We praise you for the wait, oh Lord.
For the now: the darkness building all around, the tornadoes, the terrorism, the fear.
For the not yet: the reconciliations to come, the healing, the sunrise, the joy.
We praise you for the tension of light meeting dark, valley meeting mountain, ocean meeting shore, weariness meeting rest.
In the midst of our political malaise, economic hardship, cultural degradation and existential funk, give us hope.
Grant us patience for Sunday, even as the blows of Friday take their toll.
Quiet our hearts this week, Oh Lord, and help us to remember your passion.
Help us to remember it on the stressful days, when we're sitting in traffic, doing our taxes, staring bloodshot into a screen, locking ourselves out of this and that.
Help us to remember it on the lonely days, when we want to see someone but can't and want to be somewhere other than where we are.
Help us to remember it on our prideful days, which is every day. Remind us constantly of your sacrifice, and of our calling to pour ourselves out for others, as you did. Help us to love one another, to lay our lives down for our friends.
Knowing that you defeated death—that you made a way—let us go forth with courage, saying the things we struggle to say, embracing the pain we so ardently avoid, pressing on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call.
Let the morning we celebrate—the morning you rose—be the morning ever on our minds, even through the long nights.