We come gingerly to prayer on this Good Friday
holding the pieces of our broken world.
So much is ruined and spoiled,
so much hatred and anger,
so many acts of violence.
Our eyes turn to the cross
as evidence of our sinfulness,
we crucified even the one who loved us most and best.
There is no talk today of who is greatest,
no talk of triumph and victory.
Instead we stand quietly here at the foot of the cross,
Thank you God for your triumphal entry into our world each and every day.
The slow motion explosion of buds on the trees proclaim “Hosanna!”
Rushing water, falling from heaven, gurgling to the sea, proclaims “Hosanna!”
The fragrance of spring in the morning air proclaims, “Hosanna!”
And the beauty of a baby’s fingers, the softness of their cheek proclaims your praise!
We long to join this chorus, giving you thanks and praise for who you are,
for all you have created, all you are creating.
Thank you for sending Jesus, who showed us your love for all creation,
your love for us….
God, we stand at the door of this New Year,
thankful for the year behind us,
a gift through which we’ve lived and moved.
At this timely threshold,
with our feet poised to walk into ____,
we turn to you with our prayer of hope.
Hope springs eternal when we walk with you.
Help us walk this year with you.
We hope that this will be a year filled
with joy, with love, with laughter,
a year filled with plenty and abundance,
with purpose and fulfillment.
But if the year brings hard times and hurt,
pain and sorrow, tears and trials,
we know that your care and comfort
This Christmas, you come as a Saviour to the lost.
We gather here, we who have lost heart,
lost hope, lost patience, lost time.
We have lost innocence, we are losing the race,
we feel like lost souls.
This Christmas, we want to be finding you–
finding you in the silence of the gray morning
and in the sweet smile of a child;
finding you in the dark starry sky
and in the warm handshake of a friend;
finding you in the familiar Christmas narrative
and in the story of a stranger;
finding you in our own hearts
and in the face of our enemies.
God of grace, thank you for this season of waiting.
Thank you for the beauty of the sleeping earth
waiting for spring’s new life.
Thank you for the joy of children
waiting for the excitement of gift giving.
Thank you for the gift of familiar carols,
whose joyful music touches waiting hearts.
Thank you for far-flung family and friends
that we can’t wait to see this season.
Thank you for the gift of Jesus Christ;
we have been waiting for a Saviour….
God of gardens,
you are the great Cultivator,
growing faith for the ages.
You aren’t picky about the size of the harvest.
You rejoice in the vast prairie field,
one crop from horizon to horizon,
just as you rejoice in the tiny plant
breaking through the inner city cement crack.
You carefully tend the tenderest of plants,
taking deep delight in burgeoning beauty.
Under the light of your gaze,
faith breaks out in different colours
Thank you for the music all around us.
Each morning we hear it from the moment we open our ears;
the low notes of wind around the eaves,
the whoosh of water as it comes from the tap,
the glug glug as it drains,
the throaty whistle of the boiling kettle,
the metallic tap of the spoon against the cup,
the jazz percussion of our feet on the steps.
The sounds of our day,
so familiar we hardly pay attention.
Thank you for the ability to hear….
Thank you God for the sound of geese high in the morning sky
being pulled northward by the call of spring.
Thank you for the way you are pulling life out of the ground.
You call and all life answers, up from the brown earth,
up through last year’s dead leftovers; new life greening all around us.
Thank you that you call us in the same way, pulling us towards life.
As sure as plants are pulled towards the sun, we yearn for you.
Forgive us for times we have leaned in other ways,
preferring to stay buried, preferring to do nothing,
preferring to lean towards evil thoughts and actions.
Your love calls us, yearns for us,
rejoices every time our thoughts lean towards you,
Help us to learn from the trees to be your people.
Like the strong oak with its deep roots,
establish us in your word, in community, in prayer.
Like the graceful willow bending in the wind,
strengthen us to withstand tumults and trials.
Like the tall jack pine, true and straight,
make us pure and single-minded, always looking to you.
Like the rustling poplar, shining and shimmering,
give us joy in the winds of life….
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
Get regular resource updates and special announcements!
