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O Lord, How Long Shall I Cry?
Tag: Prayer
A Snail’s Pace to the Mountaintop
By Kathy Manis Findley
A PAUSE FOR SOME WHIMSY . . . Why don’t we have a little whimsy today? I have invited my snail-friend to join us. And anyway, we all need a little whimsy in these troubling days! So here goes!
I’m sorry to tell you that the snail in the picture will take forever to reach that mountaintop, and you and I simply don’t have the patience to walk with a snail. Even so, I feel good about my chances when racing a snail to get up on top of a mountain!
DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL? . . . Not that this makes any sense at all. Why I would even be considering such a race! In fact, this is completely nonsensical, and if you know me, you know I’m far too serious to entertain whimsy! Makes no sense at all. Oh, but it does make some sense. Let me tell you something about me and what I have learned about the wisdom of the snail and its slow journey!
LIFE CAN BE DEVASTATING . . . When I think of the life catastrophes that have been the hardest for me, the ones that hurt me the most, I immediately recognize that I never slowed down enough to clearly see the unrest brewing around me and inside me. Multi-tasking and acting like an overcommitted, overwhelmed wife, mother, professional minister and hospital chaplain squeezed my spirit enough that I became hopelessly entrapped. That was in my younger days, those days when most of us stretch our commitments to the breaking point.
Before I could change course, I could see my dreams fading and my ability failing. It was impossible for me to reach the top of my mountain. It happened before I realized I was in trouble.
In the light of day, I can somewhat see, but at night, I can hardly see anything—literally and figuratively. But at least I have learned to take time to look up at the stars in a dark sky. It’s easy to see, to envision stars twinkling in the heavens, when you’re still young and when you can still find your hope-filled dreaming place inside you. You can still be breathless, open-eyed and awestruck!
CAN I STILL BE BREATHLESS, OPEN-EYED & AWESTRUCK? . . . To be honest, I must confess to you that I find it difficult to see with my soul, to be open-eyed and enthusiastic. I have lived my life with visions of dreams and hopes, and I have loved the fullness of my days. But being retired is another story altogether.
The story of my young and middle adult days was a story of constant activity, challenges, and tall mountains to climb in search of dreams. Dreams, dreams everywhere! Wherever I looked, I found another dream to dream!
RETIREMENT CAN BE DISHEARTENING . . . Retirement is another thing, and I am there! Illness and aging has nearly shut off my dreaming and visioning. Still, though I am sparring mightily with retirement, in the end I have slowed down to a snail’s pace. And snails probably don’t climb mountains or search for dreams.
What pieces of wisdom can we receive from a snail on a slow slither? Perhaps we should look elsewhere for such wisdom. One of my favorite authors gets to my soul with almost everything he writes. His keen spiritual insight has guided my path time after time. This is what Bishop Steven Charleston has to say about seeing more clearly.
I see more clearly, now that I am aging. Not with my eyesight, but with my soul. I see the fine detail of what I missed in younger years. I see the place of faith and forgiveness in my story. I see the possibilities of life in ways I never imagined. I was not blind in my youth, but my vision was limited to only a few seasons of seeing.
Now I am an old man standing on a hill. I see more clearly. The universe stretches above me in infinite glory and the Earth spreads her shawl to wrap me in creation. Open the eyes of your spirit. Look out in wonder. See the fullness of the life you have received. See the promise of love walking in beauty before you.
— Bishop Steven Charleston
MY FRIENDS FINDING NEW WAYS TO DREAM . . . These are words I can hang on to and patiently learn how aging folk can still hope and dream, and maybe even climb new mountains. It’s possible. I have seen several aging folk on top of the mountains they dreamed of. One of my 70 year old friends travels all over the world. Another has launched out in a new calling to counsel kidney transplant patients. Yet another friend faced a closed door, so she picked up her skills and began a brand new ministry. And one friend left the United States to feed hungry people across the ocean.
All of these friends made it up to the mountaintop, though some of them might have traveled at a snail’s pace. That doesn’t matter, and I have a notion that their secret to life has to do with slowing down and stopping their frenetic pace. Why do that?
To give yourself time to dream, time to contemplate and pray, time to pull your soul back together, time to open your eyes and truly see, time to meet God who may well whisper in your ear . . .
