One More Meandering Prayer as We Wait

The following is another of my meandering prayers written and prayed in the early morning hours. If there is a prompt, it was the words of Howard Thurman, "The Hasty Word (1969)," in Washington's Conversations with God: Two Centuries of Prayers by African Americans. I have read this book almost daily for several years.  I find its pages moving, in some ways similar to hearing my wife, daughters in law, or sisters in law pray. 

January 6, 2017

God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; God of Saul, David, and Solomon; God of the prophets, the kings, and the ordinary people; God of the Republicans, the Democrats and the Independents; and God of those who live in this house.

I wait in this place of quietness, considering the noise out there beyond this place, the noise in the streets, the noise in the newspapers, the noise in cyberspace, the noise in the halls of Congress, and the noise in New York City.

We are waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. Some of us know why we are waiting, what we are waiting for, and know when that for which we wait has arrived. Some of us are blind to that for which we are waiting. Some of us are disturbed at the waiting. Some of us are satisfied. Some of us are blind to the power and fury that lies within and beyond us. Some of us wait for the power and fury and the chaos to depart. Some of us as we wait fear that the power, and the fury, and the chaos, and the uncertainty will remain.

We live with daily tweets, final speeches, summaries of the one leaving, demands for the one coming, bathroom bills, discriminatory bills in all sorts of states, hacks into our private servers, threats to other nations, undoing of ACA and Planned Parenthood, walking papers to the appointeds, other nations gleeful at our elected, violence in the streets and on the screen, and the hungry are still hungry, the cold still cold, the children still worry, the families still worry.

Some of us are spending more time in the Book than in front of the news feeds. Some of us know particular news feeds more than we know the Book, or any book for that matter.

Most lives don’t matter unless they look and think and feel and worship and speak like me. Some of us are troubled by that, deeply so, and for some of us those of us who are troubled have lives that don’t matter. Just get over it. I am not sure that I can get over being told just get over it.

We long to be purified of our wrong-doings, wrong-believings, wrong-thinkings, and whatever other wrong-wrongs you see in us. You see our self-satisfactions, you observe our pride, you know all too well are arrogance and finger pointing and belittling those in power as well as the least of these.

In this place of quiet, I reflect upon friends and family who are estranged from each other due to the politics of the day. Our people are in disarray. We voted for whomever we voted or we did not vote and now we await the outcome of it all. Those who voted one way appear as arrogant, with various ways of saying, “I told you so,” or “just get over it,” or “join the crowd now that you see you are wrong.” Those who voted another way appear angry, hurt, demeaned, misunderstood, bewildered, defensive, troubled, saying, “What has happened to us? Where have our dreams gone? Who will take care of the children, the poor, the unemployed, those who live on life’s margins, those whose skin colors do not match ours, those whose language is not the same as ours, those whose religious beliefs are not like ours, those who clothing is not like ours?”

We are torn. Should we trust or mistrust our government? Should we trust or mistrust You? Should we trust or mistrust family and friends? Should we trust or mistrust ourselves?

We are a proud people. Independence, power, strength, values, armaments, stance in the world, exceptionalism, and all sorts of other values undergird our thinking. Some of us wonder where the values of service to humanity, the poor, the underprivileged, the lonely, the marginalized, where they all fit in. We hold the power to unblock or unfriend or ignore with great pride and satisfaction.

We glory in our party and its wins and losses. We are shattered when the vote goes the other way. We are troubled when one vote does not count as another vote. We are troubled when some votes are simply thrown aside as invalid. We are troubled when people fear voting. We are also troubled when people fail to vote because they do not believe that it matters.

Some people live in perpetual silence. Some of us,  Father, live in perpetual loudness, or confusion, or disarray.

We are dogmatic in our thinking and believing. Our dogmatism convinces us that we are right and others are wrong. Our dogmatism and all that goes with it slices and dices the world into neat little categories, manageable pieces, people, places, things, policies, locations.

We categorize. We categorize our categories. We categorize the categories of our categories. That means that. One thing stands for all.  We demand that all fits into this little box, or that little sack, or that little building, or that huge tall structure.

Those of us who sit in the silence and those of us who walk about with megaphones have the same doubts. We have the same desires once we discover them. Those with megaphones proclaim loudly that which is different from our own, or sometimes we claim for our own those who carry the megaphones and the pulpits or the street corners.

We sit in silence though we are not silent. While we are quiet, our minds are busy.

We wait for your movement amongst us as you did during the times of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the days Saul, David, and Solomon; the places and spaces of the kings, the prophets, and the common people; and today, the Republicans, the Democrats, the Independents.

You are God. We are not. We do not know that. Perhaps you are reminding us of that.

Knowing that is painful. We pray that others will know that the way we know that.

We pray that knowing will bring peace and humility and whatever else you know we need.

Of that we are afraid or hopeful or perplexed.

Perhaps we will know soon.

Maybe our silence will turn into words and actions. Maybe the din of our day will turn into quiet.

May the words of lips and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord.