Author: katyandtheword

Pastor Katy has enjoyed ministry at New Covenant since 2010, where the church has solidified its community focus. She now works at Capital CFO plus as the Non Profit Director. All opinions expressed on this blog are her own and do not reflect those of Capital CFO plus. Prior to that she studied both Theology and Christian Formation at Princeton Theological Seminary. She also served as an Assistant Chaplain at Trenton Psychiatric Hospital and as the Christian Educational Coordinator at Bethany Presbyterian at Bloomfield, NJ. She is an writer and is published in Enfleshed, Sermonsuite, Presbyterian's today and Outlook. She writes prayers, liturgy, poems and public theology and is pursuing her doctorate in ministry in Creative Write and Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. She enjoys working within and connecting to the community, is known to laugh a lot during service, and tells as many stories as possible. Pastor Katy loves reading Science Fiction and Fantasy, theater, arts and crafts, music, playing with children and sunshine, and continues to try to be as (w)holistically Christian as possible. "Publisher after publisher turned down A Wrinkle in Time," L'Engle wrote, "because it deals overtly with the problem of evil, and it was too difficult for children, and was it a children's or an adult's book, anyhow?" The next year it won the prestigious John Newbery Medal. Tolkien states in the foreword to The Lord of the Rings that he disliked allegories and that the story was not one.[66] Instead he preferred what he termed "applicability", the freedom of the reader to interpret the work in the light of his or her own life and times.

Broken for you: Maundy Thursday Prayer

Heavenly God

I know the story. After they had supped with one another—Jesus took bread & blessed it & broke it. He did so saying this is my body broken for you.

And when the Coronavirus was coming—we went to the grocery stores and the stores that sold toilet paper. And we called our far way family, our everyday colleagues and our close friends and sent heartfelt blessings to one another, and then we said to each each other I will broken for you.

And then, Lord, as Jesus washed the feet of the disciples he told them to love one another—passing on the gift that Mary Magdalene gave him, he knelt in front of each and every one of them to cleanse the dirt off their feet.

We too are washing in service–washing the germs from our hands when we enter a building, washing the germs for ourselves when we exit. Let each washing be a blessings. A spillover of your love. A symbol of the cup spilling over and filling our souls. Washing people from our presence, standing at least six feet from one another out of love. Bless this washing we pray.

Feel free to use/adapt with credit to Pastor Katy Stenta

Essential Workers at the Cross

Who was essential at the cross?

Not Peter or John, Matthew or Mark.

Simon was essential: when Jesus could no longer carry the cross, Simon, a common laborer, with the strength to do the manual labor, the construction, the carrying of an essential item to where it needed to be. Simon was essential.

So were the two criminals who hung by the cross. Worthless and killed for being heretics, these two were essential for having the existential and theological conversation about who was saved and who wasn’t, and when was it too late to be saved.

The Centurion, and the common prison guards, were essential, they were the first to realize Jesus was the Son of God after he died. These workers in prison were essential.

Joseph of Arimathea, was essential. He gave up his own burial place, and risked his own death by the officials, boldly asking Pilate for the body, revealing what he believed and why. Then Joseph and Nicodemus polluted themselves–wrapping the dead body with their own hands, and using Nicodemus own mixed spices to move Jesus to the tomb. These men who put down politics to work with the dead were essential.

The women were essential. The women were sent, because they were thought to be harmless. Women prepared Jesus for the tomb with the wrappings and the spices to hide the bad smell. They entered the grave, where the guards watched–socially distant–to make certain no mischief was done. Women were the worthless but essential workers of the day.

Who was essential at the cross? Who did the work that needed to done? Who carried, cleaned, buried, wept, wrapped and worshipped?

Help us to pray and remember and rejoice in all of the essential workers we pray. Amen.

Pandemic Prayers

Good Friday: Denial and Grace in Crises

Before this night is over Peter, you will deny me three times,

In fact each and every one of you will deny me before the end.

Not me Lord, I would never deny you.

The absolute horror of what was going to happen could not be fathomed by the disciples. It was too a deep a hole for them to see. Death, betrayal, denial and damnation were unthinkable. After all they had faith, and they had Jesus. What else would they need?

