Prayers for Anyday Prayers for Anyday By Doug Blair Copyright Š 2012, Doug Blair Published at Smashwords ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without expressed written permission from the author/publisher. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Christmas
Praying as Snow Falls Light snow is falling And wind can be heard So silent the neighbours Not even a word And lights twinkle gaily And sway on the trees And I in my dark room Have come to my knees It’s Christmas dear Jesus The Gospel unfurled When light and forgiveness Arrived in our world And God became man For good and for ill We tell the old Story 1
To hungry hearts still How magical, really The Babe and His birth Oh stir us to share it May all see His worth.
New Year
Prayer at the New Year
Will it offer some good To the tested and hurting Will it turn a new page On the hopes of the brave Will the earth neath our feet Pass some new convolution Will the God of the meek Find more lost souls to save Will the strained cries for peace Move the hallways of power Will the young and the frail Find the help they deserve Will the mad rush for gain Slow a little for kindness Will the self-serving titans Find others to serve Will the lessons just learned Bring some wisdom to progress Will the brass ring we chase Lose its grip on the heart Will the probing of science Honour life and not twist it Will the church bells still ringing 2
Keep their hold on the heart All of this comes and more As one day trails another And the ancient with scythe Steps aside for the youth May the servant of art Cleanse the heart with fresh beauty May the God of the broken Raise more lovers of truth.
Good Friday
Fragrance of Good Friday Prayer
"Lord, I was wakened by the cardinals singing. Day off work. I also heard the roar and clatter of the neighbourhood garbage truck. Some must still work. Some might even vote today, if desired. I imagine the churches meeting in observance. The larger number of the community still wondering why things must slow down. Still wondering why something so bloody could ever be named "Good". The "good", of course is in your intentions, Father. Is in the obedient record of your Son's earth mission. May the pause be pregnant for all of us today. May the scattered messages accumulate unto your glory. The cards, the hymns, the Passion films, the message of the Passover as counter-point, the pure white of the lilies, the regal purple and gold of the Easter merchandise. I confess that I have often been too hard on the churches. Forgive me. They remain your pillar of truth; your lighthouse of rescue; your seed-bed of new family; your place of pause, praise and petition. May the messages go forth in these places today and Sunday to magnify and clarify what Jesus has done for us. May hungry hearts respond, even in some surprising places, to the call for repentance and re-focused commitment.
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You hurt so badly that day Father, as your Son was lifted up in shame, and you looked on at the called out City turned rabid. You heard Jesus' cries of anguish and you held back for the greater harvest. You bound yourself yet again by your Word. I praise you and thank you Father for this "good" day and for the freedom to reflect. Please forgive the fleeting ways of my attention and imagination; the double-mindedness; the quickness of anger and lust to self-justify. I have been raised up by nothing but your grace. Move upon your churches Lord with sovereign glory. May this be a time of refreshment for Kitchener-Waterloo. In Jesus' name, Amen." Acts 17: 27. That they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel (grope) after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us.
Easter Sunday
Mary Magdalene’s Brooding
Mary Magdalene had come to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus. It was Sunday morning. She had no idea how she was going to get the stone door opened. She had no idea how to handle her grief. She only knew that she must make the closest connection possible to the Master, for only there might she find some peace, some comfort, some idea for the future. This was the little woman out of whom Jesus had cast several demons. We do not know what they were. We cannot be certain that she had once been a woman of gross immorality. No matter, through Jesus she had heard and had believed that she was a new creature by faith.
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But the stone door is rolled away. The tomb is empty! The Master has been taken. And Mary weeps. For disappointed hope. For the cowardice of His followers. For the jealousy and envy and pride which had been shown by the fellowship right up to the end. For the hypocrisy and heartlessness of the religion of her age. For the unstoppable oppression of the contemporary powers. For the innumerable suffering ones who would now miss the comfort, hope, truth and healing of Jesus. For the pathetic alloy of elements, good and bad, in her own heart. But then a stranger appears. He states in seven words, "Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou? She briefly explains her predicament. Then she hears that familiar wonderful voice say her name, "Mary". How could she not notice? It is Jesus. Freed from the shackles of death. Coming to her side. Her response is automatic, "Rabboni" (most honoured teacher, most honoured Master). In spite of her compulsion to embrace Him, she is instructed to go and inform the brethren. Jesus is alive. He is immediately available. He is not diminished in power. He has been true to His word throughout. Let us take this scene in the Resurrection Garden and realize that it contains the seeds of all true revival in the Church and for the community.
