I pray during this Lenten journey that we experience God's grace through the precious gift of great laughter. May we all find a welcoming table where we can dine and laugh.
I pray that we sing new songs; songs that will stretch us and grow us. May we sing songs that remind us of God's unfailing love for all of God's creation.
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love."
I pray that during this Lenten season, the holy will reveal itself in the most profane of places...so that we can give up whatever is weighing us down.
It may simply be enough to cry out that we stand in the need of prayer. And to know that our contradictory needs, as well as our deepest longings, are known by God.
Holy Saturday is the silence of a period which straddles death and life; it is the silence of work done and yet unfinished. That silent and holy Saturday is the space between mourning and rejoicing; it is a time in which death has not yet been defeated, nor can victory be proclaimed. Holy Saturday is a time of doubt and unbelief. It is a time of a descent into hell.
Our nation is at this very moment considering one of the most significant pieces of legislation of our modern era - the Affordable Care Act, an attempt to insure some of the 49.9 million Americans who do not have health insurance. It is an imperfect plan for a flawed system, but it sheds light on a national crisis. There are too many sons and daughters, too many mothers and fathers who don't have access to the most basic of health care until there is a catastrophic medical event.