On the darkness of the road
a couple walks, bone-weary,
seeking a sanctuary
where new life can be born.
In the darkness of the womb
a baby stirs and turns,
unaware of a destiny
and a coming birth day.
In the darkness of the night,
Herod looks out at his kingdom
The news that the Word is made flesh
comes to us on the pages of our holy book.
Tens of thousands of Bibles opened around the world this night
and the good news read out in basilicas and barrios,
in chapels, churches and television broadcast studios.
In every language of the world the good news rings out,
“And it came to pass in those days.”
Thank you God for the gift of scripture,
telling us of those first witnesses of your coming.
Mary, heavy with child, journeying to Bethlehem.
Joseph, anxious with worry, hurrying to arrive in time….
God our Creator, Ancient of Days,
even as we give thanks for Jesus’ birth,
you behold it happening.
You are beyond time.
You are always sending an angel to Mary,
to Joseph, to the shepherds,
you are always coming again to us,
with good news of great joy
which shall be to all people.
Hear our prayer of thanks
for all you have done, are doing, will do
to save us from our sins.
Thank you for hope that shines out
in the eyes of every newborn child,
God did you know when you gave us creativity
that we would use it to create a tool to kill each other
with the tiniest movement of our finger?
Around our world, bullets are sown into gun chambers
and we reap destruction, life after life mowed down in blood.
Hear our prayer for all who will hold a gun today:
the soldier on the battlefield,
the lone gunman planning a massacre,
the gang member hunting a rival,
the raging husband threatening a family,
the depressed person wanting to end it all,
These are the things that I say out loud.
There is beauty in this season of celebration:
children waiting for presents,
hospitality being prepared,
music floating, lights sparkling,
and even strangers smiling at each other.
Waiting is something I am doing.
I am waiting for peace on earth,
I am waiting for an end to hostilities,
I am waiting for healing and hope.
If you are there, God, I would ask why,
and lay out all the suffering I’ve seen under the sun,
and demand an accounting.
Help us, God! We need your help!
Send rain now! Hold back the wind!
We see people fleeing wildfires;
they grab each other and go, leaving everything,
not knowing if they will ever see their homes again.
The smell of smoke. Ash falling.
The glow of flames devouring the landscape,
every living creature running for dear life.
We are terrified by this fiery power.
Send rain now! Hold back the wind!
Spare our communities, spare our land.
Protect firefighters and emergency workers and police
On this most beautiful of mornings
we come with thankfulness for life and breath.
Thankful for the brilliant blue of the winter sky,
for the bracing pinch of the cold wind on our cheeks,
for the lacy frost decorating our windows,
for the comfort of coffee and tea and hot chocolate,
for the taste of cinnamon and gingerbread.
Open our eyes to the beauty all around us.
Thank you for another season of advent
where we light a candle of hope
which we need so much in these dark times.
Eternal God,
thank you for the things that do not end:
the wind swirling around the globe,
the sea rocking back and forth in its seabed,
the sun rising and setting as we spin through space.
Thank you for all the transient things we know;
the frost on the window,
the clouds in their majestic sailing beauty,
the grass that flourishes for a season and withers,
our own breath.
All this from your hands.
On this Eternity Sunday we come with grieving hearts,
Lord, you know we give thanks for fish often enough,
the ones on plates on our table, served up hot and tasty.
Today we say a prayer for the fish we will never see,
the ones who live in the streams by our home,
the ones who swim up rivers to great lakes,
and the fish in the wide and salty ocean.
Swimming in the dim light they inhabit a wilderness
of water, theirs from the beginning of time.
We see only the edges, the surfaces.
Hear our prayer for the mighty lake sturgeon,
and for the carp, the bass, the silver chub.
We pray for the salmon we will never eat,
I am a Mennonite pastor currently teaching theology at Conrad Grebel University College in Waterloo, Ontario. I’ve served congregations in Ontario and most recently, Alberta.
I love to write and to lead worship! If you are finding my writing helpful, I would love to hear from you! Feel free to use or adapt the material here, it is all written by me. If printing material, please credit “Copyright Carol Penner www.leadinginworship.com” (and say whether you modified it). If publishing, please contact me for permission. Contact me at carol@leadinginworship.com
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