Visit the WORSHIP page to view the video invitation from Martin Fair to watch this service at 10 a.m. on Sunday (31st May, 2020) morning. Underneath the video is a pdf documenting an order of service and providing the words to the songs, etc.  This service will remain on YouTube for some time, so if you cannot watch it at 10 a.m., you can watch it later.  A link to the broadcast will be posted on our WORSHIP page, etc,  at a later time.

Our own service for Pentecost will be available on YouTube, Facebook and our WORSHIP page from 11.30 a.m. (or earlier) and will remain available for a week or two.

The Moderator of the General Assembly, Right Reverend, Dr Martin Fair, is to host a Pentecost service on Sunday 31st May, 2020.

Congregations across Scotland will be joining together—remotely—for a special Pentecost service on 31 May.
Rt Rev Martin Fair will be hosting the service which will include worship, prayers, music, a sermon, Bible readings, and will close with the Moderator’s wife Mrs Elaine Fair singing The Blessing.
The Moderator is encouraging congregations and people of faith across Scotland, and beyond, to join together in worship as a whole church.
“Pentecost Sunday is an opportunity to rejoice in the birth of the church and to celebrate our togetherness as a church family,” Dr Fair said.
“It was the coming of the Spirit upon those first disciples that brought the church to life, with power and passion - and the same Spirit unites us still.”
“Even though we cannot be together in person, we can be together in spirit. We can share in the same worship, pray together using the same words, be inspired together by the same Bible verses and affirm our unity as the body of Christ here on earth.
"Ordinarily, the worship of the Church is offered locally, rightly so. But it seems to me that in these present circumstances there is merit in giving over one Sunday to come together.”

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Therefore...
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May 26, 2020
Written by Martha Spong
The end of everything has come. Therefore... - 1 Peter 4:7 (CEB)

In the past few months, blogposts, think pieces, and memes have offered both recommendations and explanations for human behavior during the new abnormal of pandemic response. We list our Netflix favorites, or share our accomplishments, or fuss at people handling things differently, or offer to let ourselves off the hook entirely for the basics of life.

The letter we call 1 Peter went out from Rome, we think, to a young Christian community. As the community grew deeper in their faith, the writer offered a word about how to live alongside the “normal” way of being for first-century people. They were a minority in their beliefs, which included the belief that normal was temporary. The end of the world was coming, they thought, when Christ would return and all the bad things would be over and God's goodness would prevail.

Therefore...

How do we know how to act and what to prioritize when everything we counted on seems to be over? The letter recommends exercising self-control, remaining clear-headed, showing sincere love for others, and serving people in need by using the gifts God has given us.

It’s a good word for this season, when we may be spiraling over the news and tempted to deny what’s happening and play games on our phones instead. The situation in the world is complicated, and it feels like the end of everything we have counted on for our security.

Take a minute, an hour, a day to do what helps you feel better, but let’s not give up on what matters. Let’s look around for something, one thing, we can do to help someone else.

Prayer
Holy One, help us to help each other, for your sake. Amen.



Why Bother?
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May 25, 2020
Written by Donna Schaper
Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. - Luke 18:1 (NIV)

One of my students in a chaplaincy course this spring was a 70-year-old psychoanalyst considering transitioning to a chaplaincy role. She said to the class at the height of the Covid-19 crisis, “I woke up this morning and said to myself, ‘Why bother to get out of bed?’”

She did get out of bed, showed up to tele-meet her first patient, and took a kind of counselor’s risk: “I took my first patient and she said to me, ‘How are you doing?’ And I told her I woke up this morning wondering why bother? Then of course I turned the question on her. 'Why did you wake up this morning?’”

“She said, ‘So I could talk to you.’” That response kept my mature student going.

Sometimes we give up prematurely. Sometimes we hang on too long. Sometimes we over function. Sometimes it is just hard to function.

Sometimes we do too much. Sometimes we do too little. When Covid-19 is all gone and but a faint memory, I wonder what story we will tell about ourselves.

Prayer
O God, help us be the subject of the story we tell about ourselves and not its object. And let us surely receive the gifts others make to our stories. And never to be afraid of our weakness. And never to stop bothering. Amen.



