We're here, we're troubled, and maybe we're praying

a few words of post-evangelical prayer for this time

Has it really only been a week and two days since inauguration?

Part of me can’t believe how much damage the Trump administration has managed to do in such a short time.

Part of me absolutely believes it. What else did we expect?

Reflecting on what I might possibly be able to offer y’all in this time—as the highest powers in our land quickly dismantle science, medicine, any semblance of racial equity, and any semblance of care for earth, all while aggressively attacking the immigrants who make our communities stronger—I thought I might offer some words of prayer.

Who knows what prayer does or doesn’t do, in a time like this? And yet, it’s a human inclination, for many of us, to reach out for a power higher than the ones who are wreaking so much havoc in our world and seem so unrestrained.

Prayer as reaching out / Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I’m reaching out, and I offer these prayers in case you are too—or in case it’s just comforting to know that if you’re thinking these kinds of thoughts, you aren’t alone.

So, here are three brief prayers inspired by these last couple weeks. I hope you feel completely free to join me in praying any words that resonate, and just as free to let the rest go.

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for troubled consciences

God of mercy,

trouble the consciences of those

who seem to have no conscience.

We would like to believe that

there is still some humanity within them

to which Mercy might speak

and be heard.

Amen.

for when we’ve got nothing

God who weeps with those who weep,

we feel that we have so little to offer,

and what tiny offerings we do have

are crushed under the weight of

so much cruelty.

Yet, Divine Love, you multiply.

You take what feels like nothing

and make meaning of it,

even when we can’t see it yet.

We cling to this hope.

Amen.

for when we want to retreat entirely

God,

give us courage,

in these coming days

and months

and years,

to do more than retreat

into cozy spaces

and let the world burn

as if we will not

burn with it.

May we rest,

and may we also move

toward one another,

toward care.

Amen.

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In thinking about this last prayer, especially, I’m struck by how part of me thought I could insulate myself in my little bubble of privilege for the next four years if I wanted to. I no longer think this is true.

I don’t think there’s much of anyone or anything that won’t be touched in some damaging way by the executive orders, cabinet appointments, and general murder and mayhem of the last week.

And yet, we’re still here. We still have one another. We still have so much goodness and stunning beauty in our world.

Maybe we light a candle as a symbol of the presence of Divine Love / Photo by Mike Labrum on Unsplash

We still have kind people and playful cats and home-cooked meals and daffodil bulbs sending up new stems in the dead of winter.

May we find joy, even now. May we rest, and may we move. May we care for ourselves and one another fiercely.

In this with you.