(Written after the public examination of Judge Kavanaugh)

God of Jonah,

 and God of Nineveh.

God of plants that shelter,

    and God of worms that destroy.

God of all that is,

    that was,

       that should be and isn’t.

God of all we come to you,

     weary from a week that has been too long,

   weary from a history too riddled with wickedness,

      weary and wondering,

   if your grace is enough. 

Is your grace enough, God,

   for those so long silenced?

The ones who hurt with words that sound like truth,

     words that could be theirs,

   had they not been locked inside for so long?

Is your grace enough,

    for those who speak with trepidation, 

   for those who risk name and body and home,

      not even for themselves,

   but for the making of a new way for those who follow?

Is your grace enough, God,

   for systems entrenched in our wrong-doing,

 processes mangled by powers unrelenting to reform?

Weary and wondering,

   God we come,

     for assurance that your grace is enough.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Is your grace enough, God?

Is it enough for those who fear a future

    less predictable than their past,

   those who wish and work for days long gone?

Is your grace enough,

   for those our justice keeps us from loving,

  for the accuser, and the accused?

Is it enough to fill in the gaps between left and right,

    red and blue?

It is enough to seep through testimony,

    and reconcile the things we cannot,

     love the ones we cannot?

Is your grace enough, God,

   to open us to possibilities we can’t see,

  to break the hard parts of our breaking hearts,

      to drive us in from our desert booths?

Is your grace enough to hold us, God,

    while we writhe in offense for the 

         recklessness of your redemption?

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

       

But oh God, what if your grace is enough?

Enough for the Ninevehites,

    more than enough for a repenting king, shared with animals, too?

What if your grace is enough for us, 

      but not just us?

Holy God, when the greatness of your grace 

      is offensively vast to our sense of justice,

   won’t you shower even more on us, too?

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

So redeeming, offending God,

    hold us tightly, 

   while the world makes us toss and turn.

Pull us back from our desert booths,

      and keep us speaking, keep us working, keep us hoping,

   don’t let us hide from what is hard.

Tell us again,

    of your love that is greater than our imagination.

Tell us again, 

       of your good, good news,

    and equip us to be builders, not destroyers,

        of the kingdom you imagine.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

And so in our weariness and our wondering,

      we lift our voices in unison, 

   not because we know how to be one in this day,

   but because we trust that in your abundance of grace, 

you can make of us what you need for this, and every day.

So we pray together as you taught us, Our Father…