When Words Fail You (Or Me)

Much of being a pastor is being a writer. We write sermons. We write prayers. We write liturgy. We write curriculum. We write emails. We write newsletters. We write letters of recommendation. We write reflections on events, news stories, ministry opportunities, flyers, journal entries, blog posts, books, and more. When we aren’t writing, it feels like we’re talking. It is a constant stream of thought processing scripture, pastoral situations, books we are reading, conversations people are introducing, and then living our personal lives in between.

Because I understand my faith to be both personal and professional, personal and communal, personal and familial - and I would probably argue that’s my encouragement for you as well - all of this writing and talking and living my faith bleeds into almost every (if not, every) aspect of my life.

And sometimes, when the news gets heavy in the partisan politics or my emotions feel too raw or life simply feels more like an out of control roller coaster instead of a strategy board game, I run out of words. As a person who verbally processes a lot of her thoughts, it usually means the tank is close to empty.

My hope this week was to write a letter inviting you into a space of community that allowed for those of varying spaces, emotions, and experiences to come together for worship. Regardless of your engagement of the Primary Election this week, I wanted to find words to invite you to set aside politics and headlines to find commonality in our scripture. Regardless of your fears or dismissal of COVID-19, I wanted to find the words to invite you to accept yours and others’ humanity to be vulnerable together in prayer and song. Regardless of the experience of control or lack of control in your life right now, I wanted to find the words to invite you to lift up praise and thanksgiving for God’s presence in our lives.

Instead, I have a lot of words explaining how I just don't have eloquence today. I know in our faith community we have a fairly wide spectrum of theologies. I know in our faith community we have a fairly wide spectrum of politics, even partisan politics. I know in our faith community we have a fairly wide spectrum of life experiences, careers, family constructs, economic status, geographical locations, travel experience, and even ideas about what Sunday morning should look and feel like. And yet, so many keep coming on Sunday morning to be in the diverse space and say this faith community and this spiritual practice are important to me.

What does that mean for our prayer life? What does it mean when we're all out of words? Or, what about when our emotions are so raw we’re uncertain how to move through them? Or, what about when we feel like our life is out of control? It could be the opposite too. What do we do when everything feels like we’re moving the pieces across the proverbial game board and we question God’s role in our life. Is God there if we’re in control? And, in each of these different scenarios, does prayer look the same or is it wildly different?

I will offer my reflections on prayer tomorrow and the role it has played for me in a variety of life experiences. Even in our differences, my prayer is that you will find glimpses of your prayer life in tomorrow’s worship experience. My prayer is that regardless of the week you’ve had, the life you’ve built, and the ideologies that make you who you are, you will find a safe space to be you along with all of the rest of us and our messiness tomorrow for worship. In that space I am reminded of the beauty that is this messy world and God’s creation.

Peace,
Rev Elizabeth