Editorial Note: Pastor Heather Connor is our new Minister of Formation and Outreach and will be joining us in Geneva in June. Click here to see our welcome email from December 2024.
*Words in italics are adapted from a prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed / A Sanctified Art LLC, santifiedart.org
Grief has a way of stopping time. Sometimes there are no words to ease the pain, no explanations that can make sense of injustices. I feel the weight of this each time I open social media or read the latest news, but nothing compares to how real it all became the day my best friend called to share that her brother had been killed… while in prison. However, what I learned as I journeyed alongside her was how people’s mere presence shifted the helplessness that was felt. Embodied care…the friends who sat in silence, the family who traveled great distances, those who brought meals, those who offered legal counsel…couldn’t take away the grief or anger, but they stood as reminders that she was not alone.
Holy God, Your invitation is simple. You lean in close. You say our name. With joy in your voice, you invite us to follow. But the noise of this world is distracting, and we are afraid, so we get stuck somewhere in between grief and despair.
Life can often feel like a storm of responsibility, worry, and distraction. Our phones, watches, and tablets bombard us with urgent headlines, continual social media notifications… on top of the ever-present press of personal and family obligations. Amid all the noise, God is speaking, leaning in close, telling us we are beloved, sharing words of belonging. Can we hear God’s voice above the noise? Are we intentionally seeking it? God’s presence and the presence of people do not magically erase the pain or make injustices immediately go away, but it can give the courage to take the next step, to keep moving in the knowledge that we are not alone.
Today, many of us feel immobilized by overwhelm and find it difficult to discern Your voice in the midst of it all. God, help us carry the load of those things that weigh us down, that keep us divided, angry, tired, and distracted. Help us lay those things before you now—
The weight of this world is heavy. The artist, Pink, describes it well: “Oh God, it hurts to be human.” Thankfully, Jesus shared in this experience…and He lived a life of embodied care. Because Jesus experienced humanity, he doesn’t dismiss it but instead chooses to enter it, walking alongside us, by the Spirit. God continually invites us to speak aloud what burdens and overwhelms us. Naming them helps break their power over us and can give us the courage to lean into God’s healing presence, allowing us to then act as that presence for another.
God, help us to name the complexity of the world around us with the hope that we can find compassion and nuance in our journey toward becoming your beloved community. God, may we find you in every messy middle. May we know that the world is bigger than two sides. May we trust that we are made in your image, and therefore, contain multitudes.
In Galatians, we are reminded that we are to carry one another’s burdens to fulfill the law of Christ. What does it mean to carry someone’s burden in a world that pushes us toward only looking out for ourselves? It means standing with people, entering the imperfectness of their lives, and being present…sometimes in silence, sometimes in solidarity, and sometimes as an advocate.
My best friend cannot bring her brother back, but she has been stepping into the messy middle for other inmates. Utilizing her presence to fight for their humanity to be seen…not as a binary of good or bad, but as whole people with stories, needs, and desires for the future. Just this act of advocacy has helped my friend and her family heal as they, in turn, are present for others in their pain.
May we move through this world with an open heart, a curious mind, and with the confidence that we do not go alone.
When my friend’s brother was murdered, in the midst of their grief, presence made a difference. In the months following his death, the family turned their grief into action. Every letter sent, every meeting attended, every moment spent listening to the stories of those still incarcerated was an act of defiance against despair…a reminder that no one is alone. It was a declaration that presence matters. That showing up matters. That love, when embodied, has the power to resist injustice.
So, sit with someone in their grief. Stand with someone in their fight. And choose presence in the midst of the noise.
Amen.