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A, B, C, D, E, F, G
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May 24, 2020
Written by Mary Luti
God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear …
though the mountains should shake
in the heart of the sea. - Psalm 46:1-2 (NRSV)

In a recent pastoral letter, the Episcopal Bishop of Massachusetts told this story: A man was caught in an earthquake. Stricken with terror, he tried to pray but couldn’t find any words. He’d recited countless prayers all his life, but in his panic, he couldn’t recall a single one. So he recited the only thing that came into his head. He prayed the alphabet. “A, b, c, d, e, f, g…” he offered fervently, “…h, i, j, k, l, m, n, o, p…” It was the most genuine prayer of his life, and there can be no doubt God heard him.

These days, lots of us can’t focus. We forget what day it is sometimes. Things that once came naturally to us seem unfamiliar and require concentration we don’t have. The ground beneath us is shaky. The danger is real. So is the dread.

We cope with it by paying loving attention to the details of daily life, observing the rules of confinement, sharing our resources, being patient, and mustering hope and good cheer. This is what life is now, and it’s good. It’s also exhausting.

This is no time to be worried about finding the right words or looking good or getting a hundred on the quiz. It’s not the moment, if there ever was one, to prove anything to anyone. It’s a time to be real, and to let that be the good thing it is.

We’re all praying the alphabet as the world shakes. It’s all we can manage. And it’s fine.

Prayer
Hear my prayer, O God: a, b, c, d, e, f, g….
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God Is Still Sleeping
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May 23, 2020
Written by Kaji Dousa
Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We're going to drown!” He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. - Matthew 8:24-26 (NIV)

The idea of Jesus sleeping seems … bizarre. It is hard to imagine God asleep. With eyes closed. Did Jesus snore? Did he kick in his sleep? Did he wander about in holy somnambulance? If so, did that make the disciples nervous?

Even asking the questions of what Jesus asleep might look like feels … irreverent. For me, imagining the contours of Jesus’ humanity makes him feel more human than my faith has prepared me to consider.

But the Gospel tells us that Jesus slept.

The story of Creation tells us that on the seventh day, God rested and Shabbat – or sabbath – was introduced. The Decalogue made it a commandment: Remember the sabbath and keep it holy.

So if rest is so holy and if God has rested since the dawn of Creation, then why do I have such a hard time letting Jesus sleep?

Could it be because there's always a storm raging somewhere? Could it be that I worry that God will sleep through my own storms and ignore my pleas for help? Might it be all well and good that God rests, but what about when the waves sweep over my boat and I fear it will pitch over and take me under? God can rest except when I need my rescue, I feel.

Jesus’ words to the anxious disciples in their own “furious storm” are instructively salvific. Rest matters so much that even God does it. But faith means knowing that when we need to be saved:

God will calm the lake.

Prayer
Maybe we think, O God, that you are sleeping away our salvation. Thank you for sending Jesus to show us better. Amen.



No Good Christians
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May 22, 2020
Written by Matthew Laney
For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of good works, so that no one may boast.” - Ephesians 2:8 (NRSV)

I sometimes hear people say that Christianity is all about being a good person, or becoming a better person. While I appreciate the sentiment, I think it’s off-base.

For me, Christianity has little to do with being a good person. The essence of the Christian faith is this: God loves us not because we are good but because God is good. The above text says it best.

Christians are not measured by their good deeds or bad deeds. In fact, let’s ditch the notions of “good Christian” and “bad Christian” altogether. Christians may do good out of gratitude for the goodness of God, but if we fail to do good, well, God still loves us and the core truth of Christianity is undisturbed.

Does that mean a person can be an authentic, faithful Christian while being a lousy human? Absolutely yes. I’d be happy to introduce you to a few, including me in my worst moments.

Please do all the good you can. Our world can’t get enough. But no amount of good deeds can save you or earn God’s love, which is a free gift. That is not only good news, it’s the best news ever.

