"Hold a Mirror to My Heart, O God" (Psalm 19:14)

(Psalm 19:14 has been my screen saver on my laptop for years. It is one of my morning prayers ... it is ever before me and is my compass in the manner by which I share and write and speak)

May this prayer never become rote, O God …

mechanical in the way that I pray these words …

assuming that if I pray this bit of a Psalm

I might persuade you

that my words and my thoughts

are aligned with yours

(even when they are not).

Hold a mirror to my heart as I pray.

May this prayer never become cavalier, O God …

careless in the way that I pray these words …

never considering that I might have allowed

those around me to change

my heart and my words

that in no way resemble you….

that are neither pleasing nor acceptable

in your sight.

Hold a mirror to my heart as I pray.

May this prayer never be whispered

in a common manner, O God,

less these deeply personal words

become diluted.

Hold a mirror to my heart as I pray.

May the words of my mouth

and the meditation of my heart

be pleasing AND acceptable

in your sight, O LORD,

my rock and my redeemer.

Amen.

"THE PLANS FOR ME" (prayer for Jeremiah 29:11)

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

It is I who dwells upon the word 'prosper' in ways that aren't of your intention, O God. You want us to 'thrive' in your ways, not ours. You have plans for us to thrive in love and peace, in hope and trust. Help me to live in the plans that you have for me, to be overjoyed in them, to be thankful for them, to be prosperous in them ... to thrive! 

Amen.

"I REMEMBER"

(Thoughts on the day and evening of  the 9/11 attacks)

I remember

the most beautiful blue skies,

white billowy clouds

and gentle breeze.

I remember

children rolling down a grassy hill,

hearts filled only with giggles and joy …

and I remember

the tears that filled my eyes

because their innocence

would soon be shattered

when they were told of the news.

I remember

a great desire to scoop them up,

shielding them forever

from things such as

fear and terror and sadness.

I remember

walking into a church that evening …

one that wasn’t my own …

a sanctuary filled

with strangers

and never feeling more alone

then I did among them.

I remember

and will always remember

the touch on my shoulder

and the whisper in my ear

from a stranger.

I remember

that he walked across the aisle

as the pastor spoke.

I remember

his words of compassion…

“I don’t want you to think

that you are alone.”

I remember seeking him out

so that I wouldn’t be alone

as I left the church that night.

He stopped

and introduced himself to me.

He smiled at his child

and then at me and said,

“My daughter’s name is Anna”

I will always remember his face

when I said,

“And I am Anna as well.”

I remember

that at that very moment

he realized why

he had chosen me to touch

and to offer words of assurance

to this other Anna, …

a stranger to him,

alone among the hundreds.

As I remember

18 years ago,

I hope to also remember

that others feel alone

in the crowds of their world,

for whatever reason.

O God,

point me to the one

who most needs

to know that they are not alone,

to the one who needs a touch,

to the one who needs a

reassuring whisper.

Gracious and Loving God,

help me to always remember…

give me words most needed …

nudge me to touch someone’s shoulder

so that you might touch someone’s

helplessness and hopelessness.

I remember … may I never forget.

.

OH, TO BE AN OXYMORON

Good Samaritan.

I searched 

and the word,

‘oxymoron’

doesn’t appear

in my Bible.

Good Samaritan.

It’s much like 

jumbo shrimp

or freezer burn,

you know.

The two words

don’t seem to go together

for we read

that there was nothing

good about a Samaritan.

But maybe, just maybe

Jesus asks us to be

oxymorons, 

described in the truth

of two words,

joined together

in ways that are

puzzling

to the world

around us.

O God …

help me to be 

an oxymoron.

One who looks

into someone's eyes ...

and heart ...

and pain ...

and sets aside

the need to know

what others think.

Help me, O God,

to be an oxymoron.

A generous giver.

A compassionate Christian.

A loving neighbor.

A “good Samaritan".

May I puzzle the world

around me

and, like any good oxymoron,

help others see 

your Truth

and Love

in surprising ways.

Oh, God, help me to be an oxymoron.

"I Loved You First"

It was Annual Conference in the Western NC Conference last week.  It's the one Sunday in the year that I offer the Sunday's message. I chose the sermon title from words that Mom began to say to us in her last months … “I Loved You First”. My brother said, “Anna, please don’t ask me to be there. I just can’t with that sermon title.” I was OK with that.

Then I found out that the first hymn would be “Blessed Assurance”. I sang that to Mom the Saturday before she passed away. Topping that was the song that our guest soloist would be singing .. “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”. That was the first song that Mom sang to my brother when he was born. I shared the song selections with him. He yelled (well, as much as one can "yell" in a text), “How are YOU going to get through the service?” I told him that I would be OK. He chose to worship in Charlotte at Myers Park UMC instead.

I found out that the liturgist for the morning was Duncan McCall (who was a pallbearer at Mom’s service, I might add). I once again texted my brother and said, “You won’t believe this ….” His response was, in all seriousness, “Anna, YOU need to call in sick.”

No, I didn’t call in sick. And I made it through the hour. The fullness of voices coming from visitors and our congregation that morning wrapped me up in the words of “Blessed Assurance.” The soloist sang “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands” in a way that was far beyond a mom-rendition. And the liturgist read the scriptures with the confidence of Paul’s words.

And no, I didn’t select the music or choose the liturgist. It was an amazing morning of worship … pretty much God-planned, don’t you think?

“Filled with His goodness, lost in His love …. This is my story, this is my song!”

"Do This in Remembrance ..." (Maundy Thursday / Holy Week)

(As I think of this night so long ago, the night we now call Holy/Maundy Thursday, I realize that Jesus not only washed the feet of the one who would betray him, but he prepared a place at the table for him as well. It is the same today. He still prepares the table for all… even for me.  “Do this in remembrance of me”, he said. So, as gathered Christians, we remember Jesus’ great, unimaginable love and presence and the way of the cross. We actively participate in being the hands and feet of Christ as we wait for his return.  And we are reminded that God’s grace and mercy is for everyone for we all fall short of being who we are called to be.)

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies.

It was when you asked me to help,

O God, that I truly understood ...

or at least understood

in the way that you asked me

to understand.

You handed a chalice to me

from the table you prepared

and whispered, "For all."

I gulped.  "Oh God... really?

For all?"

You whispered again,

"Look into their eyes,

offer to them what I have prepared,

Some might be your enemies,

but none of them are mine."

And so I stood,

at the end of an aisle,

with chalice in hand

and wept at the thoughts

of my enemies welcomed

to the table

that was prepared for me

in such a generous way.

The table was not mine;

the guest list was not mine;

the chalice never ran dry ...

nor did the grace and mercy.

Once again, I heard,

"Do this in remembrance ...

and remember,

these are not my enemies."

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies,

and then you say, "All sit ... together."

And still the chalice never runs dry

for those around the table -

not even for me.

PREPARATION

Days before

my mother passed away,

I gave her a simple manicure …

I gently rubbed lotion 

on her hands

and feet 

and face …

I brushed her hair

and placed a hint of color

on her lips.

As I look back on that morning,

I see that it was 

Preparation.

She reached out 

for my hand.

I took it and began to slowly sing

“Blessed Assurance.”

Without a sound,

she mouthed the words

as I sang; 

she squeezed my hand

in time to the music.

I proclaimed with joy, 

“We are singing a duet!”

As I look back on that morning,

I see that it was

Preparation.

Preparation for her duet

with Another …

and my duet 

with Another

as well.

Blessed Assurance.

Yes, as I look back on that morning,

I see that it was all

Preparation.

(My mother, Betty Lazenby Murdock, passed away on 4-4-19)