Recent

Jesus told his disciples a parable about those who get too big for their britches.

Who could that be? Hope it’s not me.

Two men stopped by the hospice chapel to pray. One was spiritual-but-not-religious (SNR). Big on centering prayer, sweat lodges, Taizé music and Tibetan prayer flags. On top of that, he’s an activist, an act-of-conscience jailbird, recycles everything, vegetarian, drives a hybrid, ACLU member, makes his own granola.

Could be me, if you add green tea.

The other was a tea-partying born-again beer-bellied redneck. Looks forward to county fair food and Charlie Pride and Patsy Cline music. Says you’uns when speaking second person plural. Eats Wonder Bread and baloney sandwiches and chews Red Man. Never heard of Jon Stewart. Tears up singing the national anthem. Wants the guv’ment to keep its hands off his Medicare.

Might be me, if born under a (really) different star.

When the SNR saw the beer-belly walk in, he paused his quiet Ojibwe prayer chant and scowled under his breath, “Thank Goddess I don’t have his cholesterol level!”

The Wonder Bread man, having just heard his babygirl’s final breath, cried out, “He’p me, Lawdjesus!”

So now I ask: Whose prayer do you think lit a fire in Heaven that day?

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Luke 18:9-14.

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.

Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, "Be strong, fear not! Behold, your God will come with divine recompense to save you."

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then shall the lame one leap like a deer, and the tongue of the dumb sing for joy.

Waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water.

The haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there.

And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with singing.

Everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Using and adapting lines from Isaiah 35.

The troubling breath of the
Blessed One broke into speech:
“Oh human one, hear my question and answer rightly.
Can these bones live? Can these bones live?”

Only You know. Only You know.

 “Then prophesy to these skeletal remains.”

Oh dry bones, hear the Word of the
One whose breath brings refreshment.
Flesh shall follow sinew; moist skin
will be stretched in supple layers.

Breathe, oh dry bones, breathe again!
The rumble of life shall overwhelm
           the rattle of death.
Graveyards shall open and spill
     their captives into fertile fields.

Breathe, oh dry bones, breathe again!
     Fill your lungs with Spirit’s Wind.
Sons and daughters, old ones and young,
     meadow and mountain, beast and bird,
the One present at creation shall be honored again.
On that day, no longer shall any govern
           by threat of the grave.

Spirit descend! Breathe on us, Breath of God.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Ezekiel 37 & Acts 2.

The world is God’s and it will not fall apart.

The new age which the Lord has begun cannot be driven out or held back.

The church need not live out of fear as though the gospel were not true.

Instead, we are destined to live toward freedom, toward the pain of the world, toward the hurt of the world, toward the joy of the world:

The hurt and pain the world does not understand and the joy the world does not anticipate.

As Jesus left he reminded the church that we are able to risk much because we are safe.

We may need to focus much on shalom as a task, but it begins at the table as assurance.

So bring your fears to the table of bounty.

Here the bread of promise and the cup of joy shall soothe every seething heart, loosen every clenched fist.

Here find your freedom, casting off the rule of shame with hearts sustained by the goodness of God in the land of the living.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Adapting language from Living Toward a Vision by Walter Brueggemann and Psalm 27:13

Listen, God. Pay attention. Bend your ear to the sigh of my soul.

The world can be too much.

Floods devastate the lives of friends in the Midwest. Drought continues here in the Southeast. Health care costs and foreclosures and the price of tortillas have us scrambling for spare change.

The world can be too much.

While public opinion slowly turns against Guantanamo’s tortured cells, its twin facility—Bagram prison, in Afghanistan—is getting a $60 million expansion.

The world can be too much.

At Marion prison, the drumbeat of a Native American service of prayer for healing competes with the report of rifle fire from the guards’ practice range just beyond the walls.

The world can be too much—for us, but not for You.

For you are the Author of wondrous things. You are gracious, overflowing with steadfast mercy, a constant and patience presence. You grant strength to those who falter, new beginnings for those who fail, a welcome-home hug in our return from prodigal journeys.

Teach us Your ways, oh Wondrous One, that we may walk the boulevard of beauty, the road of justice, the highway of peace!

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Psalm 81.

Each of you, a bordered country,  / Delicate and strangely made proud, / Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit / Have left collars of waste upon / My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet today I call you to my riverside, / If you will study war no more. Come, / Clad in peace, and I will sing the songs / The Creator gave to me when I and the / Tree and the rock were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your / Brow and when you yet knew you still / Knew nothing.

The River sang and sings on. . . .

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God.

On either side of the river is the tree of life, and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. First four stanzas excerpted from “On the Pulse of the morning,” by Maya Angelou; last two, from Revelation 22:1-2.

Listen to the voice of Wisdom, O people of folly. Hear the voice of understanding as She makes Her stand at the city gate and presides in the town square.

“All of you, hear my cry. Your lives are marked by trivial pursuits. Deceitful ways and crooked days are unbecoming, no matter how much gold acquired or jewel-attired.”

Guided by Wisdom’s voice every ruler’s choice leans toward just and worthy decrees.

By Wisdom’s way the earth conveys redemption’s mercy tree.

Before all time did Wisdom rhyme the depths with mountains’ frame.

Before fertile field did yield its store, there Wisdom made her claim.

‘Twas in God’s design did Wisdom shine, resplendent firmament.

‘Twas in God’s delight, by day, by night, by Her the world content.

Sing out, O pilgrim—raise your hymn—to Wisdom’s melody.

Recite Her ways with constant praise, confirm the Jubilee!

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Proverbs 8.

Doubtless one day you will have cause
to chant the Prophet’s lament:

            Truly
           thou art a God
           who hidest thyself.

Even so, I still prefer this One to the other,
more snuggly brand, who feigns intimacy
but has the aroma of cheap perfume,
cheaper wine and layered sweat,
having been passed around by too many
lusty barkers for whom ecstasy's aftermath
           is nauseous stupor.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Citing Isaih 45:15.

The payback of Heaven neither tortures nor torments.

The vengeance of God is Christ’s victory of mercy,
o’er all venal indenture and vile deception.

The terror of God is the Risen One’s threat
to every merchant of death, every marketer’s breath,
every peddler of gun-wielding promise of power,

Whose assault is but aimed at the shame which
confounds and ensnares you.

Rise up with joy, every fleshly heart, to greet the
     One who entreats you;
Who from the dust has made you,
                             Who savors you,
                 Who knows you by name
                 and now comes to reclaim.

For your Champion shall raise you
     with Pardon’s full measure.
Earth’s delight will one day rise up
           to embrace the treasure
           of God’s steadfast love,
                 now and ever.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Psalm 103.

Every bird in flight, every creature of sea, every hair of every head is numbered and known.

In darkness and in light, whether happy or sad, asleep or awake, there is an Advocate who lingers, Who does not forget, Who notices every tear and cherishes all laughter.

Who is this Advocate, this gracious Father, this guardian Mother, this Presence whose Way is peace, whose Will is justice, whose Weal is shaped in mercy.

This One’s name cannot be contained, cannot be captured, cannot be controlled.

The Name above every name will not be tamed, will always slip from grasping hands, will not be hoarded or harvested for a profit.

The Blessed One comes to those with empty hands; to those on bended knee; to those of generous heart and gentle tongue.

This is the Master who abolishes slavery; the Lord who banishes privilege; the Savior who redeems without revenge.

Be Thou my vision, O Redeemer of all.

ALL SINGING (“Be Thou My Vision” tune): Heart of my own heart, whatever befall; still be my vision, O Servant of all.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org.