Tag: trauma

A Prayer for the Traumatized Savior

Here’s a Prayer to the traumatized Savior
Who no one,
Not one disciple
understood

Here’s a prayer to the mysterious Jesus
Who was beyond ken
who told stories and parables
and riddles
and answered questions with questions
and ministered to the hurt behind the questions
and only maybe, maybe answered 5 or 6

Because Jesus knew that ministry is not about answers
But walking with people in their hurt
and listening to their stories
and sitting by the well
waiting

Here’s a Prayer for the Jesus who saw people
really saw them, and called them, each
by their chosen name, and did not care
if it was different than their birth name, what miracle

This is a prayer for Jesus who felt more at home
with Lazarus Mary and Martha (or maybe there was just Mary
and we conflated one woman into two?) and believed in found families
and who had to retreat there when the crowds became overwhelming.

A prayer for the Savior who had to nap and escape to the middle of lakes
and the tops of mountains.
A prayer for the Savior who cursed fig trees and flipped tables
and yelled at the hypocrites and screamed SHUT UP, when the waves got too scary.
Here’s a prayer for Jesus, survivor of trauma, even before
Even before they went on that hill to the cross
And called misfits and the marginal to do the work with them:
tax collectors, widows, outcasts and those with foot in mouth syndrome

Here’s a Prayer to Jesus–who said, look for me in the most unlikely places
the immigrant, look for me on the edges of society.
Do not worry about me getting you,
Look for me among the lost sheep, the prodigal
the poor, the hungry
look for me among the imprisoned
those who speak gibberish
the sick
those without power
those without citizenship
the queer ones
the naked
the children
the lonely

This is a prayer for Jesus–who does not care about branding
or power, or how many people are Christian,
how many Christians we produce
Christianity is not a product

Here’s a prayer for Jesus,
Who is sitting with all of us
after a worldwide pandemic
from which we all hold grief and trauma
and from which, I still haven’t shaped the right prayer
So I’m sitting with Jesus–who knows what trauma is
and is making the prayer with me.

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

If you care to support me, please do so at my GoFundMe for my Doctorate in Creative Writing as a Public Theologian at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary Here (and many thanks to all those have supported my first 2 and half years I could not have done it without you!)

A Different kind of Rest

God, I wonder what it was like,

when David was king and pondered an enforced rest.

David, who had trauma in his family and then perpetuated trauma on his friend, and raped a woman.

David, who dealt with the physical pain of a sexually transmitted disease that roiled him for years.

God, how stretched was David, when he prayed for a rest that would not let him go.

When David harkened back to simpler times, and longed, not even to be a shepherd again, but to instead be the sheep.

David, reimagines rest as something to be protected, with a staff and a rod.

David sees true rest as being able to let go of his enemies, and eat and drink without having to worry about being attacked.

David, who was so privileged and powerful needed rest.

How much more do we need rest after the pandemic.

How much more do our Black and Brown siblings need the space to rest, and the time to reinvent what rest and rejuvenation looks like?

How much more do our queer siblings, need sabbath?

How much more do our beloved trans* individuals need sanctuary?

Hustling is not going to cut it anymore. You can’t out hustle a pandemic or trauma or racism or bigotry.

God, drive those who need to, down to the cool waters.

Chase them down with goodness and mercy.

And remind us, that Sabbath, like blessings, is not pie. There is enough to go around. We need to create space for rest with one another.

Help us to create a culture of Sabbath, I pray.

Amen.

Again I have to give theological credit to @TheNapMinistry and Nap Bishop Tricia Hersey for their continually revolutionary take on rest. https://linktr.ee/thenapministry

Please share/adapt/use with Theological Credit to “The Nap Ministry” writing credit to Pastor Katy Stenta

I am so angry

I am so angry, she said, and I admit I was surprised to hear the echo of her words in my heart God.

Of course, I know I’m angry God, we all are. Haven’t I been giving permission for people to scream psalms and then wrote out my own about the catastrophe that lead up to and was 2020? But I was still surprised…because I am SO angry, God.

I’m angry God, with little places to process it, and very small chances to even be grumpy (though I am, of course grumpier like most people).

I’m angry that people keep making poor decisions, I’m angry that I don’t know how long I have to stay in survival mode.

I’m angry that my child who has autism works so hard to remain masked when so many capable adults believe rumors and lies and continue to ignore the need to do what is needed to stay safe.

I am angry that we are so, so lonely, while others go out and party.

I’m angry that my family’s mental health is precarious at best, and I’m angry that the priorities of the government and individuals seem to be power and money over safety, and self-righteousness over loving our neighbor.

And I’m angry that my family cannot perfectly keep others safe because there are too many factors and not enough cooperation for us to be able to tell when and how all of this will end.

I am angry that more and more people are getting sick or dying, and all the socioeconomic things–Too many to name even….

I want to be angry God, because it’s a true reaction to what is going on.

Is this how Jesus felt when Samaria refused to welcome him when he finally decided to journey to Jerusalem? Did he have to get over it to tell the parable of the Good Samaritan?

Or did you tell the story to yourself Jesus? Did you tell it to remind yourself not to always be angry?

God, there is nowhere to put this anger. If I put it on mine enemies, and wish them harm or illness, I–in truth–only hurt myself.

And there’s no real way to process it, yet.

Except sometimes I watch a show or I read a book and I cry.

God help us, help me, with this trauma. This mix of delayed mourning, longstanding loneliness and more anger than I realized.

Help us say the prayers, scream the screams, write the psalms and to create the rituals we need in this time of trauma. Help us to create small oases of sanctuaries to process. the hardship we are going through.

I’m tired of being angry God. Please help me in whatever way you can.

Send your Holy Spirit to comfort and renew me, I pray.

Amen.

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

For more Pandemic Prayers here