Denial is very human. It’s how we handle some of the world, it’s one way to fend off PTSD.

What are you in denial about right now? Here, in the middle of a pandemic, what is too much for you to take in?

Remember that even the disciples had trouble processing it all. Remember that only Christ and God can hold the enormity of the tragedy that is taking place. And Jesus requested the presence of these fumbling disciples in Gethsemane to pray. And after they messed up not once, not twice, but three times, but Jesus did not send them away.

We will not be sent away, and our presence is necessary.

Give yourself the grace you need to pray, be in denial and present in whatever strange combination exists within your soul, and remember you do in good company.

More Pandemic Prayers and Resources

Holy Saturday

Why is it called Holy Saturday?

I know many people pass the time on Holy Saturday by holding a vigil and reading through scripture.

But the truth is, when the disciples where waiting on Saturday, they were doing nothing. Holed up in their house they were hiding from the Empire.

They were awaiting their own death. Probably wondering out loud why Jesus had to die, wondering why he had to die a heretic, laid upon a cross that meant your were destined for hell.

It was a room that smelled of fear and death. It was a place where the disciples took cold comfort with one another, no doubt trying to ignore Peter’s pleas that he didn’t meant to deny Jesus. No doubt wondering if they were supposed to steal the body.

Women were sent. They were thought to be harmless. Women prepared Jesus for the tomb with the wrappings and the spices to hide the bad smell. They moved him to the cavern in the garden, where the guards watched to make certain no mischief was done. They were the worthless, but essential workers of the day.

We are in a sort of Holy Saturday ourselves, waiting for the word for the all clear. Hearing stories of who has died, and the suffering they have undergone.

We are experiencing the interminable wait, the timeframe is unknown, the hope is thin, and the loneliness is impenetrable.

Families are worried and separated from one another. And the world is slowly falling apart. And the world is a dark and scary place.

We can see the cornerstones of our lives being deconstructed. The things we depend upon are changing: the routines are gone, the securities are unreliable: school, work, church are crumbling.

Holy Saturday is what happens under the waters of baptism, I wonder if that’s what happens when you say goodbye to a loved one who has died who you can no longer see on earth. I wonder if Holy Saturday is where we are as we wait for the second coming of Christ.

Holy Saturday is the gap in scripture, undefined by the stories, left wide open in the yawning space of time.

Holy Saturday is now. The time between sickness and the cure. It’s the time before the temple is rebuilt. It’s the time when the cracks in society are splitting apart. It’s the time when the gaps are made clear, for when the rebuilding needs to happen.

And we await the healing, sabbath, wholeness of Easter and the time we can be together.

Somehow, this dark waiting time can be Holy too.

More Pandemic Prayers

Presence over Perfection

Lord God,

Remember me? I was the one who realized at the tender age of 3 that I would never be perfect.

Then at 5 I proclaimed I didn’t want to be perfect anymore, I just didn’t want to make any more mistakes

At 8 or 9 I decided it was ok to make mistakes, as long as I don’t make the same ones over and over again.

In seminary, I really understood that knowing what my faults are is not the same as being able to fix them (having been well aware of my faults for years at that point)

Here I am, thrust in the middle of crises and I am valuing presence over perfection.

I am sending out videos and virtual worships and trying not to review what went wrong.

I’m trying to let go of the fact I prayed the Lord’s Prayer Incorrectly last week.

I’m trying not to worry that I left someone off the contact list completely, and didn’t call her when I first called everyone else.

I’m trying to not clench my teeth every time I remember that somehow I thought ahead and wrote Ether instead of Rubina on someone’s sent envelope.

Let’s not talk about the zoom prayer that really never came together.

And Homeschooling is more for sanity’s sake than the illusion my children will actually learn anything new.

I’m making the videos, I’m throwing together the worships, the prayers, the phonecalls.

I’m appreciating the fact that my 8 year old son wanted to help me to very sloppily put labels on the Easter Cards, I’m trying to appreciate that for the first time ever I’m sending out Easter cards.

I’m finding special things for my kiddos to do.