Prayer
Let my life be my hallelujah in response to your gift of unmerited grace.
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Clothed with Power
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May 21, 2020
Written by Talitha Arnold
“Wait in the city of Jerusalem until you are clothed with power from on high.” - Luke 24:49 (WEB)

Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) is much in the news right now. From grocery clerks to medical staff, bus drivers to nursing home aides, essential workers need protective clothing, goggles, and other gear to ward off the coronavirus and stay safe. The rest of us also need masks and gloves, not just for our protection, but to protect others from ourselves.

In Luke’s final resurrection story, the risen Christ reminds his disciples of their need for another kind of PPE, too. “Wait in Jerusalem,” he tells them, “until you are clothed with power from on high.”

Like the disciples, we need to be clothed with God’s power, especially in this time. Whether we’re on the front lines in a hospital ICU, stocking groceries at a supermarket, or sheltering in place in our apartments or homes, we need to be clothed with the power of God’s love that overcomes despair. Clothed with the power of God’s peace that calms our anxious spirits. Clothed with the power of God’s compassion to stay open to the needs of others. Clothed with the power of God’s wisdom to know what we must do, and clothed with the power of God’s courage to do it. Most of all, we need to be clothed with the power of God’s presence that holds us, comforts us, connects us even in isolation and quarantine.

We need God’s PPE right now. Whether at home in our pyjamas or clad in scrubs, masks, and gloves, we need to let God wrap us in power and hope, love and wisdom this day. Every day.

Prayer
God, remind us to pray every morning for you to clothe us all with your power, wisdom, and love. Amen.
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Exactly
May 20, 2020
Written by Quinn Caldwell
The LORD leads me beside still waters;
they restore my soul.
They lead me in right paths
for their name’s sake.
- Psalm 23:1-3 (NRSV, adapted)

My son and I hike along, looking for the next flash of colour. Those who knew the way through this forest have gone ahead of us, painting blue blazes on the trees to lead us in right paths.

I think of the ancestors who set aside this state forest, the ones who blazed the trail. What did they think we’d be using this for? Did they know that one day we’d be out here because we had nowhere else to go except the living room? That we’d be walking their path in search of virus-free air?

What about the ones who built the local library? What would they say if they knew the building was closed, the books inaccessible ... but that the library was going strong, doing a rip-roaring business restoring people’s souls with books downloaded from the sky?

How about the founders of your church? What would they say about the still living waters God and your pastors are pouring through your screen each week despite the shuttered sanctuary? Would they recognize you as their church, worshiping there in your jammies in the living room?

Maybe hiking in the woods to escape lockdown isn’t what the sylvan ancestors envisioned. Maybe accessing your library on your phone isn’t what the bookish ancestors planned for. Maybe church on the computer isn’t the kind of thing the charter ancestors would have wanted.

Or maybe it is, exactly.

Prayer
For the gifts of the ancestors, for the paths they blazed and the institutions they started, and for your Spirit, showing us new ways and purposes for using them, thank you. Amen.
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The Power of Patience
May 19, 2020
Written by marchae grair
Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord's coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. - James 5:7 (NIV)

“No mom. I can do it.”

Of course I knew it all at five. After relentlessly telling my mom I didn’t need her help brushing my teeth, she finally gave in. It took approximately 2.5 seconds for me to drop a huge glob of toothpaste on my new dress.

It was picture day, and she sent me to school with a smiling face and a huge white stain in the centre of my chest.

My first school picture is my favourite school picture because it was my first real lesson in the wisdom of patience.

There are so many times I’ve looked at God’s presence in my life like I looked at my mother’s hand that day. I want God to just hand over my problems and let me figure out a solution. So many of us share the kryptonite of the “just let me do it” spirit.

In God’s Divine wisdom, perhaps She knows we need reminders to slow down and wait.

James told the early Church that there is reaping in the waiting. He explains farmers must spend just as much time planting as they do waiting – and both are equally important to the process of growth.

Maybe it’s time we slow down and let God have our toothbrush.

We might just hear a Word from on high. We might realize we should go left instead of right.

We might just realize how much wisdom can be found in the waiting.