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying,
“Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”
And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”
—Isaiah 6:8 NIV
TIME FOR SILENCE AND CONTEMPLATION . . .So walk on, slow if you have to. Take your time and wait until you hear God’s voice or sense the presence of the Spirit. Give yourself time for silence and prayer and a lot of contemplation. Keep your courage ready, and then go with all your courage when your heart says it’s time. Don’t let the snail discourage you. Your pace, whatever it is, will get you there. Don’t let anyone block your path or steal your dreams! And I’ll meet you on a mountaintop somewhere!
A LOVELY HYMN FOR YOUR QUIET TIME . . .
Here I Am, Lord (Anniversary Recording) · Dan Schutte
Here I Am, Lord (30th Anniversary Edition)
℗ 2001 2009 OCP, 5536 NE Hassalo, Portland, OR 97213. All rights reserved. Made in USA.
All selections BMI.
SHARE YOUR STORY . . .
If you are a new to my blog or have been reading it for years, you are welcome here. If you would like to leave a comment about your experience with slowing down your pace, finding time for prayer and contemplation, or renewing your spiritual, physical, and emotional life, please tell us about it in the comments. Your story can help others see life more clearly.
In these Evil Days, Dream a Little Dream
Rev. Kathy Manis Findley
Lately, I have been trying to figure out a number of mysteries, but I have not figured out one single thing-, not lament, not how to fix my life, not transformation, not even the continuous mess in my closet. I simply have not yet been able to go through a reorganization process. The prospect of reorganizing my life—my soul, my spirit, my heart—plus all the treasures in my closet and armoire is so terribly daunting to me. Marie Kondo comes to mind, but I quickly shoo her away from my mess in the closet.
Lots of folk complain about “these days.” I confess that I do my share of complaining. What is it about “these days” that seems so troubling? I cannot fully give you an answer to that question yet, but I have some ideas about it. The issue at hand reminds me that the Bible often refers to “evil days.” I believe that many people see these days as “evil days,” and that cannot turn out well for anyone!
Jennifer Senior, a journalist with The Atlantic, recently wrote a news article in which she asked a another provocative question: What will happen to the American psyche if Trump is reelected? (Don’t worry, this post is not about Donald Trump!) On this question, maybe we really don’t want to know the answer. Instead of taking her question seriously and considering what might happen to “American psyches” following the November election, some folk would rather complain about the division all around, the evil around us, or other things nobody likes.
When we dare to make an honest evaluation of circumstances that surround us, we dig in our heels and balk. We balk because we don’t want to see the division in our nation or the impasse we have reached on important issues. We balk because, in truth, no one wants to lament. Remember, I’m not talking about divisions among us like liberal or conservative, Democrat or Republican, male or female, immigrant or American citizen, black or white . . . I could go on and on naming divisions among us. We have always co-existed with division, but most often in the past we have acknowledged division and simultaneously practiced kindness, respect, and tolerance. Given the current national environment, we might just be justified in calling these days “evil days.”
If reading the Bible is something you typically do, then you might understand more fully the term “evil day.” My heart tells me that “evil days” are definitely taking a toll on us. Instinct tells me that “the evil day” is not a single day, but refers to the times in our lives when we face overwhelming , troubling circumstances. If you are willing, meditate on the following words for a few moments.
—Ephesians 6:13-17 NRSVUE
Therefore, take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand the evil day and, having prevailed against everything, to stand firm. 16 Stand, therefore, and belt your waist with truth and put on the breastplate of righteousness15 and lace up your sandals in preparation for the gospel of peace. 16 With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one.17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
I want to remind us all about the unrest we hold inside, too close to our heart and spirit. The proximity is important to pay attention to, as well as the flashpoints, past and present, that people have endured. I would guess that there are many flashpoints and memories of times that have held power over you. You probably face off with flashpoints, knowing that they not only create stress in our bodies, but also create bondage. We can become chained to our lives. Until we have exert some control of the present time of division, hate, turmoil, distrust, disrespect, contempt and other forms of bondage, we cannot find peace that changes the world. We certainly cannot figure out how to accept the possibility of transformation.
These evil days may well be causing our hearts to lament. These days may be days full of nightmares—no dreams at all, not even little dreams. You can name your own tragedies—the ones that are making it hard to breathe for you, or the ones that cover the whole troubled world with sadness. When I think of choosing my personal places of lament, those places where I can pour out the most anxiety, I feel the heavy burden of hopelessness. If you feel that too, you are not alone.
