To Pause

Everlasting God, 

As those drawn together by your mighty works in our lives, having already sung, proclaimed, and welcomed one another, our hearts and minds already feel the beauty of being reoriented by you. You have given us this place to become rooted in you, Jesus. To pause amid the hurry and chaos, to be found again in our loneliness, and to know you and be known by you. 

In this Lenten season, we are welcomed by you into deeper reflection, opening our lives to your calling. We are invited to repentance, a turning from and turning towards You, Jesus. And this morning, your invitation is even more particular — as we anticipate sharing in communion together. 
You said over two millennia ago to take up these sacred rhythms of remembrance in tangible, physical ways. But we need your help to do so because we are easily distracted, overwhelmed, and forgetful. (As if saying that were a surprise to you.)

We ask that you continue to prepare our hearts as we look to your life, our shining light in the darkness. We confess the ways in which we continue to choose darkness rather than fixing our eyes upon you, as you shepherd us in your perfection. We approach your throne of grace boldly, as you teach us to, anticipating endless mercy and the promised abounding grace. We see you, even if it is like squinting through fog, as we draw near; you become clearer and clearer. We believe you are who you say you are — our Savior, our Lord, full of glory, perfectly righteous, and reigning forever. 

We proclaim, humbly, that there is no better place to be than in your tender embrace. We offer ourselves, in humble submission, as you did, Jesus, entrusting our past, present, and eternal future to you. As we hear your word this morning, Holy Spirit, fan the flames of our faith. As we chew upon the bread and drink the juice together, help us feel your tangible, wonderful presence. For your promise to us is that where two or more are gathered, you are there. So help us slow down and be captivated by your loving presence once again. 

We enter into that slowness even now, as we join our hearts in silent communal prayer.

Amen.