Pandemic Prayers

God of qui­et moments and holy rest, we lay our fear and anx­i­ety at your feet. Help us to find com­fort in your peace, and rest in these strange and chal­leng­ing times. Help us to feel your pres­ence here with us. May we hold on to our sense of com­mu­ni­ty in the chaos so that we might fos­ter rela­tion­ships built on trust and not fear, even from afar. Let us extend grace and bless­ing to our­selves, our neigh­bors, and espe­cial­ly to the most vul­ner­a­ble among us. In the name of the one who walks beside us we pray, Amen.

God of hope, you make a way where there isn’t one. Help us to find joy in our new real­i­ty — in the morn­ing sun stream­ing through our win­dows, in the rain that turns dead grass green and lush, in the qui­et moments of slow liv­ing that this time requires of us. Remind us that there is joy to be found even here, even now. May we lose our­selves in the every­day ecstasies of life even as we look toward a future of renewed whole­ness, for ours is a res­ur­rec­tion hope. In the name of the one who was and is and is to come we pray, Amen.

Holy wan­der­er, each day you are with us as we tread into the unknown. In this sea­son of lent, your jour­ney has become our own. As we move toward the peak of infec­tion, the moment of great­est loss, remind us that you have already over­come death. The grief of Fri­day is upon us, O God, help us remem­ber that Sun­day is com­ing so that we might work with renewed ener­gy for restora­tion here and now. May the palms we lay this Sun­day be at the feet of the health­care work­ers, the gro­cery clerks, and the deliv­ery peo­ple who risk them­selves so that we might be cared for and fed, for they are sure­ly your hands and feet, your hope in our sick and fear­ful world. In the name of love tri­umphant we pray, Amen.

Cre­ator God, bringer of sun­light and keep­er of the stars, we lean upon your stead­fast pres­ence today. Help us to offer one anoth­er com­pas­sion when the frus­tra­tion and anx­i­ety of social dis­tanc­ing becomes over­whelm­ing. As the days and weeks of this pan­dem­ic pass with no end in sight remind us that you have already made all things new. May we await the day we emerge once more into our com­mu­ni­ties with a sense of advent hope, con­fi­dent that the seeds of patience we nur­ture today will bloom in a health­i­er world. In the name of the one who heals us and sets us free we pray, Amen.

God of begin­nings and God of end­ings, as this spring sea­son of our schol­ar­ly life togeth­er approach­es it’s con­clu­sion, remind us that this is a good­bye for now and not for­ev­er. Help us look toward the future with hope for new oppor­tu­ni­ties and to step into the unknown with the con­fi­dence that we will always have a place here in the for­est. May we bear the seeds of a bet­ter world with us as we go. In the name of the one who meets us where we are and jour­neys with us as we go, we pray. Amen.

God of the dream­ers, who makes a way where there seems to be none, help us to build a bet­ter world so that we might expe­ri­ence your kin-dom made real in our com­mu­ni­ties. May our dreams be wor­thy and our inten­tions true: to love our neigh­bors, wel­come the stranger, and care for all of your good cre­ation. Through the one who is love and life, we pray, Amen.

Redeem­ing God, lover of mer­cy, shep­herd of the bro­ken­heart­ed, we cry out to you today in pain, long­ing for jus­tice. When the vio­lence of the past and the vio­lence of the present seem to swal­low us whole, help us to find the courage to stand for what is right — for the safe­ty, health, and whole­ness of each and every one of your chil­dren. Today we remem­ber espe­cial­ly the six young peo­ple who lost their lives 57 years ago in the bomb­ing of the 16th Street Bap­tist Church of Birm­ing­ham, Alaba­ma and the shoot­ings in its after­math: Addie Mae Collins, Cyn­thia Wes­ley, Car­ole Robert­son, Car­ol Denise McNair, Vir­gil Ware, and John­nie Robin­son. We remem­ber them even as we stand in protest of the mur­ders of George Floyd, Bre­on­na Tay­lor, and so many oth­ers for whom jus­tice has not yet been found. May we be peo­ple of jus­tice and joy, embold­ened for the work of anti-racism and the dis­man­tling of sys­temic injus­tice, for it is the work of us all. In the name of for­giv­ing one, the one who restores all to abun­dant life, we pray, Amen.

