A Prayer for our Nation on Nov. 3, 2008

Here we are on the eve of a national election and I hear voices all around shouting for change, but I am deeply troubled because it is plain to me that the change we most desperately need cannot merely come from a change in national leadership. The change we need must come within our human hearts—it is an awareness of our brokenness as a people and repentance for the mountain of sin that we have committed. We’re like a large unruly, dysfunctional family in which the parental units are constantly vying for custodial rights. Electing a new president is like bringing another stepparent into the mix, but what can he truly do in the midst of this mess we’ve created? Rather than despair, I’m purposing to do what many other people through the ages have done when they were grieved over the state of their nations. I am confessing our sin as a nation and repenting before the living God.

Father God and Creator of the universe, I come to you on behalf of my nation, the United States of America. Father, we are a people that you have created and we live on an earth that you have created, but we have sinned against you. We have failed to give you the worship and honor that is due you as our Creator. (Romans 1) Father I repent of our failure as a nation to acknowledge you as our Creator and to give you the worship you deserve. I repent of our failure to properly care for this world you have given us to enjoy. Instead we have abused it and wasted its wealth of resources.

Father, instead of worshiping you we have turned to idolatry and lust in an effort of fill the void in us, which can only be properly filled by you. Our sexual appetites have become distorted which has lead to all kinds of deviant behavior and abuses. As a result we are creating human lives that we neither love nor want. We add to our sins by killing these human lives or abusing them. Father, forgive us for distorting and corrupting the gift of sexuality you have given us and for our violence against human life.

Father we are guilty of the sins of greed and gluttony. We have an insatiable appetite. We eat more than we need while others in the world starve. We fill our landfills with stuff and then run off to the buy more of the same. Father forgive us for consuming more than me need, both of food and of things. Forgive us for the greed and corruption in our corporations. Forgive us for exploiting the poor and for withholding love from the foreigner.

Father we are an arrogant nation. In pride we have looked down on other peoples of the world—other children of yours that you have created. Forgive us for our pride and arrogance.
Father, our list of sins is so long that I grow weary of naming them. Our sins are an enormous mountain before us, and the stench of them rises to your nostrils. Father, forgive us. I appeal to you as Habbakuk did, " In your wrath, remember mercy."

Father, you have promised "if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land." II Chron. 7:14

I know that we have a Savior and Intercessor Jesus Christ who has paid for this mountain of sin by his own blood and who now is seated at your right hand interceding for us. So Father, instead of punishing us as our sins deserve, will you please hear from heaven, forgive our sin and heal our nation?

In Jesus’ Name, Amen

Hymning and Hawing

Tuesday, July 31 4:45
I receive a call from Leon. "Hi, I’m going to be late. A kid in a pick-up just pulled out right in front of me on Hwy 13. I braked, but I couldn’t keep from hitting him. I think I’m OK, but the Nissan is probably totaled."

Wed, Aug 1 6:58 p.m.

We receive a call from my mother about the 35W bridge. Leon flips on the TV. We stare, dumbfounded at the images of twisted girders, broken concrete slabs, vehicles scattered at odd angels, fire and smoke.
"Where is that?" I ask again, despite the fact that the information is printed right on the screen.
"It’s the 35W bridge!" Leon exclaims.
My brain tries to catch up with reality. This is our bridge—the one we drive on regularly—the one Leon just drove on at 2:00 p.m. today—coming home from work early for a doctors appointment due the accident the day before. It’s our bridge—and it’s gone—into the river!

Wednesday, August 22
I’m watching another newscast filled with images of flood waters and people sweeping mud out of their homes.
"Everything we’ve worked for, for the past six years, we just threw in the dumpster," says a woman with an edge of frustration and despair in her voice as she surveys the soggy mess of the home she and her husband just bought.

* * *

In the past few weeks I’ve had old hymns running through my mind—those ones I heard as a child, lying under a pew in the Crosby, A/G Tabernacle. Some of those old hymns seemed rather abstract to my childish mind, but the older folks always sang them with such conviction.
"In times like these, you need a Savior. In times like these, you need an anchor. Be very sure, be very sure, your anchor holds and grips the solid rock!"
"On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand!"
It’s funny how hymns are becoming very poignant to me these days. Maybe I’m finally grown up.

* * *

Our house has been on the market for 4 months. I’m growing very weary of the repetitious cleanings. We were hoping to be moving to Indiana by now. We pull in the driveway, back from a family reunion in Green Bay and see a "for sale" sign by the house across the street that was foreclosed upon several months ago. Checking the list price we see it’s priced $15,000 below ours. Our price is already well below the assessed value. Another hymn plays through my mind.
"Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blessed, finding as He promised, perfect peace and rest."

* * *

Natalia is starting to talk in phrases. Her favorites are, "Why Mom?" "Why Dad?" and when a train or loud truck goes by, she cries, "I’m scared!"
I guess Talia is feeling the vulnerability of being a little person in a big, scary world. Aren’t we all? When Talia is afraid, I gather her up in my arms and say, "It’s OK, mommy is here."
What I’m really thinking is, "I’m scared too, but…. In times like these we have an anchor… and it grips the solid Rock."