may show forth thy praise among the nations of the earth. In the time of prosperity, fill our hearts with thankfulness, and in the day of trouble, suffer not our trust in thee to fail; all which we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

For the President of the United States and all in Civil Authority
O Lord our Governor, whose glory is in all the world: We commend this nation to your merciful care, that, being guided by your providence, we may dwell secure in your peace. Grant to the President-elect of the United States wisdom and strength to know and to do your will. Fill our leaders with the love of truth and righteousness, and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve this people in your fear; through Jesus
Christ our Lord Amen.

For our Enemies
O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth: deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

In times like these, I give thanks to God for the treasures in our Prayer Book. These and other petitions polished over time can be found in the Book of Common Prayer, beginning at page 814.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Seeing and being seen

Yesterday in church, Zacchaeus showed up. (If you missed it, or want a refresher, read his story below.) I preached a homily about him, and I heard an even better homily from my colleague, Tim Meyers. We were channeling the same spiritual muse, focusing on who Zacchaeus seeks, and who is seeking him.

The nineteenth chapter of Luke is Zacchaues’ fifteen minutes of fame. We don’t hear from him again. Sunday School grads may know the cute song about a wee little man who climbed up in the sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see. It makes him sound adorable, a biblical leprechaun. But it doesn’t take much imagination to conclude that the guy was kind of a jerk.

I’ve been familiar with the story for a long time, but I tried to see it in a new way. Luke tells us Zacchaeus was “trying to see Jesus.” I suspect that’s true for a lot of us. This story describes that desire to see Jesus, and makes us think about things that keep that from happening.

For Zacchaeus, climbing that tree, there were plenty of obstructions, starting with his physical stature. He was short. Nothing he could do about that, a random fact of life that nevertheless presented challenges. Maybe we’ve experienced fateful circumstances that block spiritual vision.

Then there was the fact that he was in a profession that made him unpopular, that choices he made may have set him apart from the crowd. Maybe there are choices we’ve made that get in the way of our spiritual perspective.

He was rich, and Luke reminds us again and again that while wealth can be used well, but it can also be a spiritual distraction, even a trap.

And there was his history of ripping people off. Maybe there are things we’ve done that we ought not to have done. The need to be forgiven and the need to forgive may act like blinders, may block our vision.

Again, Zacchaeus gets just a cameo role, which invites us to bring our imagination to his story. As I meet with people around the church, I often ask what is getting in the way of deeper life with God, discipleship of Jesus, the power of the Spirit. Often, the obstruction is a crisis, random challenges that block a vision of God’s grace, things over which we have no power. Sometimes it’s the things we have done, the inability to extend mercy to ourselves or others. Sometimes it’s the disappointment in what others have done, especially failures of the church. It can start to feel hopeless. Except for this fun fact:

The story of Zacchaeus is about his intention to see Jesus, to conquer obstacles getting in his way. But that’s not the whole story. The real transformation in his life happens because Jesus sees Zacchaeus. As the parade moves down the crowded street, Jesus brings it to a halt under that sycamore tree. He looks up to see Zacchaeus in that place of secluded inquiry. (Could Zacchaeus have been an Episcopalian?) Jesus invites himself over to lunch at Zacchaeus’ house. Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus. Perhaps he should have been careful what he asked for.

By the time dessert rolls around, Zaccheus is a new man, promising to change his life, gladly giving up a bunch of money, making amends, healing broken relationships, beginning a new chapter. What does Jesus see in him: Not a rip-off artist. Not a pariah. Jesus sees in Zacchaeus a child of Abraham, a child of promise.

To whatever extent we wish to overcome obstacles that keep us from clearer spiritual vision, the fact is that Jesus has already got his eyes on us. He sees what we can be. He sees us as children of promise. If he can see us that way, regardless of our limits and failures, maybe we can see ourselves in a new light as well. Try that perspective this Monday morning.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.

Recent conversations

Recent conversations have called to mind fond memories of ministry with one particularly witty colleague. She got the nickname “The Terminator” because we noticed that in her premarital counseling, a number of couples decided to postpone or cancel wedding plans. She approached the counseling with, how shall we say, a directness that suffused all of her conversations. I remember driving with her past a 10k road race. She remarked to me: I’ll start running when the people who are doing it start looking like they’re having fun.

