Wednesday, September 23, 2020
What’s On My Mind Tonight: A Prayer
O Lord, what’s on my mind tonight
is not
politics or protesters or police,
nor
the violence on the streets, or
the viciousness in the air, not even
the virus still violating us, or
justice
still not justice,
all we’ve been praying about
week after week
and need to pray about,
but not tonight,
because that’s not
what’s on my mind;
something else on my mind,
a feisty little woman
who fiestied her way to
almost 101,
suddenly gone;
and a beloved pastor,
a pastor’s pastor,
also gone;
and a nerd who was a nerd before there were nerds
gone as well;
and a man,
with thermos in hand
ready to take a Sunday School stand,
another empty chair,
no warning there;
and another man,
a nice man,
hardly anyone knew,
not enough time,
the end of the pew
empty,
just like that;
all no longer with us,
and yet with us still somehow,
at least still with me,
with me
tonight;
along with a 98-year-old woman
very much
still with us,
still sharp as a tack,
still with head screwed on right,
right enough to know
when something is wrong,
not happy,
assisted living
not assisting her living,
wondering
if this is how she’ll spend her final days,
shut in her room,
never again talking face to face with someone,
never again tasting the taste of
communion
given by the one she wants it from, but
not allowed in,
still not given;
and a
dear, dear man
so very special to me,
and others too,
always
on my mind,
because of what they are facing, fighting, fearing;
and the fires out West
and the flooding in the South
on my mind,
people devastated,
wondering how do you
recover,
rebuild,
rebound;
and those struggling
to get by,
put food on the table,
pay the rent.
That’s
what’s on my mind tonight:
people,
ordinary people,
everyday people,
the spouse of a police officer or firefighter
wondering if the other will
make it safely through the day;
the parent of a child
wondering if the child will
make it safely down the street;
others wondering too,
wondering if those they love and they themselves
will make it safely beyond the virus;
wondering if their friendships
will survive
poisonous politics poisoning everything;
wondering if justice will ever be just;
and the forgotten ones,
the homeless,
the refugees with no refuge,
the children.
That’s
what’s on my mind tonight
and most every night:
not
campaigns or
causes or
crusades,
just
people,
some I know, most I don’t,
some up against it,
some not,
some afraid or anxious or angry, or
all of the above,
some grateful,
many grieving,
(try the family and friends of 200,000 and more, for starters),
most trying to make the best of it
as best they can,
but all
just people.
O Lord, keep such people on our minds
so that
we keep our minds
on what matters most:
not money
(as our culture preaches),
not success
(as our culture promises),
not power
(as our culture proclaims),
not even winning
(forgive me fans in the stands),
not even politics
(especially not politics),
but
people,
human beings,
the neighbor,
the friend,
the stranger too,
far and near,
and one another in our families,
one another here,
you.
And
keep such people close to our hearts,
so that
we keep our hearts
fixed on them
and being there
for them
however and wherever we can.
And
keep such people in our prayers
so that
we keep our prayers
focused on them,
never stop praying
for them,
for healing, strength, comfort, justice, peace.
O Lord, that’s what’s on my mind tonight,
every night really,
every day actually,
because
that’s what it all comes down to in the end:
people,
just people,
human beings,
remembering them,
remembering the command
above all other commands,
the command
to love you,
to love the other,
to be human one to the other.
Our only hope.
Your command.
Our obedience.
Remembering what has almost been
forgotten.
Amen.