Sunday, November 30, 2008

Dearest God,

Some days are hard. Yet, what I find is that hard days call for long trust. There is an inevitability of the presence of your spirit finding me in my loneliness or difficulty. When I cry out for your help, my whole body cries for you. I place my whole self in your hands asking you to guide me. Today was such a day and time.

I feel the awesome responsibility to create a setting for your movement, O Lord. A worship service is not a social event. It is not a fellowship time. It is not another hour of the day. It is a place and moment of spirit movement. It is a visitation of the Holy. You are present. It is your house where you are to be praised, worshipped and adored. It is the sacred breath of a livingness that gives life. It is a sacred fire, a passionate inspiration that penetrates hearts and minds open to it. It is joy and love entertwined, the moment of realization of your love's greatest gift. It is the gift of time to express gratitude.

And so, I know my role, my small role of creating that setting, for that is all I am capable of. You are the power behind Sunday morning. You are the breath we breathe. You are the joy we feel. You are the peace that comes. You are the hope we find. You are the quiet rest that gives tranquilty to weary souls. You are God.

When I lean to you for guidance, you whisper, "Trust, trust me." I step inside the royal priesthood and find the strength of Solomon, of your disciples, apostles and friends. I lead with your power, trusting long into your care. I feel the sweet peace of your spirit, knowing I cannot manufacture what I need at the moment. I know I can only do what you have given me the power to do, knowing that my desire to follow and to be obedient is greater than my difficulty. At the end of the service, I discover that my breath has merged with your Holy Spirit and I breathe my happiness, a happiness that has been stirred in my own heart by you. I walk away having known you are even God of the weary.

Blessed God,
my whole being
cries out
in thanksgiving.
I am weak,
incapable of doing
all you need
of me.
But you
give me strength
for the moment,
for the hour,
for the day,
for the week,
for the month,
for the year.
I bow down
in adoration.

Love, Andrea