A Prayer in the Darkness

"Love" is the stuff of vain words that fall short of action. They grow stale and cold like expelled breath not long after they are expressed. Our unworthy and faithless race finds telling easy but showing hard. We are all talk. Wasted breath.

What do we know of love in this world? Lovers are mostly takers. At best, they are loyal if it serves them. Friends are seldom true. The cliches about human connection seem mostly lies, fleeting and cruel. Like a taunting and sarcastic gift that raises hope to increase the insult. When I think of all the self-inflicted pain of our existence, and the generous helpings of sorrow we serve to each other, what light is there in the ocean of our corruption, ignorance, and delusion?

I would despair if not for you, Brother, Friend. I would be alone to face the darkness within me -- within us all. One pair of healing hands. One couple of steadfast feet. One set of honest lips. One. But, enough.

O, take us all, broken as we are, Jesus, Redeemer. Breath into us again the life we lost when we choose self-living. You are spring and summer in our winter world. You are resurrection in our death. Can you embody these hands, and make them do good? Can they learn more than their thievery and life-taking? Will you slip into these feet and make them stay? All they have ever known is fearful flight and running after cheap desire. And would you speak through these lips and make them say truth? Their every twist and curve is for lying and cursing.

Live in us, Jesus. Live in us. Or we are nothing, and worse. Clothe us, hide our shame, our ugliness. The hope of our world -- my world -- is when you so indwell each human shell that all things are remade. When we are an army by incarnation, the body of God Almighty himself, then darkness will be overcome by light divine. Hands will do good, even to the bad. Feet will stand faithfully, despite fear and enticements. Lips will speak authentic words, and manipulative flattery will be drowned out by deep-rooted praise.

I groan for this redemption. I grown to see that which is not me in me removed, so I might be the me in you. If not by grace and gentle words, then by judgment and the sword. Release us, Savior, Lord of of Hosts, from these chains -- if not by the fresh rain of blessing, then by fire. And when we are tilled and made ready, plant within us your life, your Word, so we may live in you and forever leave behind the hatefully and despised lie that we live from and to ourselves. Amen.