Always looking for a scapegoat, we try to discern what is bringing us down. Of course, life often brings us unforeseen personal tragedies that we must deal with. And there is certainly enough shared anxiety to go around. If you read the daily news, you will undoubtedly hear about the fierce war in Ukraine, the inability to create peace in the Middle East, the rising cost of food, the food deserts in our country, refugee children separated from their parents, difficult financial challenges, mass shootings, fractured relationships, long-term estrangement from loved ones, the opioid crisis and addiction, racism, injustice of all kinds, and politics. Evil days!
There are so many more ills we could add to this list, but we know them already, and the news programs are anxious to tell us about broken politics, as well as the way politics creates broken people. So there you have it! Among the many sources of stress we each experience, we continually stress over the dozens of pointless news stories about politics and the behavior of politicians every day. To top it off, Gloria Mark points out that “we are once again facing a news cycle that will shove our attention—as well as our output, our nerves, our sanity—through a Cuisinart.” No matter how skillfully we deny it, our bodies are not designed to handle chronic stress and trauma.
Just about now, you might want to say that politics doesn’t affect us that much, certainly doesn’t cause depression and hopelessness. But consider this viewpoint written by Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, Jennifer Senior:
The American Psychological Association’s annual stress survey, conducted by the Harris Poll, found that 68 percent of Americans reported that the 2020 election was a significant source of strain. Kevin B. Smith, a political-science professor at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, found that about 40 percent of American adults identified politics as “a significant source of stress in their lives,” based on YouGov surveys . . . Even more remarkably, Smith found that about 5 percent reported having had suicidal thoughts because of our politics. Evil days!
And of the most divisive election in decades, psychologists are saying that their research shows that more than two-thirds of U.S. adults (68%) say that the 2020 U.S. presidential election was a significant source of stress in life.
It is not a stretch to say that stress plays havoc on our dreams, even our little dreams. I have to confess that my big dreams disappeared into the “impossible“ file, and were then swallowed up by the churning in my stomach and my psyche. I remember my first year in seminary, working part time jobs and going to class. For a while, I worked in the development office where all the catchy slogans, mottos and themes were born. One year, the staff got together to write a theme for the annual development campaign. I don’t know who came up with our brilliant theme, but we loved it. I really loved it and made it my personal mission.
“We’re Out to Change the World!”
I tried to do just that, and I honestly thought I could, but eventually the scene in my mind of one young woman alone trying to change the world on her own made me shiver. All the lofty goals and the many little dreams, along with a few big dreams, that had my attention were disappearing before me. I despaired at first and then carried long-term grief about it. There would be no big dreams in my heart. I would never see the glory of a big dream come true. Nor would I dream small dreams. People usually don’t dream of whatever is better while they are covered in grief—mourning, lamenting that they lost their dreams in the first place. In “these evil days” we must let go of despair and pray for an extra portion of holy determination!
But people do see the sacred light that sparks dreams. It dawns over them again and again until their dreamless spirit transforms from death, to life, to get their bearings again, and to summon the energ to get up and try
This is my message to you, and to myself: After your time of lament, rejoice! After you have escaped the bondage of evil days, rejoice! After you name your loss, and then put yourself back together, rejoice!
Take heart. Up in the heavens, there is rejoicing for you! Even in the gloomy shadow of dark and evil days, there is rejoicing for you! Even if you are trying to dream even the littlest dream, there is rejoicing for you!
So try a big dream! Change the world a little bit! Your heart longs for it, the world needs it, and the heavens will do what they always do—rejoice!
Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
Psalm 16:11 NIV
let the sea resound, and all that is in it.
May even your smallest dreams change the world!
Epiphany’s GodBurst!
By Rev. Kathy Manis Findley
Please click here to view this blog post in your browser.
Fowler, John. Rising Star, Milky Way, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56313 [retrieved January 6, 2024].
Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Milky_Way_-_28_June_2014.jpg.
Epiphany ~ January 6, 2024
Isaiah 60:1-6
Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms. Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice, because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you, the wealth of the nations shall come to you.
A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the LORD.
When the Holy Child is born into our hearts there is a rain of stars, a rushing of angels, a blaze of candles, this God Burst into our lives.
— Ann Weems
On this particular day, I am finding it difficult to declare that Epiphany is my favorite day in the Liturgical Calendar. But it is my favorite day of celebration in the Church year! The truth is that this day of Epiphany, 2023 reminds me that today is both a day of shining splendor and a day of shameful scourge. After all, this year Epiphany falls on the sixth day of January, the third anniversary of the day the United States Capitol was violated by a mob of insurrectionists. Thousands of attendees, some armed, walked to the Capitol, with hundreds breaching police perimeters as Congress was beginning the electoral vote count. Among the rioters were leaders of the Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers militia groups, who conspired to use violence to interfere with the peaceful transfer of power.
Within 36 hours of the event, five people had died: one was shot by Capitol Police, another died of a drug overdose, and three died of natural causes, including a police officer. Many people were injured, including 174 police officers. Four officers who responded to the attack died by suicide within seven months.
That day was a disgraceful moment in this nation and beyond, as many countries around the globe lost confidence in America. American citizens also reacted strongly and suddenly questioned our nation’s democracy, the sovereignty of free and fair elections, and the participation in “a historic and profound abuse of the judicial process.” We were questioning our ethics, our morals, our human decency, our abhorrence for violence, and sadly, our sudden refusal to discern the vast difference between peaceful protest and seditious mutiny.
Can we finish this unpleasant conversation and change our view to the stars, thousands and thousands of stars in the Milky Way galaxy? They are perhaps a sparkling reminder of other sparkling things that are worth remembering—the birth of America’s democracy, the toil of creating the United States Constitution, the Veteran’s Day commemorations year after year, the moving inaugurations of the line of U.S. presidents, America’s many fragile freedoms, the outstanding individuals we become when we give the best of our hearts and spirits to dreams of peace and justice.
And yet, these are earthly accomplishments and events. We must keep looking up into the heavens, listening for the Prophet’s voice saying, “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you.”
This is the holy proclamation from the Prophet that Epiphany gives us every January. It is the soulful serendipity of the new year. It is a kind of GodBurst that gives us the energy to keep moving closer to dreams of peace and justice.
I need Epiphany this year. Perhaps you do too. There is far too much darkness surrounding us all—war, violence, abuse, division, rancor, injustice, racism, misogyny, xenophobia, gun violence, illness, drug abuse, homelessness, hopelessness—darkness. I think maybe our Epiphany prayer needs to be a prayer of lament for the part, large or small, that we have played to bring the darkness upon us and our world.
But after lament, we can always look up to see the stars. You know the ones, the ones God placed in the galaxies to brighten our darkest nights and lift our darkest spirits. God set these glittering Stars in the sky to always remind us to look for Epiphanies, and find them when we least expect to. Even if we have only one brief, transcendent, shining moment, we can claim as our own the brilliance of the stars that hover above us in the night sky. Our GodBurst! Your sacred path and mine definitely does take us through dark and frightening places sometimes, but look up! That’s the command I keep saying to myself. Look up! “Arise, shine, for your light has come and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you!”So look up into the heavens and see the most brilliant, glimmering stars giving light for your journey.
May God make it so. Amen.
A Prayer of Lament
Radiant Star of Hope, we lament the darkness of our world.
Forgive us the darkness we ourselves create.
Star of our deepest Hope, you grace us with guidance and mystery,
Visit our troubled rest with disturbing dreams,
and our journeys with strange companions.
Grace us with the hospitality to open our hearts and homes
to visitors filled with unfamiliar wisdom, bearing profound and unusual gifts.
Guide us on Epiphany’s path and disturb us with Stars, O God,
that the radiance and Spirit working in the world
might gather together all peoples and nations in one community
to offer you worship and proclaim your everlasting splendor. Amen.
Fowler, John. Milky Way, from Art Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Milky_Way_-_28_June_2014.jpg. John Fowler, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons [retrieved January 6, 2024].
Detours Not Chosen
Have you ever found yourself on a path you did not choose? I am on such a path right now, in my aging years when nostalgia is rampant in me. Since I did not choose any part of this path for myself, I would have to say I have been detoured by some other force. The bottom line is that I have been detoured onto a path that seldom makes me happy.
