Photo by Erinn Fahey
By Nancy Sehested
Holy Light,
We stand somewhere in the shadows, in-between the battlefield of our struggles and the sanctuary of our souls.
Shed a little light on our way. Keep your lighted sanctuary within us portable, able to see clearly, to walk courageously, to withstand the forces that corrupt the truth of our belonging to your one world-wide family. Continue reading
By Katerina Friesen
Praising/ Adoring
We are Your field, O Lord,
and we praise You as Your planting, the work of Your hands!
We praise You for Your watchful eye,
for the way You bend over us and smile
as we grow from tender stems to ripe harvest,
for giving us rain and sun in due season.
We praise You because You never give up on us,
but coax new life from barren ground again and again.
We are Your field, O Lord,
and we praise You as Your planting, the work of Your hands!
Affirming Faith
Voices 1: We will not bow down to serve other gods:
the gods of war, the gods of greed, the gods who destroy the Earth.
Voices 2: We will not bow down to the gods of racism,
to gods who make us feel either inferior or superior,
to gods who do not love us, but demand our devotion.
All: We choose life!
Voices 1: We choose to serve the God of Abraham, and Isaac,
the God of Sarah and Rebecca, of Mary and of Jesus,
Voices 2: We choose to serve the God of our ancestors in faith,
of Paul and Lydia, of Menno Simons and Margaretha Sattler,
of Vincent and Rosemarie Harding.
All: We choose life! We will hold fast to the Lord, the God of life.
Sending
God has set before us today life and death. Let us continue
to walk in God’s way, assured that our ancestors walk before us,
that Christ walks with us, and that the Spirit binds us together
and helps us to choose life.
Photo by Meg Marshall
By Micah Bucey
You are trying to kill our joy,
But you have no idea
How strong disaster makes us.
Joy is permanent, not temporary or erasable,
As it seems civil rights are.
Joy is sturdy, not weak and shifty,
As it seems our leaders are.
Joy is deep, not shallow or fleeting,
As it seems our democracy is.
By Dee Dee Risher
For her 40th birthday, my friend, artist Michaelanne Harriman Helms asked a group of artist friends to spend a year reflecting on Psalm 90. We all did work—some of it visual art, some of it written. She asked me to write on the themes that came up for me, sparked by the psalm. For me, that became a three-part poem. But for our broad community at Radical Discipleship, I have adapted that poem into this psalm-prayer. I suggest reading Psalm 90, then this redaction of my poem.
To gain a heart of wisdom, I must
no longer
number my days:
release the clock that haunts
my small self,
lusting after illusions of influence
which will decay, scatter, leave no mark Continue reading
By Dee Dee Risher
God, this day,
return me to ordinary time.
Small actions of love:
touching a beloved’s hand,
catching the eye of a stranger,
a pause to contemplate that single violet,
all blooming purple heart. Continue reading
By Dee Dee Risher
Never let me be the one
Used to make a point
like the unfortunate Thomas,
yoked forever to “doubting.”
By implication: weak of faith.
Lifted up to instruct
generations in how not to act;
in the virtue of
believing that which one has not witnessed
and the dangers of asking for proof. Continue reading
Photo credit: Tim Nafziger
By Dee Dee Risher
Oh incarnated one,
who is mystery and nurture,
calling our names
while we are outside, weeping;
walking the road
with those who are in grief,
being known in the breaking of bread;
cooking breakfast on the beach… Continue reading
