You, O God, are the God of life.
When the world was not yet,
when the earth was just a formless void,
and darkness covered the deep,
Your Spirit swept over the face of the deep and creation was begun.
Into the dawn of Your creation,
when the earth was yet barren and without life,
You took the dust of the ground and formed humankind,
breathing into us the breath of life.
When, in the course of time,
we fell away from You,
and the world was corrupt and full of violence,
You sent rain for 40 days and 40 nights,
washing away all that was evil and without light and creating space for new life.
When we found ourselves enslaved to Pharaoh,
You delivered us,
taking us through the Red Sea and into the dusty desert.
Out of death and dust,
slavery and oppression,
You traveled with us to a land of new life.
A pillar of cloud by day and fire by night,
You went before us, leading us to a land flowing with milk and honey.
Step by step, for 40 years, You stayed with us.
When we were exiled from the land to which You led us,
You left with us.
Vacating the Temple in Jerusalem,
You were with us by the rivers of Babylon
where we sat and wept when we remembered Zion.
And when we were little more than a valley of dry bones—
discouraged and displaced, dismantled and divided—
You sent Your Spirit once more to breathe life into death and dust.
You knit us back together,
joining bone to bone and person to person
until once more we stood before You complete and connected,
to You and to each other.
You have always been the God of life.
And so we come to You this evening with the question,
How long?
How long, O Lord, will violence fill the earth and injustice rule the day?
How long?
How long must the people we love be taken from us in the span of a heartbeat, in the slow decay of disease?
How long?
How long, O God, until it is on earth as it is in heaven?
How long until Your kingdom breaks forth in our midst?
How long?
Into the dry darkness of this season,
and the depths of despair to which our spirits can sink,
we yearn for Your world-creating Spirit.
Awed by the scope of Your creative power,
we wait for the mountain-moving wind,
the world-shaking earthquake,
or the all-consuming fire to wipe clean the slate.
To right the wrongs.
To recreate the world in Your vision.
But You are not the created and we are not Your creator.
And You are not always the God we would have chosen …
When we wanted fire and brimstone,
You came near in the sound of sheer silence.
When we wanted a savior to be our king,
You sent Your Son to die for our sins.
You are not always the God we would choose and so we give thanks that You choose us.
We give thanks that You are bigger than us,
that You are the Creator and we the created.
We give thanks—if sometimes begrudgingly—
that You do not allow us easy exoneration.
If You would only act the way we expect,
the way we would prefer,
we could pretend that the troubles of the world do not involve us …
If You were a more compliant God,
we could believe that we are the exception—
that death is real,
but not for us …
that repentance is necessary,
but not for us …
But You are the Creator of heaven and earth,
You are the architect of the stars, and You are the force behind all of life.
You are not a God we can create in our own image.
You are not a God from whom we can hide our truest selves.
From dust to dust and ashes to ashes,
deep calls to deep,
and we know that
all is not always
well with our souls.
And so, we sit in silence.
We sit in silence and wait with dirt on our face.
Because You are the creator of heaven and earth
and You are the Spirit that breathes life into dry and dusty bones
and You are the one who came to live among us,
choosing to endure the heart-rending pain of mockery, betrayal and death so that we might see—
that love is stronger than hate,
that in weakness there is great strength,
and that a broken heart is an acceptable and pleasing sacrifice to You.
So break open our hearts, suffering God.
Lay bare the places of death and decay in our lives
and shine a light into the dark corners of our souls
that we might allow Your creating, cleansing Spirit to sweep through us,
summoning up what we shall be and setting Your seal upon our hearts.
Deep calls to deep,
from dust we were created and to dust we shall return.
And so for You alone, O Lord,
our souls wait in silence.
Amen.