Empty and desolate is this path, at least much of the time. My path detoured after a sudden diagnosis of end stage renal failure, followed by a year (2014) of being in and out of the hospital, daily dialysis, moving to another state far from my son and grandchildren, a kidney transplant, and the difficult change it brought to my existence. I can say unequivocally that I don’t like the forced detour and I don’t like this path.
Most of us begin our adult lives with plans and dreams. We have arranged our first-world lives so that we will have many choices for a bright future. When we age, though, our choices become limited, and sometimes the choices for our lives are made by someone else. So I find myself in the season of life when my path is narrowed and my choices are limited. This is a stifling place to be, leaving me with at least three emotional responses:
1) I am in a constant state of melancholy and cannot seem to pull myself out of it.
2) I live with a deep hurt in the pit of my stomach, like when you miss someone so much.
3) I feel a fear I have never felt before, that the next change I did not choose will be even worse than the changes before it.
Although I can readily list everything that is not good about this path, I have never been a complainer and certainly not one who refuses to hear God’s whispers to me. I can’t explain where these whispers come from or how it is that I hear them, but I have always chosen to believe that it is God who whispers in my ear. So after a sudden and frightening diagnosis, I began to hear God’s whispers—gently, tenderly, patiently, and full of compassion. Then I heard an unusual kind of whisper, one that was emphatic and a little more forceful than the usual whispers . . .
“Enough! Enough of your frenzied life. Enough of working day and night. Enough of caring for others and ignoring yourself. Enough of not listening to the cries of your soul. Enough of constantly writing grants to fund your ministry. Enough of serving on dozens of committees all at once. Enough of putting away your creativity to direct corporate shenanigans. Enough of not drawing near to me. Enough!”
Almost immediately after that striking whisper, I ran headlong into the illness that stopped me in my tracks! The detour was severe and the path was definitely not a sacred path. I asked myself this question one late night of melancholy while resting in my hospital room: What will I do now, what will I be able to do now except pray, meditate, listen, breathe, journal, dream, sit in silence, and pray some more?
I did just that when I was well enough. And from months of recuperation and meditation, my creativity was restored. I started painting watercolors, writing in this blog, listening to music, singing hymns, creating beautiful things, writing two books, playing piano, growing plants and arranging flowers, and so many other creative things. During those days, when I needed to comfort myself, my mind pulled up many passages of scripture that urged me towards a more contemplative life.
Be still, and know that I am God. Come close to God, and God will come close to you. I have calmed and quieted myself. I rise early, before the sun is up; I cry out for help and put my hope in your words. My eyes are awake before the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promise. Above all things, guard your heart, for from it flow the wellsprings of life.
Doing all those creative and spiritual things helped my soul, of course, but no matter how I tried, nothing could completely take away my melancholy. It is still in me. Although I did pull myself out of the darkness I felt on the abysmal path I did not choose, the melancholy remained with me. As it does for any of us, at times. Life happens. Forced detours happen. Bad things happen to good people. None of these happen on our schedule, nor does our sacred path always lead us where we want to go.
Isn’t that just life? Isn’t that life for anyone, no matter how devout?
It helps to remember that our path is a sacred path, no matter how everything seems. We walk it “by faith and not by sight.” I leave you with a verse from the twenty-third Psalm.
Even when I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
May all your paths be sacred and your detours chosen by you.
~ Rev. Kathy
For your meditation time today, I share with you this beautiful song offered by John Michael Talbot.
Afghanistan: Grace and Mercy
Photo: Jawad Jalail
Part One
A Story of Grace and Mercy
The following story printed in the Daily Beast tells how the villagers of a small Afghan village rescued and saved the life of a gravely wounded U.S. Navy Seal. Their motivation? What motivated them was their culture of kindness and their respect of the ‘Pashtunwali Code’, which admonishes that hospitality, asylum, mercy and shelter must be provided for all who require it, friend or enemy.
Nearly eight-and-a-half years after Mohammad Gulab and his fellow villagers harbored and saved the life of a gravely wounded U.S. Navy SEAL, they say they are still proud of their courageous action and would do it again in spite of the disappointments and troubles that have followed.
