A Prayer for Your Sunday Evening

Timeless and Tireless Lord Jesus,

Another week has gone or come depending on how I look at it. But either way, when I’m honest with myself I can hardly remember a single minute as distinct from another… let alone distinct seconds… like those ones where in your eternal wisdom you stopped me with a traffic signal; or the ones where my clamorous alarm disturbed my sleep and felt entitled to more rest. Seconds, mere seconds, in the scope of eternity and they seemed mountainous at the time. True, you have made me a dynamic, time-bound, and finite creature who must deal with events as they happen—so it’s fine that I do, but how often did those moments turn to sin? How many seconds did I waste away apart from your glorious joy and peace? In those regretful moments I doubted your goodness and your wisdom, and so now… days later I ask forgiveness. You are my Protector and my Guide but I assailed you. Forgive me. I know now that every single moment is intended to bring about eternal goodness for me and everyone else who loves you, but time after time I forget it—or call it lie. Forgive me and every other one of your children who has done so this week. Restore us to an awareness of your being. Eternal, infinite, powerful, good, Savior, Creator, Provider, Redeemer, Father, Love, Deliver, King, conquering Priest, Holy One—you are. Remind me.

It is easy to make the big jump: it’s easy to promise that when it comes down to it I would sacrifice my life, a martyr for your name. But it’s much, much more difficult to live in the menial and tedious moments in such a way that I truly consider you worthy of sacrifice. Self-sacrifice in monotony is immensely more difficult than self-sacrifice in a flash of glory… at least it certainly seems that way. In the same way, it’s easy for me to know and remember that all things weave together for the sanctifying good of your people, but it’s much more difficult to remember that in ‘chance’ events in miniscule degree, the same is true. So please sanctify me to such a degree that I doubt not your providential hand in minutiae, but instead can show unto others the presence of peace you offer because of your wondrous acts. Make me like you as much and moreso as Phileas Fogg—never regretting a moment of mischance but engaging it for all you have prepared it to be worth. When trapped by an overhanging red signal, compel me to breathe deeply and enjoy the world around me. When coerced by pseudo-melodies to leave dreamland, impress my mind with a semblance of waking from death to life through your renewing Spirit.

Do not let me forsake the small things. It is only because of Christ’s own incarnate righteousness that I know this is even possible, but now I ask that you unite me unto him in greater measure. May my life reflect such reality.