Carol Penner

You gave us a holy book,
but we confess that sometimes
we use it in unholy ways. 

Sometimes it sits on our shelf, gathering dust.
We fail to wonder at it,
the miracle of stories about you,
preserved and collected.
We forget the sacrifice that was made
to write it, copy it, translate it, protect it.
We feel guilt about not reading,
but miss the invitation to communion
it offers every day.

Sometimes the opposite happens.
We become devoted to the book itself,
knowing it backwards and forwards,
able to quote chapter and verse.
The book holds a place in our heart,
where only God should be. 
We can wield it like a weapon,
wounding and pushing people away,
instead of seeing how it is a bridge
which can help us reach our neighbour.

Open us to the Spirit’s movement
in the words of this book.
Help us to hear your call to repentance,
and your eternal hope for renewal.
Fill us with longing to explore scripture.
Grant us delight in our encounters
and patience with what puzzles us.

We read this book as people together,
and as per usual, we won’t agree.
In the midst of conflict,
bless our bible-reading community.
Help us listen to the diversity of your people,
and not privilege the interpretations
of the loudest voices, or the most powerful.
Your Spirit gives insight
to even the lowest and the least.

Finally, may the words of our mouths
and the meditations of our hearts
and the actions of our lives
reflect the wisdom of this holy book,
which you have gifted to us all.

Today we confess that we fall short
in our most intimate relationships.
Forgive us for sour faces and cold shoulders,
for clenched fists and icy stares. 
Forgive us for hurtful words
and for silences that wound.
Forgive us for the way we remember
every hurt done to us,
while the hurts we do to others
are quickly minimized,
explained away or forgotten.
You call us to carry a cross,