In the face of point-blank Taliban threats to overrun the small village of Sabray in remote Kunar Province, along the porous and mountainous frontier with Pakistan, the villagers bravely protected, gave first aid to, fed, and clothed Marcus Luttrell, the wounded Special Warfare Operator, the only survivor of a four-man SEAL patrol. A village elder even secretly carried a note hidden inside his clothing—written by Luttrell and indicating the exact spot where he could be rescued—through Taliban lines at great personal danger. “I have no regrets for what my family, my fellow villagers and I have done,” Gulab tells the Daily Beast. “We knew what the Taliban’s reaction would be from the day we carried him in our door.”
Gulab and the other villagers insist that they saved Luttrell out of obedience to the ages-old ethnic-Pashtun tradition known as Pashtunwali. That ancient code obliges Pashtuns to help and protect anyone in need, friend or enemy. “We did not rescue Marcus for money or privileges,” Gulab says. “By rescuing and keeping him safe for five nights in our home we were only doing our cultural obligation.”
And Jesus told us,
“You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself.”
Part Two
Advocating for the Women of Afghanistan
The Taliban have been in charge of Kabul for 48 hours. Women have already disappeared from the streets.
Photo: AP News
https://apnews.com/article/religion-taliban-7ab054c063e4ea1c14be9e4811f42982
As an advocate for women for many decades, I must share today the terrible plight of Afghan women as a result of the Taliban takeover of Afghanistan.
In only 10 days, Taliban militants captured dozens of provincial capitals left vulnerable by the withdrawal of US and allied troops.
In only 10 days, the freedom of Afghan women was taken back 20 years.
In only 10 days . . .
The speed of the militants’ advance caught the people of Afghanistan off guard, especially Afghan women. Some women said they had no time to buy a burqa to comply with Taliban rules that women should be covered up and accompanied by a male relative when they leave the house.
To Afghanistan’s women, the flowing cloth represents the sudden and devastating loss of rights gained over 20 years — the right to work, study, move and even live in peace — that they fear will never be regained.
Burqas hang in a market in Kabul on July 31. The price has surged tenfold as women rush to cover themselves to avoid attracting the militants’ attention.
Over the last 10 days, a succession of Taliban victories over dozens of provincial capitals took Afghan women closer to a past they desperately wanted to leave behind.
When the Taliban last ruled Afghanistan between 1996 and 2001, they closed girls’ schools and banned women from working. After the US invaded in 2001, restrictions on women eased, and even as the war raged, a local commitment to improving women’s rights, supported by international groups and donors, led to the creation of new legal protections. But gains for women were partial and fragile. In 2009, the Elimination of Violence Against Women law criminalized rape, battery and forced marriage and made it illegal to stop women or girls from working or studying.
Afghan women stand to lose 20 years of gains as the Taliban seize control.
According to an article by Mitchell Hartman published today, the situation is fluid and chaotic in Afghanistan, as the Taliban continue consolidating power over the country and the capital, Kabul. Afghans with connections to the U.S. Embassy or military over the past 20 years are still hoping to get out of the country. But many who stand to lose rights and jobs and possibly their freedom under a new Taliban regime are hunkering down, hiding, covering their tracks.
Especially women, and when it comes to women’s freedom to participate in society and the economy, people who’ve been observing the Taliban aren’t optimistic. “The Taliban are no friends of girls and women. And for many years they really had control over the country, girls education and women’s education was forbidden,” said Rebecca Winthrop, who co-directs the Center for Universal Education at the Brookings Institution. Winthrop helped get Afghan girls into new government schools after the Taliban fell in 2001.
She said the U.S. has invested more than $700 million in girls’ and women’s education, and attendance has increased. So has Afghan women’s participation in the labor force — up from 15% to nearly 22%.
But where the Taliban have taken control in recent years, Winthrop said, “we were seeing girls not being able to go past seventh grade – which is when they hit puberty; bombing girls schools; targeting female teachers.” In the big cities, many women have gone to university and entered business, government, academia and the media. But now “they’re literally finding safe houses where they can hide,” said Elisa Lees Munoz, who directs the International Women’s Media Foundation.
You and I may feel helpless, unable to find ways to ease the fear and desperation of women a world away. We cannot know their world, and we definitely cannot fix it. We are at a loss when we consider options that could help. And yet, the words of Jesus remain, imprinted upon our hearts . . . “You shall love your neighbor as you love yourself.” And we know that one important thing we can do is to pray for the well-being of every Afghan woman and girl. At least we can pray, and pray with a fervency that holds the power to change hearts and minds. We can pray even without words because the Spirit intercedes for us.
