Fifth Sunday of Lent, March 29th | how God talks
Coffee in one hand
leaning in to share, listen:
How I talk to God.
“Momma, you’re special.”
Three-year-old touches my cheek.
How God talks to me.
While driving I make
lists: done, do, hope, love, hate, try.
How I talk to God.
Above the highway
hawk: high, alone, free, focused.
How God talks to me.
Rash, impetuous
chatter, followed by silence:
How I talk to God.
First, second, third, fourth
chance to hear, then another:
How God talks to me.
Fetal position
under flannel sheets, weeping
How I talk to God.
Moonlight on pillow
tending to my open wounds
How God talks to me.
Pulling from my heap
of words, the ones that mean yes:
How I talk to God.
Infinite connects
with finite, without words:
How God talks to me.
(How I talk to God by Kelly Belmonte)
Psalm 77:1-6
1 I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me. 2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. 3 When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints. 4 You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. 5 I consider the days of old, the years long ago. 6 I said, “Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.”
Matthew 6:9-15
9 Pray then like this:
“Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
10 Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
11 Give us this day our daily bread,
12 and forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
13 And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
14 For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, 15 but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.
Lord, I confess that my prayers often act more like a boomerang than an arrow. Words exit my mouth posed as supplication, but I swiftly turn inward for answers. You send me assurances of grace through your people, but I dwell in shame and allow the opinions of others to override your voice. You reveal Yourself in Scripture, yet I neglect its pages and and preoccupy myself with lesser things. I spin my wheels in fear that stopping to listen for your voice will result in bleak silence or, even more terrifying, a dreaded calling. And yet, quietly, subtly, you speak through your Spirit. When I’m fearful and despairing, Jesus as the Word brings light. Though I waiver and stumble, you beckon me as a beloved child. Our Father, who uttered a word and created the universe, speak life into our hearts. Holy Spirit, who helps us in our weakness, clarify our mumblings and usher them toward heaven. Jesus, who was pierced for the sake of our souls, come and pierce our hearts with your truth.
(Prayer written by Julie Davis)