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After the mad dash from Egypt’s sweatshops and migrant labor camps—and after the Prophet Miriam led the people in songs of liberation—the People of Exodus trudge through the wilderness of privation and discontent, where dreams of the Promised Land of Plenty grow distant and dim. Unrelenting thirst overtakes them. Cotton-mouthed complaints grow louder.

Is the Lord among us or not?

First at the pool at Marrah [bitterness] then the land of Massah [testing] and Meribah [quarrelling], the Beloved responds.

The staff of Moses that parted the drowning waters of the sea first sweetens the pool and now strikes water from the barren rock.

Strike the rock, Brother Moses! Put your back into it! Let the waters of refreshment bathe every sweltering soul.

Strike your tambourine, Sister Miriam. Resolve again the cries of fear into shouts of jubilation.

Strike the rock, Brother Moses, cheating death from its wilderness prey.

Strike your tambourine, Sister Miriam. Sing of water’s baptismal glory.

Strike the rock, Brother Moses. Let the desert run wet with Mercy’s minaret, slake every parched throat with delight.

Strike your tambourine, Sister Miriam. Let songs fill the air of banished despair and the thirst for righteousness incite!

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Exodus 15, 17 & Matthew 5:6.

Drenched by Jordan’s buoyant power, confirmed by dove’s anointing perch, conformed to Heaven’s sundering plow, bewildering days now beckon.

Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, off to the famishing wilds now tread.

To face the full force of the Tempter’s enticements: Can the river’s wet mark endure wilderness heat?

Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, pondering stones transformed into bread.

Ascending the mountain, its vistas of power, relentless domain and virulent reign.

Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, allured by the promise of royal-crowned head.

To piety’s palace, the temple’s high peak, fame could gotten by magical feat.

Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, with majesty, regency, glory now wed.

Yet the Tempter’s allure, the Confuser’s bright lie, failed to temper that wandering pilgrim’s reply.

Spirit-led and Spirit-fed, the wilderness welcomes us all.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Luke 4:1-13.

Attention,
all you spiritual shoppers.
There are no discounts. No sale prices.
No fifty percent off summer specials, no bonus miles,
no pre-inventory clearance or back-to-school savings.

There are no shortcuts to faith, no money-back guarantees, no lifetime warranties or last-minute deals.

There are no wading pools. The depths are deep and
turbulence is standard. Every minute is your last.

If you want a God-soaked life, move to the margins.
Plant sequoias.* Find an eroded field and stake your
soul on its reclamation.

Synchronize your hope to an abandoned child’s heartbeat.
Set your sights on the interest from millennial investments.

Say o’er the clamor of all merchandizing madness:
           Life is not had
     by what is possessed,
                 but only by
     what has been promised.**

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Prov 29:18. *Line from Wendell Berry, “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front**Line from Walter Brueggemann, Living Toward a Vision.

In seasons of dark desire eyes strain for Eden’s refrain and flickered light ’mid the fright of earth’s travail. Oh, Beloved …

Unleash your Voice of Pardon from wrath’s consuming reign. Speak peace to the hungered of heart.

Spring from the ground, hope-soaked, heeding Glory’s approach and steadfast love’s embrace. Oh, Beloved . . .

Unleash your Voice of Pardon from wrath’s consuming reign. Speak peace to the hungered of heart.

Let every just and gentle lip pucker up for the wedded kiss of peace! Oh, Beloved . . .

Unleash your Voice of Pardon from wrath’s consuming reign. Speak peace to the hungered of heart.

Goodness is given, and righteousness granted, to guard and guide each wayfaring step. Oh, Beloved . . .

Unleash your Voice of Pardon from wrath’s consuming reign. Speak peace to the hungered of heart.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Psalm 85.

As the nations rage, as the memory of bitter blood stains our hearts, we languish on the porticoes of pain, near to the healing water’s stir. But who dares carry us to the resurrection pool?

We remember today, fifty years since past, the buoyant life of Denise McNair, age 11, caught up in the deadly virtue of bomb-laden revenge.

The blind, the lamed, the halt and shamed assemble to ask: Who can take me to the water?

We remember today the buoyant life of Carol Robertson, age 14, caught up in the deadly virtue of bomb-laden revenge.

The cowered, the forlorn—yes, even we who cling to our paralyzing pallets—await the angels’ erupting presence.

We remember today the buoyant life of Cynthia Wesley, age 14, caught up in the deadly virtue of bomb-laden revenge.

By what authority dares anyone say, “Stand up. And walk.”

We remember today the buoyant life of Addie Mae Collins, age 14, caught up in the deadly virtue of bomb-laden revenge.

Gracious One, take us to that water that we may

Wade in the water that wears down the rock, walk in the power that can’t be stopped.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by John 5:1-9 on the 50th anniversary of the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, Birmingham, Alabama. The final verse adapts language from the refrain of Pat Wictor’s “Love is the Water.”

