I don’t know about you, but I am experiencing a deep sense of sadness this week for those who are affected by the awful virus that is ravaging some areas of our country and the world.  Medical personnel and others are toiling long hours under extreme conditions to help those infected by COVID-19.   Now it is closer to home.   At the time, there are nine confirmed cases in our county.  In a neighboring county, we mourn the loss of one who was a beloved deputy, school resource officer, husband, and the father of young children.  In the North Carolina Conference, we grieve in the loss of a young pastor in the Harbor District who preached to her congregation online last Sunday.  And, in the midst of the chaos, we pause to give thanks for the blessing of healing from the virus in the life of a much beloved United Methodist pastor in the Western North Carolina Conference.

This week we are told by medical officials to brace for the worst that is yet to come.  In all of the sadness, where do we find hope and blessing?  Psalm 59:16 tells us, “But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.”  The Lord is our strength and blessing.  The Lord is our fortress and refuge.  The Lord is our hope and blessing.

In her poem, Blessing in the Chaos, writer and artist Jan Richardson expresses the blessing God gives us in times like these.

To all that is chaotic in you,

let there come silence.

Let there be a calming

of the clamoring, a stilling

of the voices that have laid their claim on you,

that have made their home in you,

that go with you even to the holy places

but will not let you rest,

will not let you hear your life

with wholeness

or feel the grace

that fashioned you.

Let what distracts you cease.

Let what divides you cease.

Let there come an end

to what diminishes and demeans,

and let depart all that keeps you in its cage.

Let there be an opening into the quiet

that lies beneath the chaos,

where you find the peace

you did not think possible

and see what shimmers within the storm.

(from The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief)

 I am reminded of Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God!  I am exalted among the nations; I am exalted in the earth.  The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.”  Be still.  The blessing is in the stillness.  It is in the staying home we have been asked to do.  I hope that you see it as a gift.  For indeed, it is.  Staying home allows us to experience God’s presence, cling to God’s grace, and rest in God’s mercy.  It draws us away from “the voices that have laid their claim on you (us)” and “will not let you (us) rest.”  Staying home and resting with God opens us to the “quiet that lies beneath the chaos” where blessing is possible.

Read John 17:1-26

Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber has written a prayer that resonates with most of us these days. If we pray it carefully, slowly, we can find ourselves in it.  After all, we together as the church, the nation, and the world, are in the middle of a difficult time together.  We are doctors, nurses, grocery store workers, shoppers, pastors, parents, neighbors, church family, the elderly, the young, the unemployed, the hungry, the homeless, and those who never seem to get a break from the endless hours of work.  It is on behalf of us, the prayer is written.

God who made us all,

Our healers are exhausted, God. Give rest to those who care for the sick.

Our children are bored, God. Grant extra creativity to their caregivers.

Our friends are lonely, God. Help us to reach out.

Our pastors are doing the best they can, God. Help them to know it is enough.

Our workers are jobless, God. Grant us the collective will to take care of them.

Our fellow parents are losing their minds, God. Bring unexpected play and joy and dance parties to all in need.

Our grocery workers are absorbing everyone’s anxiety, God. Protect them from us.

Our elderly are even more isolated God. Comfort them.

We haven’t done this before and we are scared, God.

I don’t even know what else to pray for.

Amen.

Can you identify with the prayer?  Do you see yourself in its words?  I know that I do.  The prayer helps us to name our pain.  Author Brian McLaren says, “…there is enormous power in simple, strong words – the words by which we name our pain and then translate it into a request to God.”  The words of prayer also help draw us together as God’s beloved children.

Maybe we have forgotten the connection we share, not only with our family, our friends, or our faith community, but with others.  Now, we must acknowledge this connection through the days and nights of wondering what will happen not only to ourselves in this frightening time, but to others.  Do we remember that Jesus prayed for us in his prayer in John 17?  “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.  As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” (21-22)

In this time of separation from those we love and upon whom we depend, we can discover something priceless – the sacred connection that can grow us stronger through, not in spite of, our anxieties, fears, disappointments, and struggles.

Jesus, our gracious friend, is available to us.  He prayed for us and we pray for others.  The wonderful thing is, we don’t have to earn anything, deserve anything, achieve anything, or merit anything to bring our requests to God. We can come as we are.  When we “don’t know even what else to pray for,” may we sit in silence before God and let God pray for us.

The past few days have many of us feeling vulnerable, lonely, and uncertain of the days ahead.  We are not experienced in dealing with a pandemic like the one that is upon us.  And, the thing is, the entire world is affected by it, not only us.  In the midst of fear and anxiety for many, I’m clinging to hope, savoring moments of joy, and reminding myself that this is a season that I have no manual for and no experience with.  None of us do.  And, by God’s grace we will get through this stronger and more connected with each other and with God.

A couple of days ago was St. Patrick’s Day.  Coming from Irish heritage, I celebrate and remember my family history and reach back many years to pray a portion of the prayer known as “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” attributed to St. Patrick, fifth century missionary to Ireland.  The prayer gives me peace and comfort and offers a rich range of scriptural teaching and the mystery of Christ’s presence.  Each day, during the season of Lent, I meditate on it line by line.  This year especially, it is an appropriate, powerful prayer as I attempt to navigate an uncharted path and future.

I have shared a familiar portion the prayer with you at the bottom of this page and I invite you to pray it each day and to reflect upon the words of presence in them. We are not alone in the journey through this pandemic. We are living in a new reality with our brothers and sisters in our community and across the world.  None of us are exempt. As you meditate upon the words of the prayer, please take your time and do not limit the sense of the holy and of God’s presence, of who Christ is, and of how the Spirit moves among us.  Remember, “We are not alone, we live in God’s world.  We believe in God: who has creating and is creating, who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh, to reconcile and make new, who works in us and others by the Spirit.” (UMH, 883)

Christ be with me, Christ within me,

Christ behind me, Christ before me,

Christ beside me, Christ to win me,

Christ to comfort and restore me,

Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,

Christ in the hearts of all who love me,

Christ in the mouth of friend and stranger.

 

(From an adaptation of a section of “St. Patrick’s Breastplate” by Cecil Alexander and Charles Stanford.  Original prayer attributed to St. Patrick, fifth century.)