A Prayer for Our Times

God, who breathed into firstborn soil the breath of life—

Honored to write and breathe a bilingual prayer in partnership with my Spirit-sister, Reverend Maria Teresa Jones.

God who breathed into firstborn soil the breath of life,
your Spirit exhales
and fragrances us–
our communities,
our wounds,
our hiding places,
our bodies and souls
–with the honeyed aromas
of your mercy, justice, and grace.

Breathe on us now, O God.

Season us–
our footsteps
our words
our very beings
–so that in our living and working and worshiping,
we perfume your world with
your radical scent of justice-making,
your healing balm of kindness,
your life-restoring tincture of mercy.

Strengthen us for the journey ahead
so that we might be en-couraged–
have hearts expansive enough
and spirits wise enough
to breathe your radical love
into those too-much-with-us wounds
that expose and weaken
the world’s weary bones.

God who breathed into firstborn soil the breath of life–
here and there,
now and then,
against all odds,
may we encounter
in each other
your peace–
beyond all human understanding

Kiss us, O God, with that peace
and send us out
to kiss others–

In the name of Christ,
by the power of your Spirit.


Dios que respiro a su suelo primogénito el aliento de vida,
Tu aliento nos efranga
nuestras comunidades,
nuestras heridas,
nuestros escondites,
nuestros cuerpos y almas
–con el aroma de miel
de tu misericordia, justicia y gracia.

Respira sobre nosotros ahora, oh Dios.

nuestros pasos
nuestras palabras
nuestros propios seres
–para que en nuestro vivir, trabajo y adoración,
perfumemos tu mundo con
tu aroma radical de justicia,
tu bálsamo de sanamiento y bondad,
y tu tinta de misericordia que restaura la vida.

Fortalecenos para el sendero en adelante
A ser animados–
Y tener corazones suficientemente expansivos y espíritus suficientemente sabios para respirar tu amor radical
dentro de las heridas presente-con-nosotros que exponen y debilitan
los huesos cansados del mundo.

Dios que respiró en su suelo primogénito el aliento de vida–
aquí y allá,
ahora y de entonces
contra todo reto
que encontremos entre cada uno
tu paz–
sostenimiento de la vida
más allá de todo entendimiento humano

Bésanos oh Dios, con esa paz
y envianos hacia adelante
a besar a otros.

En el nombre de Cristo,
Y por el poder de tu Espíritu.


Do Not Our Hearts Burn Within Us?

I hope I do not turn my face away from the flames.

A White Christian’s prayer

Pentecost fires are burning this week.

I hope the fires burn away my apathy as a white Christian in a racist society. I hope my malaise burns away too. I hope I do not turn my face away from the flames.

Pentecost fires remind me of other biblical fires.

  • “Did not our hearts burn within us?” the disciples on the road to Emmaus asked. They thought they were traveling with a stranger. The stranger was Jesus. Crucified. Resurrected. Walking the way with them.
  • A bush burns but does not burn up. God calls to Moses in the flames. Moses says “yes.” But he doesn’t want to.
  • The Israelites follow a flaming pillar through the wilderness. It is night. They are afraid. God’s fire shows the way.
  • A fire warms Peter’s hands. He breathes words of denial into the night air. They float away. Hot embers on the wind.
  • Jesus builds a fire and cooks breakfast on the beach. His followers taste resurrection in the ash-smoked fish. 

In Scripture, in the days and months after Pentecost, the church wrestled with its identity. Who are we? Who are we to become? What is our purpose?

What about us today? Who are we? Who are we to become? Can we imagine and ignite a new thing? A more hopeful way? A way of justice?

I pray we can.

But before that can happen, we must confess and lament. We haven’t confessed our complicity in racism. Not really. And we haven’t lamented the deaths of black and brown people in our communities. Not really.

We need radical lament.

Radical is from the Latin radix and means root or base. We need to lament the root cause of violence against our sisters and brothers—the sin of white racism.

We need radical lament. And we must lament radically—with our whole bodies. God is calling to us through Pentecost flames to take action, to stand against racism, to stand for justice.

So, we confess. We lament. We pray.


God of Wind and Fire,

Make our hearts burn within us–

We feel the heat of so many flames, O God.

Fires of revealing.
Fires of guiding.
Fires of denying.
Fires of resurrecting.

Make our hearts burn within us–

Fires of confessing.
Fires of lamenting.
Fires of acting.

And if we weep, O God?

May we weep tears of cleansing,
not tears of dousing, dampening, diminishing
fires that rage against injustice.

Make our hearts burn within us—

So many winds blow around us, O God.

Winds wailing with pain.
Winds howling with agony.
Winds stirring up the dust of our humanity.

            Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Stir us up, Holy Wind.
Stir up Wisdom.
Stir up Mercy.

Make our hearts burn within us–

No more crushed windpipes, O God.
Let justice breathe.
Blow your radical love into us.
Through us.
All around us.

God of Wind and Fire,

Heal us.
Resurrect us.
Put our feet on the road to justice.

Make our hearts burn within us–