Satisfied

You silence the roaring of the seas, the roaring of their waves, the tumult of the peoples. You visit the earth … and water its furrows abundantly, settling its ridges, softening it with showers, and blessing its growth. You crown the year with your bounty. – Psalm 65:7-11a (NRSV, abridged)

There are tumultuous waves that are too jarring and too loud. They pop like gunfire, they scream like missiles, they weep like hunger, they groan like grief. With every crash of another wave, boats capsize, communities are dumped from their protection, and children’s cries are lost in the vast turmoil.

When the waves are unrelenting, we pray to God to calm the storms, to comfort the roars, to offer a lullaby against the tumult.

There are imposing cliffs that are too sharp and too steep. They rise relentlessly in the path of love, they stand grimly in the way of community, they cast hellish shadows over hope, they taunt new life with their parched landscape. To climb them is to become bruised and thirsty. To avoid them is to concede joy and possibility.

When the cliffs surround us, we pray to God to soften the ridges, to pour rain over the rocks, to nourish the soil for growth.

There are terrible, horrible, no good, very bad seasons that are too harsh and too heartless. They cast mercy to the side, they upend schedules and savings, they measure each day with misery. They deny warmth from the sun and rest from the moon.

When the days are overwhelming, we pray to God for the gift of grace, for the dignity of a deep breath, for the beauty of holy timeliness.

Prayer

Silence the waves, erode the cliffs, and crown the year by your goodness, O God.