Writing When You Have No Words

Life is hectic right now.

The economy is opening back up in Malaysia, more opportunities to gather are coming up and I've had the joy of gathering with friends recently.

A socially distanced lunch with my community group, a small birthday gathering with games with friends from work, a worship and dinner gathering with 2 close friends. These times have been wonderful but it does take time to get used to fitting extra things into the week. 

Add on top of that the arrival of exam marking and report writing season, a lot of extra work from the cancellation of iGCSE's, unexpected issues with my apartment that turned out to be mind bendingly complicated to solve, and the intensity of global issues right now... and my brain is not feeling like writing.

However, I do want to keep up this discipline of writing. So I went to my Celtic Book of Daily Prayer (which is a go to when I know I need to pray and don't have the words) to see if it offered me anything, and I stumbled upon this beautiful prayer:

*

A prayer for storytellers, singers, and songwriters who want to be a voice for those who have no voice; for those who want to stand in solidarity with the poor and the disadvantaged:

I cannot speak,

unless you loose my tongue;

I only stammer,

and I speak uncertainly;

but if you touch my mouth,

my Lord,

then I will sing the story 

of your wonders!  

Teach me to hear that story,

through each person,

to cradle a sense of wonder

in their life,

to honour the hard-earned wisdom

of their sufferings,

to waken their joy

that the King of all kings

stoops down 

to wash their feet,

and looking up

into their face

says,

'I know - I understand.'

This world has become

a world of broken dreams

where dreamers are hard to find

and friends are few.

Lord be the gatherer of our dreams.

You set the countless stars in place,

and found room for each of them to shine.

You listen for us in Your heaven-bright hall.

Open our mouths to tell tales of wonder.

Teach us again the greatest story ever:

the One who made the worlds

became a little, helpless child,

then grew to be a carpenter

with deep, far-seeing eyes.

In time, the Carpenter began to travel,

in every village challenging the people

to leave behind their selfish ways,

be washed in living water,

and let God be their King.

The ordinary people crowded round Him,

frightened to miss

a word He was speaking,

bringing their friends, their children,

all the sick and tired,

so everyone could meet Him,

everyone be touched and given life.

Some religious people were embarrassed

- they did not like the company He kept,

and never knew just what he would do next.

He said:

'How dare you wrap God up

in good behaviour,

and tell the poor that they

should be like you?

How can you live at ease

with riches and success,

while those I love go hungry

and are oppressed?

It really is for such a time as this

that I was given breath.'

His words were dangerous

not safe or tidy.

In secret his opponents said:

'It surely would be better that

one person die.'

'I think that would be better,

if he could.'

Expediency would be the very death of Him.

He died because they thought it might be good.

You died that we might be forgiven,

Lord; but that was not the end.

You plundered death,

and made its jail-house shudder

- strode into life

to meet Your startled friends.

I have a dream 

that all the world will meet You,

and know You, Jesus,

in Your living power,

that someday soon

all people everywhere will hear Your story,

and hear it in a way they understand.

 I cannot speak,

unless you loose my tongue;

I only stammer,

and I speak uncertainly;

but if you touch my mouth,

my Lord,

then I will sing the story 

of your wonders!  

So many who have heard

forget to tell the story.

Here am I, my Jesus:

teach me.

From "Celtic Daily Prayer: From the Northumbria Community"     pgs 198-201