For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there.

Psalm [83] or 34 • Psalm 85, 86
Num. 12:1-16 • Rom. 2:12-24 • Matt. 18:10-20

On the day I write this, yesterday was George Floyd’s funeral. I am late turning in this reflection. I have sat down to write, searched the readings, praying and listening for guidance. Please give me the words, God — I have none.

These last weeks, my mind is flooded with images of suffering. My stomach feels twisted and sick at the complicity my white privilege occupied. The lump in my throat stays. My heart is tired from aching. Oh God, forgive my ignorance!

Like you, the pandemic weighs on me. Like someone you know, some of my loved ones have been sick or have lost income. The nights when I am restless and neither sudoku nor reruns distract me, I go outside and see if the wind in the darkness will quell the slow waves of my uncertainty.

So much pain in the world. So many things, people to pray for. Even my prayers become overwhelming to me.

But today, I see the delicate grace of all the loving energy in the world: I am not meant to be certain, to be without discomfort in the unknown. Today, I open a dusty, untouched book and there on the page, I see God’s hand and know I am in a sacred moment, a thin place. Today, I find a prayer and know that God is with us.

Beloved Beyond Boundaries:

I lift up my heart for the poor, the kidnapped, the forsaken, the alone, the tortured, the abused, the hospitalized, the falsely accused, the hungry, the wounded souls of our world.

In the prayer of my heart, I request a different future, breaking the bonds of suffering, bringing healing and wholeness in the name of Christ. Amen.

Written by Bernadette Reda

In addition to her favorite pastimes of disassembling small appliances and making bad puns, Bernadette is learning to write left-handed and play the uke (sort of!).