So as we pray, I want to share with you this moving prayer for Afghanistan written by my friend who always prays prayers from her beautiful and compassionate heart. It was published today on her blog, “Gifts in Open Hands.”
God of many names, the Generous,
the All-Merciful, the Source of Peace,
we pray in thanks for Afghanistan
land of pomegranates and grapes,
birthplace of Rumi,
and ‘I am the beggar of the world,’
landays of contemporary Afghan women.
We celebrate people –
Tajik and Hazaras, Uzbek and Pashtun.
We hear tabla, sitar, santur, tabur, flute,
and watch the attan danced.
We gaze upon art ancient and new –
miniatures and the weaves of rugs,
like no other in the world.
All earth opens its hands
and receives the gifts of Afghans,
and all the people pray,
each in their own many names and words
for safety of Afghans in these days –
seeking evacuation in the airport
moving quickly on the street,
hiding in homes,
wondering about schools.
For those who evacuate
and for those who wait for what is next,
for those who are foreign nationals,
and those bone-deep with history in the hills,
for faithful journalists still reporting,
and medical facilities desperate
for blocked supplies,
for Sikh and Hindu communities
and their holy places,
for the welcome of Australia,
and families across the ocean and near at hand
grieving loved ones lost,
life, body, mind in the long war.
for the afghan elder who has seen much
and the child born today
who will grow up to give a new gift,
we pray, O Compassionate, O Preserver. amen
— Maren C. Tirabassi
*Please take time to follow this link to a poignant, timely and very real story about the fears of Afghan women published by “Vanity Fair.”
Prayer for Peace in our Schools
Sometimes prayer is literally all we have. I share with you this poignant and moving prayer from my friend, Maren. I call her the pray-er of prayers.
God, hen, gatherer of chicks,
Savior, weeper over all places
that have no peace,
Spirit, whom to receive
is to feel the breath of wind
in a breeze across a playground,
we pray this morning
for Rigby, Idaho,
where a sixth grader started shooting
in the school hallway …
for two students and an adult injured,
and for all the fear,
and we pray this morning
for Columbia, South Carolina,
where a school bus hijacker threatened
driver and eighteen children
with a rifle,
and for all the fear.
Holy One, we pray for everyone
who has power
to take the guns away –
would that they know,
maybe their hearts tipped over
by this day
the things that make for peace.
amen.
Posted on May 7, 2021 by Maren
Those Who Dream: An Advent Journey
Before we begin Advent’s journey on November 29th, I think we need start a few days early to create some peace for our souls — enough peace to open ourselves to Advent’s life-giving message. For you see, the Advent journey always has a particular and unique message for each of us. The message weaves through our spirit as Advent days move on, gently sparking tiny lights is us that open us up to beginning again, to dreaming again. Advent nurtures and caresses us until we can dream new dreams.
Since we saw Advent past, we have languished in the chaos of 2020. Held in bondage by a terrible pandemic, lamenting racial unrest and the violence that caused it, watching political rancor and division. This was the year of “I can’t breathe” and also the year when we found that we could not breathe. Nor could we dream, because the future was unknowable — not at all conducive to dreaming.
And yet, there remains this good word — Psalm 126:1:
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
What does it look like to live as those who dream? The prophets, the psalmists, Mary, Elizabeth, Joseph, Simeon, Anna, the shepherds and the Magi—they were all dreamers. They received, discovered, and responded to God’s dreams for the world. In Advent’s journey, we travel step by step into the mystery and awe of God’s dreams and we pray that they will shape our reality.
Advent is for the dreamers in all of us — those who dream of a deeper connection with God and those who dream of a better world. Advent is for those who dream of comfort and also for those who have given up on their dreams. Advent is for those whose dreams have been crushed and for those who wisely teach us that dreams take soul time.
In this approaching Advent, perhaps we will dream alongside prophets and angels, Mary and the Magi. Perhaps we will seek and know God’s dreams for our world.
Will you pray with me?
In this Advent of expectation, God,
draw us nearer to grace,
that our songs of worship
might echo in the hills and valleys of this journey
and also through our lives.