I’m trying to remember the ways I am praying for family, colleagues and facebook friends. I’m trying to appreciate every essential person who is still working onsite right now.

And my family did get to have a “Zoom Dinner.”

I’m finding scattered time for you, God, in the midst of pulling my hair out.

I’m imagining Mary and Martha, standing tear-stained by the tomb. I’m remembering that when they saw you (tending the garden of course), they couldn’t even recognize you.

I’m remembering the same thing happened on the way to Emmaus, where the disciples even got to talk to you and didn’t realize you were Christ.

But in both instances, the meeting wasn’t about perfection, it was about presence.

The time they spent with you, the time you spent with them.

Easter was all about showing up!

So as I cobble together Holy Week, as I know that there will be no flowers, no choir & no little children running about sharing their joy. Help me to find Presence, I pray.

Remind me today and every day, O Lord: Presence Over Perfection.

Breathe in the Presence, Breathe out the Perfection,

Amen.

More Pandemic Prayers

God of Sleep

God of Sleep,

who causes us lay in green pastures,

who knows when I lay down and when I get up.

Sleep is such a luxury.

For some of us it has become elusive

hiding behind anxieties and intrusive thoughts, we can’t snatch any slumber

Our eyes become gritty, the words “I have to sleep now” echo in our head,

but rest seems an impossibility.

For some of us, sleep sucks us in, stealing our existence.

We lie in bed for hours–depressed and feeling like there’s not reason to get up.

We tell ourselves to get up, call ourselves by our full names, and still we are stuck.

God of Sleep–we are emotionally wrung out. Completely exhausted from the toll of this crises. Completely lonely from the necessary isolation.

God of Sleep–help us to find healthy ways to lay down and to get up we pray.

Help us to find ways to cope with the heightened anxiety and/or depression of the today.

Ease my tension, soothe my headaches and heartaches and stomaches.

Give us healthy outlets, we pray.

Amen.

More Pandemic Prayers & Resources

Holy Week: Praying Our way Through!

Palm Sunday was the premature victory parade.

People in the streets, gathering because they thought the battle was over.

In the great tradition of Greek & Roman celebrations, they came and laid cloaks and palms at the victor’s feet to soften his path.

But Jesus, knew the hardest things would be next–

The Sedar Meal where Jesus spends his last night on earth with his beloved.

Then he tries to tell the disciples that he is–that they all are–betrayed, but no one believes him, and Judas denies his complicity

I wonder if this is the moment that Jesus decides he’s going to wash his disciples feet. Lavishing love upon them one last time, giving them another more personal memory to be layered upon the parade where I’m sure the disciples walked on the dusty ground near Jesus.

The long journey to Jerusalem, the cries of victory and the soothing touch of the Lord Jesus, the bellies full of good food all of the makings of the end of a good day.

Palm Sunday was the premature victory parade; people gathered in the streets thinking that there was going a battle that needed to be won. Unaware that it would instead be about healing.

I think about this as Holy Week seems creeps into today. In the midst of a pandemic I feel the need to celebrate the good, the anguish of seeing people die, the waiting, waiting, waiting of Holy Saturday.

I don’t want any premature victories, let me tell you that straight off. And I don’t want us to be going to war. And I already tire of the heightened violence, the excuse for evil racist attacks, the righteous violence of those who knock over people who are spitting on food or violating the social distancing rule–Peter’s anger in the garden seems way more present these days.

I want reconciliation, I want healing. I want us to all act like Easter is coming. Not according to any human calendar or calculation, but because Shalom is the ultimate goal. I want to work towards the healing of the world, because it’s the right thing to do, not because I need this victory or that one.

Palm Sunday was fine, but I’ll wait for Easter as long as this Holy Saturday takes.

More Prayers and Resources about the Pandemic Here

Everything Counts/Counting the stars

Count the stars God tells Abram and Sarai, or, if you prefer, count the grains of sand.

Lord sometimes I feel like my efforts are no more than grains of sand in an ocean of hurting, lonely and sick people.

And time is dripping through the egg timer, one solitary granular at the time.

Count the sand, how can I count the sand, when I am but one grain?

How can I calculate the stars when I am but one entity of stardust in a vast, vast universe?

