July 03, 2012
You are the God of beginning and birth and newness. At the dawn of the day, we can hardly dismiss Your staggering way of genesis among us.
And yet, in the many crevices of our hearts, we notice that which is not new and territories where there is no newness.
We hear Your radical promises of healing, and we remember those in Turkey who are newly without homes or clean water or daughters or daddies.
We read of Your infinite willingness to make alive, and images come to mind of mothers searching the rubble for their babes.
You said, good God. You said.
And we want to believe.
But we imagine You distant and hidden in these places where there is no newness …
Would You give us imaginations of faith to see and anticipate the inception of Your mercies; grant us the willingness to dream again in prayer and petitions for a world of birth in place of this death.
Grace us with Your Self in the darkness of these not-new phrases, give us the courage to whisper "yet".
Hi, friend. I'm Amy. Mostly, I’m just another twenty-something trying to figure out the stuff of life. I am a nerdy seminary student who loves the smell of old books and early mornings in the library. I am an artist wanabee, a liberal to the conservative and conservative to the liberal, guilty social justice groupie, and a recovering Bible know-it-all with the unreal ability to put my foot in my mouth an astonishing number of times each day. I am a sister to eight of the most hysterical creatures ever created. Good theology, used book stores, and autumn make me giddy. I preach passionately, think deeply, and ask too many questions. I write prayers, poetry and prose. I write about preaching bad and good, gender roles in the Church, the sacraments, stupid things we do on Sunday, politics, and almost everything else that you are not supposed to discuss in polite company. I also blog at oneyellowbird.blogspot.com. Welcome to the journey.