Liturgy: Khalilah Kersey
I recently have been reading Every Moment Holy, a book of liturgies written by Douglas McKelvey. It has brought me much life, and so I thought I’d offer my own voice to you.
A Liturgy For One Who Has Not Seen the Fruit of Their Labor
Christian: O God, I am deeply troubled.
Fellow Believer: Come to the Lord in all your dismay. May you feel confident knowing that you have His listening ear.
O Lord, have I gone blind? I have toiled and labored and yet I do not see any fruit. Am I not doing enough? Is the harvest not plentiful?
The quality of your labor is not for your own evaluation. The work you do is an imperfect offering to the Lord which He takes up hopefully and gracefully and does what He has always done: work things together for His good. So then, you may rest easy knowing that you will not hinder the work of the Lord.
Help me to rejoice at the invitation to labor alongside Him.
Your labor is not in vain.
Help me to desire not only the fruit and benefit of my labor, but also closeness with my fellow believers who are working with me to do the tasks that the Lord has set before us.
Your labor is not in vain.
Help me to wait on You in all things, Lord.
Your labor is not in vain.
Help me to remember that the fruit has always and will always belong to you, and that the claim I have to any reward or benefit of this work is given to me by the mercy of our Lord.
Your labor is not in vain.
Amen.
A Liturgy for Those Who are Having Trouble Seeing the Lord’s Goodness
Have I grown so accustomed to the darkness that I no longer recognize your light, O Lord?
Let my eyes see your dominion over all the world.
Let me be blind no longer.
Let my ears hear the moon, sun, and stars singing your praises.
Let me be deaf no longer.
Orient my entire being toward your presence in this world.
Ignite my senses so that in every way I would become more aware of you, O God.
I must admit that I fear I may never come to know your goodness, and in my fear I struggle to come to you at all.
I am told that you see me in my stress and disappointment, as well as my expectation and waiting. I ask that you would descend upon me now, Lord, and cover me.
Hide me in your depth for the rest of my days, and I ask for your patience as you slowly remove the scales from my eyes and as I slowly come to know you, knowing that this will be a lifelong process. I eagerly await discoveries about myself that can only be made by being in communion with you. I know that in you there is enough space for my distress and confusion and doubt and awe.
Help me to reimagine my conceptions of good and right. Give me the desire to hold myself open to instruction, sharpening, pruning, and love.
I wait for you in continued expectation.
Amen.