God who knows the count of every hair on my head. Creator of all beings who walk or fly or swim or crawl; surely you know I cannot count that high.

How then can I count my efforts? In the moment of crises am I doing enough? Am I staying away enough (6ft and staying at home as much as possible)? Am I being in contact enough (phone calls and video conferences and snail mail)?

Am I opening up enough (how can I help), am I keeping my family safe enough (let’s not do that)?

Am I taking care of myself enough (walks and family and friends and reading)?

The box of food I’ve collected, is that enough to count? The one package of toilet paper I found, does that work? The one small family I was able to bus back home–they were only two people–is that enough?

Count the stars.

Count the sand.

God reassures Abram & Sarai that they are connected to the world, that they are part of a greater universe, that they are part of the whole of human family and because they are of one humanity

their grain of time

their glow of starlight

is enough.

Remind me of that too I pray.

Amen

Image

More Pandemic Prayers and Resources

As the Rain Falls

The rain is falling today.

It’s indiscriminate. The rain doesn’t care who it falls on.

If you go out in the rain you will get wet.

It falls on the powerful and the meek.

It falls on the just and unjust

Yesterday the sun was shining

It didn’t care; the sun doesn’t care who it touches

If you went into the sun, you received it’s rays filled with vitamin D

It shone on those who were happy and those who mourned

It shone on those with COVID19 and those without alike.

Sometimes I feel caught up in my shoulds….

What should I be doing? How should I be feeling? Who should I be, now in the middle of this world crises.

God reminds me, God is my God, and the God of those who are angry, and the God of those who are terrified, or alone.

God is still my God when I feel those things. The sun still shines on me and the rain still makes me wet.

And if I’m just scraping to make ends meet: physically, monetarily, intellectually or emotionally. God is still my God then too.

You can’t be too anything for God: too good or too bad, too straight or too queer, too rich or too poor, too sad or too happy.

God promises, no matter what, God will be our God.

And I’m glad, in this time when I can’t touch many people–I can feel the drops of rain on my tongue and the warmth of the sun between my shoulders.

Remind me whoever I feel too much, or too little God that these are not your limits. Allow me to take comfort in the sun and the rain I pray. Amen.

Other Prayers and Resources for the Pandemic

Nothing will ever be the same again: Temples & Resurrection

Jesus promises that nothing will ever be the same again.

But no one understands: Neither rabbis nor the government, neither his family nor the disciples.

But that is the word of Jesus: nothings will ever be the same again.

And then he tears down the temple: time shatters as a side effect.

The sky goes dark, the minutes become slippery and the future melts into the past.

Jesus promises that nothing will ever be the same again

And Lazarus knows it when he is resurrected from the dead, so does Jairus’ daughter.

Because after Resurrection, not one stone will remain upon another.

After Resurrection, everything changes in the world and the entire world is changed.

They are not the same people, and their relationships will change.

What is an apocalypse? It is the uncovering of what is real, and what is rote.

Why is it an apocalypse? Because it’s about time we wake up and pay attention.

As things crumble away, money becomes meaningless and hugs become everything.

Power desinigrates, but conversations become lifesaving.

Jesus promises that nothing will ever be the same again.

And we pray for that, when we pray thy kingdom come, thy will be done.

(As things change, as every single thing we do changes from work, to family, too finances. As this moment becomes a part of the social conscious memory, let us acknowledge that maybe it’s good that nothing will ever be the same again.

Maybe priorities will change, maybe relationships will strengthen, maybe the things that are breaking were already on the brink and it’s time to change the way we do those things: elder care, disabled care, work/life balance, the value of essential work, the need for healing, the way my health is wrapped up in your health, the way my money is economy up in your economy, the way my shalom is wrapped up in your shalom.)

We can taste the kingdom on our tongues, not because Jesus is coming tomorrow, but because has already been here.

And we, living in the grace of 2,000 plus years post Jesus, are just now realizing that nothing truly will ever be the same again. But the temple is being rebuilt, this too Jesus promises.

It won’t be the same temple, but the temple will be rebuilt.

Thanks be to God, for the good news.

More Prayer Resources