In this Advent of expectation,
grant us a sense of peace and silence and steady calm,
that the hope within our souls
might be the dreams we dream,
the songs we sing, and the melody of our lives.
In this Advent of expectation,
grant us a vision of a shimmering star in the night sky,
that the path we follow
might lead us from a stable
to a glimpse of eternity. Amen.
Those Who Dream Theme Song—PREVIEW VERSION from A Sanctified Art on Vimeo.
“If my people . . .”
I watched the news last night before bed. Not such a good idea! Halfway into the broadcast, I felt a pervasive sense of despair and became very nauseous. I’m feeling it again as I’m writing this. It was the very real and very current events that were so upsetting: hurricanes bringing destruction in Louisiana; California wildfires threatening yet again; protests after the tragic and unwarranted shooting of Jacob Blake; 17-year old Kyle Rittenhouse, who took to the streets of Kenosha, Wisconsin during protests, using a military-style rifle to kill two people; a president who is intent on meeting street protests with military violence; a president who gathers a crowd of supporters, not socially distanced and most not wearing masks; and the coronavirus hovering over it all to make situations even more devastating than they already are.
I turned off my bedside lamp and, in the darkness, pondered the news I had just seen. I could not sleep with the sorry, worry, desperation and helplessness I felt. There was not one thing I could do to change my world. My world seemed out of my control, engulfed in all of the events of our time. I wondered . . . how will we live with natural disasters, protests in the streets, killing, violence, military style weapons, police out of control, political rancor, a deadly pandemic and a seeming disregard for human life? How will I live with it? What can I do to change it?
In these times, we see before our eyes people getting very sick, people dying alone in nursing homes and hospitals because of COVID restrictions, people isolated and lonely for months, people divided by political polarization, people being killed by police, people protesting for racial justice, people pushing back hard, enshrined in their white supremacy, people losing their homes, people fighting out-of-control wildfires, people losing their jobs, people tired from working with so many hospital patients, people afraid to go back to school, people feeling angry and frustrated, people feeling complete despair. Most of all, people are hoping beyond hope for better days ahead.
My mind thought of nothing of any consequence I could personally do to reverse all of this destruction and despair. My heart memory, though, remembered some things God instructed us to do long ago. God addressed instruction to, “my people who are called by my name.”
“I am called by God’s name,” I thought. “I know exactly what to do!” Of course, I could honor God by standing up for justice — engaging in political activism, contacting government officials to demand change or participating in peaceful protests. I could honor God’s creation by doing more to care for the earth. I could honor God by loving my neighbor and caring for those who have suffered loss.
People of faith have God’s marching orders that dispatch those called by God’s name to practice all manner of good works. And this we must do. But the critical admonition from God that my heart recalled last night is found in Second Chronicles 7:14. If you are called by God’s name, you will likely know these words well.
If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land. (NRSV)
But wait, Second Chronicles 7:14 doesn’t apply to us. It was for Israel. Our Biblical interpretations must have a solid contextual underpinning. Right?
Of course, many Scriptures taken out of context have done great damage. The context of Second Chronicles is that when God brings judgment on God’s own people, Israel, as a result of their sins, that God would also heal their land. And God would re-establish their blessings when they would pray and “turn from their wicked ways.”
We may look around at all the destruction around us and say, “My sin did not cause any of this.” I don’t have military weapons. I didn’t shoot anyone. I don’t set wildfires, I always wear my mask in public. I certainly cannot stop the ominous storm surge of a hurricane.
True enough! Most of us didn’t sin by doing any of these things. Yet, we should remember two things: 1) While we did not commit those particular sins, we do not fully know the harm inflicted by other sins we may have committed; and 2) We cannot begin to know the transformative power of our sincere, repentant, intercessory prayer.
Instead of entertaining such deep and helpless despair, instead of feeling physically nauseous with worry, I think I will follow the admonition of the Chronicler who gave me God’s call to pray. Of course, the admonition in its historical context truly was for Israel, but if we intend to use the Holy Scripture to guide our lives, we cannot ignore a passage that begins with “If my people.”
Perhaps my prayers and yours will bring transformation, in our spirits and in our world.
May God make it so. Amen.
A Prayer for the Living of These Days
God of the Sparrow 🌱 By Kathy Manis Findley 
