There is no such thing as someone else's child

Two weeks ago we saw an image of a child in Ghana who was forced into slavery to work for men on a fishing boat.  I have that image etched in my mind.  It is a picture of a rescue team leaning over the boat into the deep waters desperately trying to pull the boy to safety.  I sat here with tears in my eyes, because if that was my son, I would stop at nothing to save my child.  I would jump right into that deep water, even for fear of my own life, if it meant that he would be okay. I imagine you have someone or more than one someone that you would desperately lunge toward to protect. 

Over the past two weeks as we have bombarded with story after story, image after image of attacks, shootings, death, mourning and anger.  And I am reminded of a quote that ended up in my lap on Mother’s day.  “There is no such thing as someone else’s child.”

I find it too easy to read and study and discuss the events in our world.  It is safe and educated.  

But what is not as easy, is to passionately see the pain in the world and let it break our hearts to the point where we are moved to cry out to our God in fervent prayer, because we are connected in this human family, in God’s family.  The loss of a child is the loss of our child, the loss of a mother is the loss of our mother, the loss of a friend is the loss of our friend.

And so, as we seek God this morning in prayer, I invite you to reshape the pain and struggles, and also the joy and triumph in our public arena and our private homes into something personal, something worthy of your raw and honest pleas.

Let us pray.

Holy and infinite God, Jesus our friend, Spirit that breathes among us, hear our prayers this day.

We come to you, God in confession.

We confess that we guard our hearts and our emotions and sometimes allow ourselves to become numb to the world around us.

We confess that we allow anger and slander to control our voices as we judge and condemn those in the public square and those in our homes.

We confess that we allow our lives to become busy, too full to carve out time for prayer, too busy to serve as we should.

We confess that too often we see the Goliath’s in the world and feel too small, too unequipped to take on what we know is evil.

We confess that in the face of illness and disease, we are full of fear and pain and struggle to trust that you are present.

We confess that we hold on with a tight grip to the grudges and past hurts that we are called to let go of.

Prayers of the People.  Union Church Seattle.  October 2, 2016