Prayer
Dear God, in a world that doesn't stop moving, help me find peace in showing patience. Amen.
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The Same Boat
May 18, 2020
Written by Vince Amlin
The soldiers’ plan was to kill the prisoners … but the centurion ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and make for the land, and the rest to follow, some on planks and others on pieces of the ship. And so it was that all were brought safely to land. - Acts 27:42-44, excerpted (NRSV)

Some say we’re all in the same boat during this pandemic. But as this story from Acts shows, even people in the same boat aren’t in the same boat.

Some can swim; some can’t. Some have decision-making power; some don’t. Some have just been saved from death; others are still heading to their executions. Not the same boat.

When I pray with members of my congregations who still have to leave their homes every day to do work that is unsafe, I know we’re not in the same boat.

When I hear my friends Kaji and Donna describe ministry in New York City, where, as I write, almost 1 in 400 people has died, I know we’re not in the same boat.

When I see that black citizens of Chicago are dying at 6-times the rate of whites, I know.

We are not even in the same storm.

Paul himself offers a different model of solidarity. “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.”

Rather than claiming we’re in the same boat, the gospel tells me to find out about my neighbour’s boat. Seek to understand their experience of this storm. And listen when they tell me what I can never understand.

It prompts me to ask how we ended up in such different boats. And do something about it. And not stop until everyone is brought safely to land.

Prayer
Bring us all safely to land.



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At the Cross
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May 17, 2020
Written by Mary Luti
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. - John 19:25 (NRSV)

Most COVID-19 deaths haven’t been good deaths in that way we hope death will be: comforted by family, eased by sedatives, soft music playing in the room. They’ve been isolated in ICUs, stacked in chaotic corridors, hidden in nursing homes where no one noticed for days.

This isn’t to say that doctors and nurses haven’t been heroic, risking their own lives to render beautiful care. It’s only to say that what’s come upon us is a genuine horror.

Most of us don’t work in overwhelmed hospitals and makeshift morgues. We’re not digging anonymous graves. We’re shielded from these awful scenes.

And why would we want to dwell on them, anyway? Aren’t we an Easter people? Don’t we specialize in hope, in divine silver linings, in life in the midst of death?

Yes, and we’re right always to insist on hope. But maybe not so reflexively, maybe not so fast. For there are times when we’d do better to stay longer at the cross, to stand still there absorbing the pain for a while before we proclaim the Easter joy.

Faith isn’t faith if it marches us straight to glory without passing despair. If it notices the statistics but not the deaths. If it gets Jesus off the cross and into glory with unseemly haste. Our piety must never separate us from our humanity. If we are too quick to say, “All will be well,” we make faith incredible.

Christians live in the midst of two realities – unrelenting pain and a joy no circumstance can alter. Faith never evades that pain to proclaim that joy.

Prayer
Jesus, keep us near your cross, even as we announce in hope the death of death in your glorious resurrection.
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It’s Going to Be Bad
May 16, 2020
Written by Rachel Hackenberg
“Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away.’ … I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.” – John 14:27b-29 (NRSV)

It’s the speech that I call The Great Assurance – Jesus’ efforts to prepare, to steady, and to comfort those closest to him before the you-know-what hits the fan.

“You have heard me say, ‘It’s going to be bad.’ I’m telling you again – it’s going to be bad – so that when the bad begins and when the bad overwhelms you, you’ll be prepared to hold on to love and remember that you’re not alone.”

Infectious disease experts are telling us that the bad will be with us for many months.

Climate scientists are telling us that the bad will be impacting human behavior for decades to come.

Psychologists are telling us that the bad could have generational consequences.

Genocide scholars and anti-racism activists are telling us that the bad will keep rearing its evil head, day after day.

“I’m telling you, ‘It’s going to be bad,’ so that you’ll be prepared to hold on to love and remember that you’re not alone. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

Friends, it’s bad these days – for a lot of reasons. Many of us feel unprepared. Instability is on public display when we most need steadiness. Comfort seems to be practicing social distancing.

Keep holding on to love.

Remember that you’re not alone.

Keep holding on to love.

Remember that you’re not alone.