Ever­last­ing God, in whom we find a refuge from tur­moil, be with us today in our grief and anger. These past months have weighed heav­i­ly on us as we watched the death toll climb. Sur­round the fam­i­lies and friends of the more than 200,000 peo­ple tak­en from us by COVID-19 with com­fort and love. Imbue us with hope for the fight ahead, strength­en us in the wake of the death of Jus­tice Ruth Bad­er Gins­berg who for so many was a bea­con of right­eous­ness in this sea of despair. May her mem­o­ry be a bless­ing. May we walk in her foot­steps and pur­sue jus­tice for the women whose bod­ies were altered with­out their per­mis­sion in ICE deten­tion camps. May we mourn with them and stand with them against regimes that strip peo­ple of their auton­o­my and human­i­ty. Embold­en us for the work ahead so that your kin-dom might yet come — even here, even now. In the name of the heal­ing one we pray, Amen.

God of breath and silence, whose words whis­per through our hearts like wind rustling autumn leaves, stir up the dead, dry, and bro­ken parts of us so that we may come alive once more to the won­ders of your cre­ation. Though we so often for­get to lis­ten, remind us that even the rocks cry out in your name. May we cre­ate space enough in our day to lis­ten for your still small voice. In the name of one who cre­ates, redeems, and sus­tains us, Amen.

Mighty and pow­er­ful God, who heals bro­ken hearts and restores our very being, we ask that you lend us your strength today. We are weary of the hate­ful talk and fear-dri­ven actions that have engulfed us this year. We are weary of death, heartache, and grief. Enliv­en us for the ongo­ing work of jus­tice. Embold­en us to con­tin­ue to speak truth to pow­er in your name, even though we are exhaust­ed. May we find rest in you. In the one who pro­vides per­fect peace we pray, Amen.

Mer­ci­ful God, who knows our inner­most fears and desires, be with those who wait today. Bring com­fort to those who wait in grief, ener­gy to those who antic­i­pate the future with hope, and mind­ful­ness of the present to those who only know how to look ahead. May we find peace in being present to the peo­ple and places we encounter today for we know that you are in the midst of each and every moment. In the name of our holy com­pan­ion we pray, Amen.

Lov­ing God, today dawned with over­whelm­ing anx­i­ety and fear for so many. Pan­dem­ic cas­es are on the rise and it feels like the future of the U.S. hangs in the bal­ance. We ask for patience as all the votes are count­ed, wis­dom for those over­see­ing the ongo­ing elec­tion process, and com­pas­sion for our­selves and our neigh­bors today. Even when the results are in, O God, help us to remem­ber that the fight for jus­tice is not over. It begins anew every morn­ing until that day when you come to make all things new. May your kin-dom come — even here, even now. May we help make it so. In the name of mer­cy we pray, Amen.

Holy Wan­der­er, you make a way where it seems like there isn’t one. Guide our steps as we con­tin­ue to fight this pan­dem­ic. Give us courage and strength to per­se­vere in the face of ris­ing case counts. May we always seek to pro­tect our neigh­bors, to love the strangers in our midst, and to care for the lone­ly. Even though we can­not phys­i­cal­ly be togeth­er, we know that your spir­it weaves bonds of love among our com­mu­ni­ty that can­not be bro­ken by space or time. Help us to be an encour­age­ment to one anoth­er as the days get short­er and cold­er. In the name of Love we pray, Amen.

God of the ages, faith­ful cre­ator and mer­ci­ful redeemer, we give thanks today for our fam­i­lies — the peo­ple who love us and keep us — and with whom we feel more alive and less lone­ly. As the end of a dif­fi­cult year approach­es may we find joy in the lit­tle things, rest in the long nights, and demon­strate love through our con­tin­ued mask-wear­ing and social dis­tanc­ing. As we reflect on this year and look for­ward to the day when we can be togeth­er safe­ly once more, may we remem­ber the glim­mers of hope and good­will, the sto­ries of care in a year of pain. May we grieve with the bro­ken­heart­ed and rejoice with the joy­ful for we know that in all cir­cum­stances you are there too. In the name of unend­ing grace, we pray. Amen.

God we give you thanks for the gift of friend­ship, for time spent togeth­er even across dis­tance, and the mir­a­cle of laugh­ter. We give thanks for those who con­tin­ue to fight for the lives of all peo­ple, work­ing on the front lines of this pan­dem­ic. Give us the strength and courage to stay the course and do what we must to pro­tect our friends and neigh­bors from the virus. In the name of the one who loves us and sets us free, we pray. Amen.