We could say the same about church. Way too often clergy and the congregations they lead seem to have cornered the market on “more miserable than thou,” living into H.L. Mencken’s definition of a puritan, i.e., someone who is unhappy because someone somewhere is having a good time. In our beloved denomination, the term “frozen chosen” only generates laughter because it reflects some truth. Joy is not always, but too often, in short supply in the church these days. In a world where you attract more with honey than vinegar, the church often serves up vinegar.

The recent conversations I mentioned in the first paragraph had to do with evangelism, not a word often associated with Episcopalians, for some good reasons. But it’s a word I’m not ready to surrender, because at the root of evangelism is the Greek word euangel which means good news. And we all need to hear good news.

After watching yesterday’s Sunday news shows, reading the Sunday paper, spending way too much time on news websites, I’m having a hard time identifying the good news. (A personal note: Of course, this does not include the miraculous news that the Cubs are in the World Series.)

The recent conversations included a question posed by Chris Yaw, a great Episcopal priest noted for creativity and innovation. He wrote a wry and witty book called Jesus Was An Episcopalian. He leads a ministry called ChurchNext, which provides wonderful learning opportunities online. Google it. End of commercial. In a presentation last week, Chris posed this question to our group:

How is Jesus saving you right now?

I may be projecting if I say the group would have liked another question. Maybe I was the only one who felt that way. It felt personal. Awkward. A bit threatening. I don’t often enter into discussion of how I am being saved.

Beyond that, often in the current religious climate, we equate being saved with getting a reserved spot on the express bus to the pearly gates, some future event we anticipate. That’s language Episcopalians don’t often use. Chris was asking us to think about how the good news is bringing hope and healing right now. In other words, he was asking: What’s the good news in your life?

If we can’t find a way to think and talk about that good news, evangelism isn’t going to go very far. Chris’ question was hard, maybe even intrusive, as provocative as it was evocative. But maybe we need some hard questions.

It got me thinking about how Jesus has become my teacher. About how brave he was in the face of complacency and unkindness and injustice. About how his power to heal can help me heal places where I’m broken. How on the night before he died, he gave thanks when his closest friends were about to betray, deny and desert him. How he paid attention to those who had been cast aside. How he paid attention to me, with a grace that lets me know that all will be well, that our crazy, broken world will be set right. That’s saving language.

What’s the good news for you this morning? Where are the sources of joy? How are you being called to share those things? How are you being saved this day?

-Jay Sidebotham

Wisdom.

What is it? And, oh, by the way, how can I get some?

In the mornings these days, the lectionary has led me to a place I probably wouldn’t have gone on my own. We’re reading our way through the apocryphal book called Ecclesiasticus. I don’t know much about the book, who wrote it and why. My Protestant upbringing did not include it in the Sunday School song which I was taught as a way to learn the books of the Bible. But the theme of the book so far seems to be wisdom, And I’m feeling, perhaps after watching too much news, that we all could use a little more wisdom.

The theme of wisdom is all over the place in many religious traditions. People everywhere need it. In our tradition, The Book of Proverbs in the Bible tells us that wisdom, a feminine presence, represented the power that created all things. In the gospel of John, Jesus is presented as the logos, or wisdom, of God.

Ecclesiasticus echoes words found in many parts of scripture: The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. I don’t know how you hear the word “fear”. Many people have been damaged in the faith journey by the image of a God who can’t wait to hurl lightning bolts when we step out of line. That image of God is included in the list of things I refuse to believe.

But there is a sense in which the fear of the Lord points us to a relationship with a God greater than ourselves, even beyond our understanding. Synonyms I would suggest are wonder, humility, reverence, and that word calling out for proper usage in our culture: Awesome. Wisdom begins with recognizing our own limits. Ecclesiasticus puts it this way: Do not meddle in what is beyond your tasks, for matters too great for human understanding have been shown you.

This reflection on wisdom began a few days ago when I read this line:

If you desire wisdom, keep the commandments, and the Lord will supply it for you. For the fear of the Lord is wisdom and instruction.