Come to the Mercy Seat, to hear
the Word of gracious entreaty:
Life is more than bartered goods;
more still than hedged funds
                 and market share.

Come to the Mercy Seat, to hear
the Word of gracious appeal:
Faith is more than philosophical posture;
          more still than fondling guarantee.

Come to the Mercy Seat, to hear
     the Word of gracious insistence:
Hope is more than risk aversion;
     more still than fingers crossed
           or fanciful dreaming.

Come to the Mercy Seat, to hear
the Word of gracious imperative:
Love is more than reciprocal affection;
     more still than curried favor
           or compounded interest.

Come to the Mercy Seat, to hear
the Word of gracious release:
You have been sired in Mercy
     and suckled in pardon;
           weaned on grace and
           restored by forgiveness.

Come to the Mercy Seat, for earth
has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Final phrase from the hymn “Come, Ye Disconsolate,” Thomas Moore, alt. by Thomas Hastings.

Revel in the Beloved’s presence, every day and every way. Organize every nerve in your body to help you stay in touch with God’s nearness.

Shower encouragement everywhere you go.

Fretfulness and anxiety are like monsters in the closet. Get up, go over and throw open the door, yelling “AM-SCRAY!” Get lost!

Shower encouragement everywhere you go.

Trust the deepest longings of your heart with the One who takes great delight in loving you. Make gratitude your point of orientation every day, and do everything you can to stay on its trail.

Shower encouragement everywhere you go.

If you practice these things, your life will experience the kind of buoyancy that will keep you afloat even in the worst storm. Indeed the greatest peace possible is the fearless confidence that nothing essential can be taken from you.

Shower encouragement everywhere you go.

In the grip of Serenity’s Presence you’ll be able to think clearly in the midst of turmoil; and your heart will guide you, even in the worst wilderness, to the place of refuge and nourishment.

Shower encouragement everywhere you go.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Philippians 4:4-7.

Beloved, we give thanks:
For those who plow and plant,
those who harvest
and those who harbor
the promise of the day when all shall eat and be satisfied.

We give thanks:
For the day when all go out in joy
and are led back in peace,
the hills bursting in song, the trees in applause.

On that day no backs
shall bend in stress,
no arms ache or hands callous,
nor shirts drench in sweat,
with the bounty bound for the tables
of those whose eyes already swell out in fatness.

May that day mark the end of those
with no ears for the tears of distress,
with no pity on the forlorn,
scorning desolated souls
who cower and genuflect
in hopes of a morsel of bread and a sip of joy.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Psalm 73:7 & Isaiah 55:12.

Background: When the Nazi party took power in Germany in 1933, they began an organized campaign to exterminate the Jewish race. By the end of World War II, 6 million Jews lay dead. Never has there been a more systematic, intentional attempt at genocide. In addition, the Nazis executed at least another 5 million others considered “undesirable,” including dissidents, prisoners of war, Romani (Gypsies), the disabled, and homosexuals.

Dear God: We confess that it is beyond our capacity to imagine the magnitude and meaning of the holocaust of the Jews.

Hunted. Hounded. Herded.

Shot. Gassed. Starved. Worked to death.

Incinerated.

At least one million children. Two million women. Three million men.

We acknowledge that many among those who devised and implemented this unspeakable horror were those who breathed your Name in their liturgy of carnage.

Gott mit uns (“God with us”), inscribed on the belt buckle of every German soldier, has been the motto of empires of every age.

Including our own “one nation, under God.”

Free us, we pray, from the tyranny of all such gods. Grant us the gumption to be heretics in the face of every such fraudulent use of your Name.

Bind our hearts and hands in the manner of Immanuel*, as in God-with-us Jesus, who faced with disarmed truth the terror of his own age.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. For a service commemorating Yom Ha’Shoah, commonly known as Holocaust Remembrance Day. *Isaiah 7:14, 8:8; Matthew 1:23.

Blessed be the God of earth’s garden-green home. Great is your mercy; and tender, your might.

You raise up a Ransom to barter our fate from death’s sure dominion and every dark fright.

From slavery’s chains you fashion a scepter to heal and reveal Heaven’s righteous intent.

From landless oppression to harvest aplenty, by a path through deep waters of drowning lament.

For barren Elizabeth: a seed now conceives, for redemption of shame and repentance to preach.

For priestly Zechariah: now muddled, befuddled by angel’s ascent, implausible news now arresting all speech.

To such are conception and vision conveyed. Disgrace now removed and tongue soon released.

The dawn shall soon break on all shadow-bound eyes: guiding, confiding all footsteps to peace.

Then John grew in stature, in measure and spirit.

Wilderness dwelling, all penitent hear it.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah in Luke 1.