Mother’s Day
A Son Calls
Just to hear his voice Conjured up memories Of mix and match laundry
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Potato salad under summer suns Ball games where he Biting lip grimly Popped out to shortstop Homework excused away For the non-sensical Favourite books and tales Rehearsed in chopping narrative Long beyond her usual endurance A course of study or two Catching his fancy That she embellished With provocative conversation. These flooded back As the phone call Played itself out. And she forgot The deaf resident With the storming TV His endless adventure shows Down the hall Or the woman next-door Crying frequently And balefully for Nothing apparently new Or her startling wake-ups In confusion or panic The bitter-sweet Reveries of travels, tussles Tenderness With a soul-mate Who was not.
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Just to hear his voice And he had almost forgot For another weekend.
Father’s Day
The Gentle Humourist
He was able to laugh At the little things. At the irony of our lot. At the play on words, At the twig to pride, At the frequent trials he got. He was able to laugh, And a tonic proved To his friends when faced with pain. How his joke or song Could relieve the wrong. Helping them to hope again. He was able to laugh, As the years progressed And the things of youth slipped by. When the trips and chores And the Great Outdoors Were but memories, and a sigh. He was able to laugh At the final bell, When the umpire shouted "Game!"
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Sensing paths once trod Had been mapped by God, Who had always known his name.
Thanksgiving Day
Sacrifice of Praise
I hadn’t felt like singing As things were too messed up. I hadn’t felt like giving thanks Before Communion’s cup. I hadn’t felt the blessing That often comes with praise. I hadn’t seen the sunshine In oh, so many days. The business it was faltering And bankers on the phone And payroll harder with each week. I felt so tired, alone. And here Thanksgiving Sunday. The church decked out so fine. With smiling faces all around But sure no smile on mine. And strangers showing in the mix As oft the case this day. And one new man just two rows down In pensive pause to pray. His face seemed rapt, transported As to his God he turned; But then I saw the other side So badly scarred and burned.
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A voice inside now plucked my heart, ‘You think you have it rough. You see that man, how suffering’s toll Brings out the finer stuff. And he is giving…giving Son The thanks that blessed me best As you might too, in what you do In passing through your test.’
Remembrance Day
Down to Business in the Trenches
God, I’m not very good at this. I wakened early to the sound of one lark. Imagine…singing in this ghastly place. Sergeant said that this morning we would move out. Comes as a relief after three weeks in this muck and rain and monotony. Some sort of artillery fire will pulverize the field before us for a good two thousand yards. “Jerry” will be given quite a shock. Eight A.M. departure, regardless. Hope that the French boys to the rear get the timing right with their firepower. Hate to be walking under that kind of downpour. I worry about Freddy. Gone last night with two more on recon. Should have been back two hours ago. He had volunteered. Always the optimist. Always the believer. Frequently pulling that little Testament of his and throwing up a prayer request or thanksgiving. Imagine, thanksgiving out here, in this. He had also come from around Brandon, but I had never met him ’til the ship. Something clicked between us. He would just laugh when the boys 9
called him “Parson Fred”. I worry about him, God. Please be his Protector right now. I worry for all our sakes. Our few things packed. Ammo ready. Chaplain will probably say his piece in another forty minutes. God, I hope I am doing this right. Help us. Go before us. Do I dare say this at all when the Huns ahead are your children too? Can’t this all just be over? I know you are there. Hear my prayer…Father, save me. In Jesus’ name. Amen. See our Ebook All Sorts of Battles http://issuu.com/dewane/docs/all_sorts_of_battles? mode=window&pageNumber=1
Tough Day
The Closet
Again to be here When none other might care. Be the motive of fear Or of gratitude rare. I will run to this space Just to unload my heart; Yes a quieter place Set a little apart. And You come through the gray In the brilliance of love And You settle the day
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With Your calm from above. And You hear, I am sure Every plea, every verse. A compassion so pure Will consider my worst, And will answer again Lest I misunderstand; Neither mishap nor men Will remove from Thy Hand. Father, this is the spot Where I grow on my knees; See what mercy has wrought; Feel the Spirit’s fresh breeze.
Day of Rejoicing
Babe’s Skin
All I could do When others departed Stop and consider What just had been done Look at my skin Once ravaged and pitted Look at my fingers (I’d lost more than one) “Leper” they called me And fled from my presence “Leper” the stigma Of sad weeping shell Lonely the life Deemed God’s hot displeasure 11
Friendless and homeless My own private hell Jesus had seen us All ten in our sad plight Sent to the priests To declare all things healed Cleansed just like babes From a dreadful contagion Nine still in darkness To one Grace revealed How could I not thank The calm Galilean Sharing a kindness That opened my soul Joyful in transport I cling to His next words: “Happy for you friend Now every whit whole.”
