– Rhonda Grant-Jordan, Associate Pastor – Jarvis Memorial UMC
The prayer, A Blessing for When the Road is Long, was sent to me by a dear friend last summer as I transversed the maze of preparing to submit my papers, appear before the Board of Ordained Ministry, and leap over the hot coals of an upcoming disaffiliation vote. The prayer seemed to speak to my soul, and as the words slipped from my lips, they became honey, for they spoke what I felt to my God who hears.
Yet, this prayer could have been from centuries ago, as people of color lived through the atrocities of slavery, Jim Crow, and segregation. For them, the road seemed long. Today this prayer is for people of color who continue to walk the long road. Yet, we do not walk that long road alone but with those deemed “the other.” You know, “the other”; they are the poor, immigrants, and those of differing sexual orientations.
Jesus’s entire ministry destroyed walls of hostility and cultural hate bringing near those who were once estranged. As I continue to experience the sting of racism, which has been politicized, increasing the fears and apprehensions of the past and the pain of the current disaffiliation within my beloved United Methodist Church, I feel there is no juxtaposition. Both cast aside “the other,” bringing pain, alienation, and distrust.
In the name of Jesus, it is time that we set aside those things that separate us from God and each other. Dr. Martin Luther King said, “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” We cannot do this without the strength of God because the road is long for all of us, no matter who we are. We are being called to walk together in love, to carry each other’s burdens on this road “And how blessed are we who are astonished to find that God’s strength begins at the very point when ours runs out? Amen.”
A Blessing for When the Road Is Long – Kate Bowler
God, I could not have imagined
that this road could be
so long, so hard, so daunting.
Here I am, worn out – body and soul.
Blessed are we, the weary
who must set aside what we are carrying,
and begin to feel only the weight of our own being.
It is enough for now.
Let our shoulders sink from around our ears,
our breath grow longer and deeper,
taking a minute to notice the way our diaphragm rises and falls
without us telling it to.
Blessed are we who cannot go on… not like this,
but stand and look and ask:
Is there a better path?
Blessed are we, at the point of utter stillness,
that becomes an empty space for that voice to echo and build and resound
until it becomes a place to rest and receive and be made whole.
And how blessed are we who are astonished
to find that God’s strength begins at the very point
when ours runs out.
– Amen.