Prayer
It’s bad, Jesus. It’s really bad, and the end isn’t in sight. Let there be love, for the living of each day. Let there be solidarity, for the perseverance of healing.
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Wait…How Long?
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May 15, 2020
Written by John Edgerton
In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, on the seventeenth day of the second month, on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened. The rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights. - Genesis 7:11-12 (NIV)

Forty days is a good, solid, biblical number. It signifies completeness, totality. It is time fulfilled. For it to rain for forty days means it well and truly rained for as long as one could imagine.

But here’s the part of the story that I forgot from Sunday School: exactly how long Noah and his family had to stay in the ark. Hint: it’s a lot longer than 40 days.

“And the waters swelled on the earth for one hundred fifty days.” (Genesis 7:24, NIV)

Yup, 150 days. That’s how long Noah and his family were sequestered in the ark, forced by calamity to withdraw from the world with no human company but one another. If 40 days signifies completeness of time, then 150 days signifies … way too stinkin’ long of a time. No longer symbolic, no longer cute, no longer novel.

Just way … too … long.

As those first 40 days and nights came to a close and the rain stopped, Noah and his family must have felt thrilled. With the worst of the danger passed, they must have been itching to end their confinement.

But that’s not what happened. It dragged on and on.

The story of humanity’s deliverance from global devastation is a story of counting days and losing track of days. It is a story of thinking the worst is over, only to find it’s just begun.

It is a story I am holding on to today, because it means I am not the first child of God to feel the way I am feeling.

Prayer
God of the endless march of days, be with me in these hard times.
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​The Longest Shortest Time
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May 14, 2020
Written by Kit Novotny
With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. - 2 Peter 3:8 (NRSV)

The mysterious alchemy of sacred time, according to 2 Peter, sounds a lot like the dual nature of time with children.

Time with kids does weird things. It drags. Like an endless witching hour bouncing on a yoga ball with a colicky newborn until your arms fall off, or ten minutes keeping a squirrelly toddler from certain death (which you’d swear was at least an hour), or the longest awkward silence with a pubescent tweenager. There are days that feel like eternities, bottomless pits leading to new levels of exhaustion.

Time with kids does weird things. It flies. Like some kind of fast-forward warp-speed carnival ride, the clock hands spinning. Parents throughout every age rub their eyes and ask the perennial question: “When and how did my little baby turn into this big kid?” or eventually “…into this grown adult, sometimes, this stranger?”

The comedian Tig Notaro has a joke that all her friends who are having kids send out totally predictable updates inevitably laced with the question, “Can you believe it?” Like, “Caitlin is starting kindergarten this year. Can you believe it?” After a long pause, she deadpans, perfectly: “I don’t know. I mean, what is she, about five? That sounds about right. Yeah, I can believe that.” It’s funny because it’s true. But when it’s your kid, the simple reality of time passing is hard to believe, impossible and miraculous, both the thing most longed-for and most wished-against.

The days are long, but the years are short, as many a well-meaning acquaintance has offered to frazzled parents just trying to make it to bedtime. Time with kids, like time with God, does weird things. It is the longest, shortest time (which also happens to be the name of my favourite parenting podcast). It drags and flies, expands and contracts. And through it all, God is patient with us.

Prayer
Eternal One, all time is yours. Remind us, by your amazing grace, that when we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing your praise, than when we’d first begun.

As you may all be aware, this is Christian Aid Week,  but due to the current restrictions there will be NO Tay Bridge Walk, Envelopes or Coffee Morning.
You can however still donate. If you go to the Christian Aid website and click “Please donate today” it will explain what to do. I have already done it and it is very simple.
Helen Rosie

​https://www.christianaid.org.uk/appeals/key-appeals/christian-aid-week

​Keep Crying
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May 13, 2020
Written by Molly Baskette
Hear my prayer, O Lord, let my cry come to you. Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Incline your ear to me; answer me speedily in the day when I call. For my days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace. - Psalm 102:1-3 (NRSV)

I don’t remember ever having the flu as a child, but I got it 3 times in 6 years as an adult, and it was awful. I suddenly understood how people can just up and die from it.

