Sunday morning Prayer

Words washed over us...
Words spoken and sung.
Words that had soaked and saturated the well worn pews.
Words that had been woven into the wood work by our grandmothers and great grandfathers, people we never met, but nevertheless, had sat in this very place in years gone by.

Words washed over us...
As the Scripture was read.
Some words leap from the lecture and liturgists mouth
Awakening us.
Some words land with a thud in our laps and sit there patiently waiting for us to pay attention,
when we would rather forget.
Some words enter in and exit quickly barely leaving a trace of God's grace.

Words washed over us...
As the pastor preached.
As Karl Barth once said, "For us the Word of God became flesh...
And pastors take that truth and turn it back into words."
Ordinary words.
Sacred words.
Words that resonate and reason and reside and we release out of our memory to make room for something else that week.

Words washed over us...
As we sipped cups of coffee
Talking about the weather or the sports scores or doctor's appointments.
Words
Words
Words surround us on Sunday mornings.

I pray that this Sunday some of those words might even be God trying to get a word in edgewise.
I pray that this Sunday out of the still small silence might speak/whisper/love us into wholeness.

Amen.