Sunday Sermonizing: Lenten Prayers (vol. 2)

Father -

There should be more joy when the sun rises -
knowing your kindness and faithfulness as cause.
More satisfaction for what's been given
less lust for what's not mine.
Are you not as good and kind for what I don't possess
as you are for gifts I've received?
Hope should be a constant.
Not something to only be experienced at a moment
and to be dashed when chameleon feelings transfigure.
Or experience reorders.
Or the weather evolves
and the winds blow bitter in my face.
You don't change.
And, oddly enough, I forget that.

So I ask for mercy and forgiveness.

You are enough. I know this.
Yet - sometimes you are not.
Help me embrace your presence
every time I know you're there.
Help me to rest in the dark,
understanding your exact character
and everything you are.

There should be greater faith
when worlds collide
when my false hopes don't work out the way I expected. Or thought they.
I've hoped in false things. There should be so much more trust
in difficulty, unrest, and uncertainty
because a lot of things are uncertain.
And that's okay.
THere should be so much less unbelief
that you will prove yourself good.
Again. Like you always do.
Less faith and less hope mean less joy - and that should never be.

So help me see.
Help me see the detail in your masterworks
and hear the subtleties of your song
and understand the beauty in the plot twists
of the story you're telling -
knowing the ending will be more than we could ever dream
and, when that time arrives, we will wonder - I will wonder -
how could we have doubted?

So I ask for mercy and forgiveness.

You are enough. I know this.
Yet - sometimes you are not.
Help me embrace your presence
every time I know you're there.
Help me to rest in the dark,
understanding your exact character
and everything you are.

For your patient kindness,
I am always humbled
and grateful.