O eternal God, as we prepare to turn the calendar from one year to the next we pray in the words of the psalmist that you will teach us to number our days so we may gain hearts of wisdom. Help us learn from the mistakes we have made in the past so we can lead better lives in the future. Forgive us for the times we have disobeyed your will so we can live free from the burden of regret and guilt.
Help us to forgive those who have wronged us either on purpose or accidentally so we can live free from anger or feelings of being a victim.
As we pray for all those in need this day – those forced to live or work in frigid conditions, those enslaved by addictions, those suffering from illness, grief or chronic pain, help us find ways to comfort and empower them.
The New Year is a wonderful time to reflect on the past, to review our life goals and find the true purpose you have for us. Like Simeon and Anna, we pray that we can be faithful in worship and so focused on seeking your will that when our days are over we will be satisfied. Help us renew our vows of allegiance to you and your kingdom so that walking with you is not just a new year’s resolution or an item on our bucket list. Give us courage to make our faith and service to you the all-encompassing purpose of our lives, not just at Christmas but every day of the year.
Remind us again that to be followers of Christ means to devote our lives to making disciples; to witnessing to the Gospel by the way we live our lives. We are not here to accumulate wealth or possessions. We are here to do justice, love mercy and to walk humbly with you, O God. Our prayer is to do that with all of our being – at home, at school, at work or wherever we are – to share the peace and joy of Christmas with all the world. The Christmas story doesn’t end today or on Epiphany – it continues whenever we as the modern supporting cast live into the wonder and mystery of your love.
We ask these things in the name of Emmanuel, God with us, as we offer the prayer he taught us to pray.
Gracious God, as we go through the season of advent hearing the familiar stories, singing the beloved carols, there’s something very comforting about the traditions and the familiarity of the whole Christmas season. We feel cozy and at home with it all, and that’s good—up to a point.
But please pull a few surprises on us like you did with Elizabeth and Zechariah. Don’t let us get so much into auto pilot that our traditions become routine and lose their power. That first Christmas was anything but routine. Old women and virgins conceived, expectant parents were forced by foreign rulers to travel miles for a census only to be told they had to sleep in a barn.
But you had other plans, O God, and those oppressive rulers got upstaged by divine mischief and incarnation. Caesar and Herod took a back seat to a helpless baby in a manger!
What surprises do you have instore for our troubled and broken world this year, Lord? What unexpected and unheralded messengers of peace are you going to reveal to us in 2017. In these dark and cold shortest days of the year where will your light shine to show us your way of truth and justice? What healing miracles have you prepared for us? What acts of kindness and mercy is your Holy Spirit going to stir up in us to perform for those who least expect it.
Amid the clang and clamor of a world that has lost its way, dazzle us with a star that will lead us to Christ. Empower us like Elizabeth to believe the impossible so we can help produce for our time voices that cry in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord – Not back then but here and now. Whisper again in our ears the assurance that nothing in all creation can separate us from your amazing love in Jesus Christ. In his holy name we witness to your power as we join our voices in his prayer.
The Sunday before Ash Wednesday is one of my favorites of the church year. It’s called Transfiguration Sunday because it marks a critical turning point in the life and ministry of Jesus. The Gospel lesson that day is the story of Jesus taking 3 of his closest disciples with him up a mountain where they have a vision of Jesus transfigured before them talking to Moses and Elijah. It’s such a beautiful mountain top moment that Peter suggests they should build 3 booths there to commemorate the occasion.
Just then God breaks into the silence and says, “This is my beloved Son, listen to him.” This moment is so central to the Christian story that all three Synoptic Gospels tell it almost verbatim. (Matthew 17:1-8, Mark 9:2-8, Luke 9:28-36) In other words the church knew this was important stuff and we too need to listen to what Jesus says.
And what he must have said to them, although we aren’t told, is that it’s time to go back down the mountain and be about the work of the Kingdom of God. The story always reminds me of another mountain top encounter that Elijah had in I Kings 19:9. In that story Elijah has fled to Mt. Horeb for fear of his life. Queen Jezebel has threatened him, and her threats could not be taken lightly. God sustains Elijah on the journey and gives him some needed alone time, but then, just as on the Mt. of Transfiguration, God says, “Yes, you need time to refresh, but you can’t homestead in a state of perpetual retreat.” Actually what I Kings says is that God says to Elijah straight out and to the point, “Elijah, what are you doing here?” Not once but twice.
As we begin the season of Lent again this year God is asking us the same question? Lent is a time for reflection and prayer and meditation. It is a time to recharge our spiritual batteries. But that is a means to an end. It is a time for spiritual discipline to ask ourselves again, “What are we doing here?” What is our purpose for being? What is God calling us to do? What does it mean for you and me in 2017 to listen to Jesus? I mean really listen. It may be some tough love we hear, and if we really listen we will be transfigured.
Here’s how one author who wrestled with those hard questions all his life described what that experience was like for him:
“My prayer is not the whimpering of a beggar nor a confession of love. Nor is it the trivial reckoning of a small tradesman: Give me and I shall give you.
My prayer is the report of a soldier to his general: This is what I did today, this is how I fought to save the entire battle in my own sector, these are the obstacles I found, this is how I plan to fight tomorrow.” (Nikos Kazantzakis, “Saviors of God: Spiritual Exercises”)
What are you doing here? What’s your plan to serve Jesus today?