Day to Help
Compassion’s Target
I am down With the doubting and dirty. I am here With the broken and pained. I am still Bearing hope to the hopeless. That the loss Will be more than re-gained.
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For I bring Not my own faltering mercy. Since I know It alone won’t suffice. But I come With the heart of the Saviour. Friend, I come In the power of Christ. I have prayed For the right kind of comfort. I have bound All the naggings of Hell. Jesus, come, You know all this friend’s burden. Saviour, come, You do everything well.
Day to Intercede
Praying for a Soul in Peril
Father, I pray for this dear man. He sees no need for your great plan. He little cares about our Jesus; Lives his life just as he pleases. Nothing shakes his self-reliance, Though it is but God-defiance.. When I try to share the Gospel, He just thinks it quite impossible, That a life without gross scandal 13
Will be lost without Christ’s mantle. In his business, he is honest. In his family he is so blessed. How can this fine civic hero Be convinced that he scores zero On your scale of righteous worth? Will you interrupt his mirth? Will you show his blackened heart? Will you pull his pride apart? Sad to say, he does partake Of a church you didn’t make. One which states that all find Heaven. One admitting worldly leaven. One where new birth truth is missing. One which makes the Cross a trite thing. Please, dear Lord, assign your Spirit; Show him Hell, and make him fear it. Show him how in Adam’s fall, Sin crept into one and all. Sin, which exalts selfish purpose, Sin, which renders good deeds worthless. I believe that by your Spirit You will make his conscience hear it. Interrupt his treadmill days. Show him scripture, power, praise! Plant a hunger, Lord, for your best. Over-rule his vain success quest. He is frightened to examine The extent of his faith’s famine. He distrusts what still confounds him. Show him how your love surrounds him. How your dear Son’s blood sufficed. How to find his life in Christ. Precious Father, I can say naught, 14
How his pardon must be blood-bought. He suspects my motives are wrong; So I pray to see him made strong. On my knees, I plead his case. Humble him, and show him grace.
Salvation’s Day
Relinquish Now
“Not too far” And this should give you courage. Feel the pull Of Jesus at your heart. You have come Right to the brink of blessing. Timeless truth He readies to impart. May be late But time is not the issue. Do not rue The sand passed through the glass. Heed the call To simple heart surrender. Now’s the hour To seize the hope that lasts. But beware For risk is now the greatest. Satan schemes To pluck you from the door. All his tricks Applied to see you stumble. 15
Fears and lusts You never felt before. Just press on Despairing of your own strength. Christ must work To bring you gladly through. His the power To break the ties that hinder. His the life Of righteousness for you.
Day of Healing
Faith Under a Big Tent, 1972
It’s tonight folks And you have been well primed. The praise of the saints Fills this tent. The man of God has been Deep in prayer all afternoon With some of your pastors. The needs out there Are imposing, The expectation‌electric. And Jesus knows, He knows your deepest need, And as many as touch Him Get their answer. Have you touched Him? Have you felt
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The pull of His Spirit In the songs? Have you smiled At gleeful looks Of excitement On faces of your neighbours? Have you waited long In faith’s craning pause? Well get ready: Some are gonna walk Outa here on new legs. Some are gonna see That loved one for the first time. Some are gonna sense Tumours shift and dissolve. Some are gonna kick The needle or the flask. Or the back-alley’s business. But don’t look unto This speaker, Heavens NO. Look unto the Master. Touch Him. See what a prayer of faith can do. And your life has been Such a prayer…for years. Now’s the time. And if you have committed Any sins, They may be forgiven you. (James 5:15) In the name of the Crucified One. Who is alive now. And for evermore. Come Lord Jesus. Work your work For these dear people. It is all of your mercy. We come like the leper Wanting to be made clean And whole. 17
And all the people said: AMEN.
Note: 1972. Why not now?
Judgment Day
Dreaming of the End
I had a dream Standing in a room Nothing extraordinary But many doors Many windows All with deadbolts. There was an urging “Pay attention, now. All these are going to Shut, close, lock In an eye’s twinkling. Can’t you feel it? Have I not always spoken truth?” I stood in one place Breathless Knowing that it was true Knowing that it was coming. And surenuff They all went off Bang, snap, click. I was elated.
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Of course He was right! And then another whisper, “Just so, Doug, Shall be the Coming of my Son. Tell them While things remain open. Tell them.� (Mark 13: 35, 36)
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