It isn’t just the strain on the body’s systems, the secondary pneumonia that can happen, the pressured vital organs. Flu does something to the spirit. It takes the sturdy skein of human will, and – cackling like a villain – stretches it on a grim spinning wheel until it is so fine it threatens to snap. In the worst of my illness (and let me be clear: from a medical point of view, I was nowhere near dying), I felt that I could literally just let go, float away on a gentle breeze and into the arms of God.

The last time I had flu, my bedroom was far away from the hub of our new house. Too weak to move, I cried out to my family for tea, ibuprofen, and attention. It took all the strength I had, and felt like ages until someone heard me. But they came.

The psalmist normalizes crying out, again and again. If we cry out, and God doesn’t answer, it doesn’t mean we are not worthy of attention. It just means we need to keep crying. Perhaps a little louder.

Cry when you are sick, and cry when you are sad. Cry for yourself, and cry for others. Hold on to that little thread of will, let it anchor you here, even when you feel like it would be easier just to let go. If it seems that God doesn’t hear you – someone else might.

Prayer
God, don’t be indifferent to my pain. Our pain. Come quickly. Amen.
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​Belonging
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May 12, 2020
Written by Donna Schaper
Now Elimelek, Naomi’s’ husband, died and she was left with her two sons. They married Moabite women, one named Orpah and the other Ruth. - Ruth 1:3-4 (NIV)

Naomi’s sons married a little but not a lot outside their tribe. Then again, maybe her sons’ marriages paved the way for Naomi to become a belonger to a new tribe, a female one, the gendered kind of tribe that matters a little more than most people think it does.

Consider the tribe of old retired men at the morning diner, 6:30 prompt. Three cups of coffee later, they feel like they can face their days. Think about the last conversation you had with a woman friend about the 2020 primaries, or the tribes of women voters in the 2016 and 2020 presidential election seasons.

Along comes Mother’s Day season with a story about Elimelek dying, a woman being left with her two sons who married into the Moabite tribe. Belonging to a tribe is really important – especially when we exhibit the freedom to live outside of one as well as in one. Belonging can be a bear if we overdo it. It can be a joy if we do it. Elimelek’s dying made way for a new kind of tribe, for his sons and for his widow.

This Mother’s Day, I appreciate the tribe of women. The tribe that challenged swim coaches who tried to harass their daughters. The tribe that took great risks to protect the life of the next generation, like the mother who “stole” eggs at 3 a.m. from a neighbour’s chickens so her daughter could grow strong. The tribe of Women’s Fellowships (what a funny word now) who bonded woman-to-woman around mission, ministry, and shared miseries and joys. An award should be given to every woman who ever led a Bible study.

Prayer
Mother-Father God, we love you very much. All of you and all your tribes. Amen.
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​He Fell on His Face
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May 11, 2020
Written by Elizabeth Griswold
Leaders of the congregation, chosen from the assembly… assembled against Moses and against Aaron, and said to them, “You have gone too far! ... Why do you exalt yourselves above the assembly of the Lord?” When Moses heard it, he fell on his face. - Numbers 16:2b, 3-4 (NRSV)

He fell on his face. Wow. This great leader too? Did he fall in despair? Exhaustion? Shame? Humility? Or in prayer?

And what brought this on? It was a community turning in on itself, a community collapsing into in-fighting, accusations, and struggles over power. How could the best-intentioned group of people, folks dedicated to God’s ways of justice, ever stoop so low? Especially when they were threatened externally with much larger challenges? Yet it sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Every congregation has such earth-shattering crises, its version of “The Great Church Council Debate (of 2013 … or 1983 …. or 1893).” Every social justice organization remembers that horrible break-up of staff or desertion of donors. That time the leaders turned against us and we fell on our faces in despair, in exhaustion, in shame, in humility, in prayer. When we found ourselves with a mouthful of earth and nothing else to say.

Of course for Moses, God resolved the debate by opening that very earth swallow up the complainers! Since that isn’t exactly an option for us, maybe we can look to what Moses does after the collapse: he pulls himself up and pulls it together, attempts reconciliation, and calls everyone back to God.

Prayer
God, as we stumble in our attempts to follow your ways of justice, after each earth-rending face-plant — please lift us up, dust us off, and breathe your life into us once again.



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