Three things occurred to me in reflection on these words:

First, I do indeed desire wisdom, for myself, for our church and for our nation in this election season. In my soul and in our common life, wisdom seems to be in short supply, as we seem to battle a wisdom deficit.

Second, the text tells me wisdom is available, accessible, as we keep the commandments. That may sound like wisdom comes from obeying a bunch of rules. But what if it means listening for teaching from a source greater than ourselves? What if it means letting our lives be guided by the commandments given by Jesus, the one we follow, the one to whom we look for wisdom? Jesus said the commandments are summed up in love of God and love of neighbor. What if I directed my life, this Monday, to walking in the way of those commandments, seeking that wisdom?

Third, the text tells us that wisdom is a gift. What if I came to see that the wisdom I desire, for myself and others, is a bit of grace itself. Am I open to receiving it? Will I ask for it, as Solomon did (see text below)? Am I ready to be taught?

Think about wisdom today. Who do you know who shows it? Ask that person how wisdom came to them?

Think about whether you desire wisdom. Are you and I open to its power in our lives?

Think about whether you might take a step today toward wisdom, in fear or reverence or recognition of the awesome God who calls us to this particularly wise way of life: Love of God and love of neighbor.

-Jay Sidebotham

The daily reading on Saturday told the story of Jesus calming the storm, rebuking wind and raging waves (Luke 8:22-25). As I read this passage, and thought and prayed about the impact of the hurricane on Haiti and Cuba and other hard-hit places, I wondered how the story would be heard there.

Monday morning greetings from North Carolina where we watched Hurricane Matthew creep its way up the coast over the past week. As we charted the progress, prayers have ascended. I’m grateful for friends who have held us and our community in prayer and inquired about our well-being.

We personally were spared what could have been a big mess, or worse. Some cleaning up to do for sure. But we are grateful. I’ve noted on social media, as the storm passed town after town, that many people mentioned that they had been praying for all those in harm’s way all along the eastern seaboard, and joined in expressing gratitude that the storm wasn’t worse for them.

It points to the mystery of prayer, for a number of folks who lost their lives in coastal states did not have prayers for them answered. Many lost possessions in the devastating wind and waves and rain and floods. To the number of those in this country are added hundreds, perhaps into the thousands, of brothers and sisters in Haiti and other Caribbean islands, who lost their lives. Hundreds of thousands who lost homes and all they owned. Prayers answered? Prayers not heard?

Luke’s gospel tells us that Jesus was always going off to pray, yet even his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane was not answered the way he would have liked. St. Paul advised early Christians to pray without ceasing, but he himself prayed repeatedly for a thorn in the flesh to be removed. It wasn’t. We all know people who have been the focus of prayers for cure who have succumbed to illness, maybe experience a kind of healing, but not cured.

So what can we say about prayer? One thing for starters: it’s probably better to spend more time listening in prayer than talking. In that quiet space, leaving room for God to speak, it is possible to align one’s own will with the will of God.

And if we then feel a need to move into words, consider the simple prayer offered by Annie Lamott who said you only need three words to pray: Thanks. Help. Wow.

Or draw, as millions have, on the power of the Serenity Prayer, which recognizes the mystery that our lives are marked by things we can shape (co-create) and things beyond our control (a hurricane.)

Or use the other prayer below which comes from the Healing Service in the Prayer Book. It recognizes the variety of conditions we face on any given day. In a beautiful turn of phrase, it invites us to handle them gallantly.

And don’t stop praying for the people of Haiti and all those whose lives were most harshly affected by the storm, nearby and far away. Recent appalling news from the presidential campaign bumped publicity about the conditions in the Caribbean. We need to hold these folks in our hearts. We can pray, not only with our lips, but with our lives for some of the poorest communities on the globe. (May I suggest the Episcopal Relief and Development Hurricane Matthew Relief Fund?  www.episcopalrelief.org)

May we never stop asking that Jesus will calm the storm, whatever that storm may be in our lives or in the lives of others, literal or figurative tempests. Maybe we can even be used by Jesus in that calming, healing process.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:
Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org

If you’d like to join in this donor-based ministry, donate here.