Tuesday Truth: A Prayer for Summer Stress

This summer has felt more like a whirlwind than a blissful breeze. I don’t think I’m alone in pulling the strands of hair out of my eyes only to have them fly right back a second later. Busy isn’t always better nor is it boring; from May to July the pace seemed to slow only enough for a quick breath in and out before time gave way to another round of chaos. A little like the waves after a summer storm. So, as I’m dipping into one of those deep breathing days, here’s a prayer for summer stress. 

Father, 

As I breathe in again and again, the rhythmic motion reminds me that all breath is created and given by you. Instead of being overcome by the waves, I can choose to roll up and over the top, free falling into the ocean below, trusting that you have created it all. And you hold it all with a capacity far greater than the depths I’m crashing into. 

What if instead of flailing, I close my eyes and rest my arms out by my sides, a T triumphant? Resembling the same posture of Jesus on the cross, entrusting to you my body, breath, and spirit? Humbly acknowledging that no matter how far I’ve come, you are still the point of it all? 

The truth of the matter is, Father, I know it doesn’t matter how I fall. I won’t sink without your hand to lift me toward the sunshine peeking through in turquoise hues, distorted as the light might be by the roiling sea. Because your story reminds me—and really, isn’t all of earth a scene?—that you alone can calm the raging sea. With just a word. Just the sound of your voice settles it all, still and quiet. 

Lord, let it be so in me. When the chaos rages, give me just a word. When the voices around me and inside me tell me to give up, give in, that none of it matters—may yours pierce through the clouding fog. Elijah would tell us a whisper is all it takes to defeat even our most powerful enemies, to bring us back from the brink.

A soft, gentle word winged forth on the tips of a breeze, dropped like dew into the depths of my soul. Refreshing. Reviving. May it be so in me. May I every day accept your holy invitation to come and see, to come and rest in you. 

Amen.

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