December 3, 2024
Rev. Dr. Garrett J. Andrew

I wrote this yesterday just wondering about life, Advent, and the One who is:

Today, I wonder: What would it mean to see myself not as a cog in some great machine to run the economy or the society, but as a thread in the eternal tapestry infinitely greater? Yet neither to see myself a saint in stained glass, but a struggling, striving voice in the communion of hope, woven into the endless song of grace?

Maybe it’s Advent and after my sermon I can’t help myself on my day off. Maybe this is Sabbath for all I know. Maybe the journey of faith, the communion of saints, the awareness that the One whom I seek is seeking me, and the voice of doubt within me that doubts myself are all playing with me.

Maybe I just had to write this prayer:

O Voice that whispers in the stillness,
too often drowned by the roar within me—
the roar of not enough,
of unworthy,
of unseen,
meet me in the silence I am too afraid to enter.

You promise,
not because I deserve,
but because you desire,
and in your desire,
I am made whole.

Help me wait today, not idly,
but with the active wonder of a child
reaching out for a gift
they cannot yet see but trust is coming.

Grant me the wonder to witness
the mundane be holy,
the terrible hold beauty,
and the brokenness in me
be the vessel for love
I do not yet know I carry.

O unseen saints,
you who urge me to press forward
even when I falter,
when my doubt feels more real than my faith,
and my steps falter in the shadow of fear.
Your whispers are not commands but companionship,
not burdens but reminders—
that I am never alone on this road.

O Holy One,
you are the voice at the edge of my thoughts,
the One knocking, softly and patiently,
not to demand but to invite, not to shame but to awaken
to the love waiting to be noticed.
You call me to rise,
not because I am perfect,
but because your love will never let me be lost.

Teach me to trust the promise I cannot see,
to rest in the grace I cannot earn.
Help me to hear in your knock
the sound of home calling me,
the place where I belong,
even now, even here,
knowing that what lies beyond is
not judgment but joy,
not exile but belonging.

Yes we are all just walking each other home,
through the long nights and uncertain dawns,
while you—the One we seek—
seek us still,
and lead us ever closer to yourself