A Prayer to the Christ of All Seasons

O Christ—

Flame of the burning bush,

Still small voice in the whirlwind,

You who walked on storm and called it peace,

Draw near.

I do not come with answers,

only with a heart worn thin by the world,

and hands open like the wounds You still bear.

Teach me again what love looks like

with skin on.

You, Carpenter of galaxies,

Shape me.

Nail my pride to the wood of Your mercy.

Let my soul rise again

like dawn from a borrowed tomb.

When I am the fig tree that bears no fruit,

speak still to my roots.

When I am the lost sheep,

break into my wandering with Your shepherd’s song.

Make of my prayers a kind of bread—

simple, broken,

enough for this day.

Teach me to feed the hungry with it.

O Jesus,

friend of outcasts,

lamb of God and lion of Judah,

walk with me through this wilderness

until my heart learns to beat.

in rhythm with Yours.

Pour your grace like wine into my cracked cup.

Make me a vessel of your strange and wondrous peace.

Let my life be one long Alleluia,

even in the shadows.

Amen.