Holy One, who makes all things new, we give you thanks for all of the ways that you are invit­ing us into new­ness today. Today begins a new semes­ter and a new pres­i­den­cy — this is a day filled to the brim with poten­tial and shroud­ed in hope. Renew our spir­its for the hard work of heal­ing. May we have com­pas­sion for our­selves and our neigh­bors. May we be bold in our hope, com­pelled toward jus­tice, and dili­gent in our search for equi­ty. May we enter this new sea­son of learn­ing ready to be chal­lenged, cared for, and encour­aged to grow. In the name of the way-mak­er, we pray. Amen.

Sacred Mys­tery, in whom all that lives finds it’s being, we give thanks for anoth­er sun­rise, anoth­er day filled with oppor­tu­ni­ty. Though the days are short and cold, may we find warmth of heart and strength of spir­it in the shared work of this com­mu­ni­ty. Shape us into agents of hope and com­pas­sion, so that we may con­tin­ue to build a world we can be proud of. Tonight we pray espe­cial­ly for miss­ing Drew stu­dent Ajay Sah. Be with those who are search­ing for him, give them clar­i­ty of mind and pur­pose. Sur­round Ajay’s friends and fam­i­ly with love and com­pas­sion. Look upon us with mer­cy, O God. Hear our prayers. All this we pray in the name of the one who is love eter­nal, Amen.

God of the Cos­mos, who keeps the stars aloft and the plan­ets spin­ning, hold us in your ten­der embrace today. We give thanks for the warmth of our homes and our hearts in this sea­son marked by so many uncer­tain­ties. Give us the strength to con­tin­ue to love our neigh­bors by wear­ing masks and social dis­tanc­ing. May we find oppor­tu­ni­ties to con­nect with each oth­er in ways that nour­ish our soul. God, we cel­e­brate the vac­cine dis­tri­b­u­tion efforts already under­way. May these efforts only increase so that the most vul­ner­a­ble among us may receive the pro­tec­tion they so des­per­ate­ly need. We look for­ward with hope to the day that we are all vac­ci­nat­ed and can safe­ly embrace one anoth­er once more. In the name one who heals all things, we pray. Amen.

Holy mys­tery, who breathed and spoke and danced the uni­verse into being, remind us today of our con­nec­tion to the earth. As we roll ash­es between our fin­gers and smear them across our fore­heads and hands, remind us that we are of the dust and to this dust we shall return. As our lenten jour­ney begins once more, help us find space to reflect on the brevi­ty of our lives, to seek repen­tance for our indi­vid­ual and com­mu­nal fail­ures, and to find ways to hon­or your pres­ence in the liv­ing beings with whom we share this world. We await the com­ing of the full­ness of your kin-dom and while we wait we work, we reflect, and we hope. In the name of the cre­ator, redeemer, and sus­tain­er, we pray. Amen. 

God of the wan­der­ers, who dwelt with the Israelites in pil­lars of fire and cloud and who dwells with­in each one of us, encour­age us to lean into your good­ness and mer­cy as we enter this Lenten sea­son. Help us to learn from our mis­takes and to encounter our fel­low humans with com­pas­sion and care. As the snow begins to melt and the days grow longer, we look for­ward to the signs of spring and new life that are sure­ly com­ing soon. Even as we con­tin­ue to mourn the more than 500,000 lives lost to the Covid-19 pan­dem­ic and to remem­ber the life of recent alum Min­is­ter Cyn­thia D. Pullen, we look for­ward to your com­ing in glo­ry. Ours is a res­ur­rec­tion hope, O God, for we know that noth­ing in life or in death can sep­a­rate us from your love. In the name of the one who dries every tear, we pray. Amen.

God of the wilder­ness, sus­tain­er of the lost, lone­ly, and bro­ken­heart­ed, be with us in the qui­et of evening. When the busy­ness of the day has set­tled down and we are left alone with our thoughts and grief, make your pres­ence known to us. We have spent a year sit­ting at the foot of the cross, star­ing into a world of death and pain. As we remem­ber and con­tem­plate our own mor­tal­i­ty in this sea­son, help us to lean into the hope of res­ur­rec­tion. Though we are still phys­i­cal­ly apart, help us to find ways to walk this Lenten jour­ney hand in hand. May we find rest in your com­fort­ing embrace and hope in the knowl­edge that a new day is com­ing, and with it, new life. In the name of the risen one, we pray. Amen.