I know it's been a looooong time since I've posted. I think about a lot of things, and want to post some thoughts quite often, but I find myself feeling nervous to let the world (or at least the 4 people I know of) read my random, sometimes disconnected thoughts. It's a lot of pressure to write something worth reading. :) But I would like to rejoin the blogging world, and let everyone keep up with what's going on in my mind and heart.
Recently, I've been reading Prayers for a Privileged People by Walter Bruggemann. If you've never read this book, I would highly recommend it. Ben and I have enjoyed pulling this book out sometimes and reading the prayers together. The language is so articulate, and the words are meaningful and rich. More and more, I'm appreciating prayers like this--written, poetic. When read slowly and purposefully, these prayers, though first prayed by others, have been my prayers too, and have been an agent of change and growth in my heart.
The priest says, "Almighty God . . . from whom no secrets are
hid."
We rush to the next phrase but now linger there.
We are rich conundrums of secrets,
we weave a pattern of lies in order to be
well thought of,
we engage in subterfuge about our truth.
We carry old secrets too painful to utter,
too shameful to acknowledge,
too burdensom to bear,
of failures we cannot undo,
of alienations we regret but cannot fix,
of grandiose exhibits we cannot curb.
And you know them.
You know them all.
And so we take a deep sigh in your presence,
no longer needing to pretent and
cover up and
deny.
We mostlly do no have big sins to confess,
only modest shames that do not
fit our hoped-for selves.
And then we find that your knowing is more
powerful than our secrets.
You know and do not turn away,
and our secrets that seemed too powerful
are emptied of strength,
secrets that seemed too burdensome
are now less severe.
We marvel that when you find us out
you stay with us,
taking us serously,
taking our secrets soberly,
but not ultimately,
overpowering our little failure
with your masive love
and your abiding patience.
We long to be fully, honestly
exposed to your gaze of gentleness.
In the moment of your knowing
we are eased and lightened,
and we feel the surge of joy move in our bodies,
because we are not ours in cringing
but yours in communion.
We are yours and find the truth before you
makes us free for
wonder, love, and praise--and new life.
Walter Bruggemann, Prayers for a Privileged People
hid."
We rush to the next phrase but now linger there.
We are rich conundrums of secrets,
we weave a pattern of lies in order to be
well thought of,
we engage in subterfuge about our truth.
We carry old secrets too painful to utter,
too shameful to acknowledge,
too burdensom to bear,
of failures we cannot undo,
of alienations we regret but cannot fix,
of grandiose exhibits we cannot curb.
And you know them.
You know them all.
And so we take a deep sigh in your presence,
no longer needing to pretent and
cover up and
deny.
We mostlly do no have big sins to confess,
only modest shames that do not
fit our hoped-for selves.
And then we find that your knowing is more
powerful than our secrets.
You know and do not turn away,
and our secrets that seemed too powerful
are emptied of strength,
secrets that seemed too burdensome
are now less severe.
We marvel that when you find us out
you stay with us,
taking us serously,
taking our secrets soberly,
but not ultimately,
overpowering our little failure
with your masive love
and your abiding patience.
We long to be fully, honestly
exposed to your gaze of gentleness.
In the moment of your knowing
we are eased and lightened,
and we feel the surge of joy move in our bodies,
because we are not ours in cringing
but yours in communion.
We are yours and find the truth before you
makes us free for
wonder, love, and praise--and new life.
Walter Bruggemann, Prayers for a Privileged People
