Far From Home
In times of trouble, people pray. Little worries hold their tongue. A favorite cup breaks and we hardly notice. Thoughts move in circles without finding a resting place. Our usual tasks fail us. Hands keep busy but the heart is watching: what does it mean? We light candles to quell the darkness. Uneasiness opens space for you, God. Give us comfort. Show us your way.
The people forced into exile suffered another blow: their temple was destroyed. Their land was ruined by war and disease. Why dream of returning? Everything is lost. We no longer have a home. Bitterness from all sides.
In Ezechial’s dream, water flowed from a temple and grew into a mighty river. This river brought life to every creature on its banks. Those who listened drew hope from their prophet’s vision: war and captivity are not final. God is present. The scarred land will be healed. Like the fig tree, we too will blossom.
The man waited for years. He waited nearly a lifetime. The time was never right. Something always got in the way. Water swirled before him, but he stayed dry. Excuses propped him up. Then Jesus said “Stand up. Pick up your mat and get moving.” Now is the time.
Heal us, God, from our silence and our watching. Send us on your way.
Jeanne Schuler
We live in the city near the university with our three children, so work and family form almost a whole…but not a seamless whole. Family, faith, work, old neighborhoods, leftist (leftover) politics, and enough community are my measures of reality. Also, a good dog named Sid.
Scripture has depths missing from other forms of wisdom. This is closer to the ground we walk on.
